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Bit by bit, the table filled with chattering people. Brian came back with the kids, helping them settle at the table and filling their bowls with cornflakes, lots of milk and a little sugar.
He had just straightened when a man walked onto the patio behind him, holding a finger to his lips. Everybody stared. He was tall, even taller than Brian. He had the physique of a body-builder, with wide shoulders, muscular arms and a very trim waist. His hair was black with bluish highlights, just touching his shoulders, and he had the darkest eyes Justin had ever seen. He wore white jeans and a red silk shirt, and he was gorgeous.
Quickly, he put his hands over Brian’s eyes, just before everybody fell silent.
“Shane,” Brian said, no question in his voice. Yet, there was a quality to his voice that sent a bolt of lightning right through Justin’s heart.
Brian turned, his smile open and delighted, and threw his arms around Shane’s neck. Justin couldn’t remember Brian ever smiling like that, his guard down completely. Brian wasn’t ordinarily this impulsive. And the expression in his eyes… hurt. What was going on? Brian always hid his emotions. Who was this man whose simple appearance made Brian willingly vulnerable?
Shane put his arms around Brian’s waist and lifted him up, seemingly without effort. Justin knew that as slender as Brian was, it wasn’t easy to lift him. He had tried, and he wasn’t weak.
Brian laughed softly and closed his eyes, and their lips met in a sweet, lasting kiss.
“Now I feel better,” Shane said when he finally released Brian and took half a step back, still holding Brian’s hand. “Christ, you’re beautiful. You look hot.”
Damn, yes. Brian looked fantastic in his black short-sleeved shirt and matching trousers. The color set off his tan, and the silver embroidery on the collar and button-band seemed to reflect in his eyes. The black-and-silver belt was definitely Gucci.
“I know,” Brian said, without false modesty.
“He knows,” Ted said, sounding annoyed.
“Of course he knows,” Shane grinned. “That’s what mirrors are for. I know you know, Bri. I wanted to tell you that I noticed.”
Brian smiled. “You’re not bad. I like red on you.”
“Which is why I’m wearing it,” Shane said.
“You said you’d not make it,” Brian commented, head to one side.
“I woke up with this insatiable urge to gaze into your eyes. So I jumped in the car, and here I am.”
Brian raised an eyebrow and tipped his head back, looking at Shane from under his lashes. “Gaze away.”
Shane smiled and pulled Brian close again. They looked into each other’s eyes for a long moment, and Justin bit his lip. For everybody else, locking eyes with Brian was a contest, or an attempt to see what his words weren’t saying. Or else, you stared at him in disbelief.
His hands on Brian’s waist, Shane just simply gazed. Brian stood quietly in the gentle hold, his hands on Shane’s shoulders, returning the look steadily. Their eyes still locked, they moved forward until their foreheads touched. Shane brushed a tender kiss across Brian’s lips, which Brian seemed to receive like a gift.
“Jeez, Brian, you had us fooled. For a moment there, we all thought you were with Judson.”
Justin almost jumped as Debbie’s penetrating voice broke the spell. Fuck her. That had been one beautiful sight.
“Hello, gorgeous,” Judson said, getting up to hug the other man. “Shane gets to share. And before anybody gets any ideas, he’s the only one.”
“Shane Shea, meet the gang,” Brian said, unruffled.
“Hi, gang,” Shane grinned, showing two rows of perfect white teeth. “Those of you who don’t know me will get to know me.”
“Lindsay, Michael, you remember Shane?” Brian asked.
Michael shook his head resentfully. “No, I sure don’t.”
“High School athletics team,” Shane said. “Brian and I played football, basketball and baseball together. We were on the swim-team. And Brian did cross-country running. You weren’t into sports, were you.”
Michael frowned. “No. Neither was Brian.”
Shane shot Brian an amused look. “Strange. Didn’t you get a scholarship? I seem to remember you were rather good.”
“He wasn’t,” Michael insisted. “I should know, we’ve been best friends since High School.”
“Well, I know you. We were all jealous. You got to hang out with Brian Kinney. Did you ever score?”
Michael snorted. “No. I didn’t score. I didn’t want to.”
There was a strange light in Brian’s eyes. Pity?
Shane’s grin widened. “You didn’t want to? What are you, straight?”
Lindsay cut in, a little too quickly. “I remember you, Shane. From art classes. You couldn’t draw a straight line.”
“Nothing about me has ever been straight.” Shane sighed dramatically. “How awful, to be remembered for your shortcomings.”
“Short come,” Brian said. “Is that a new feature?”
Shane smiled. “I assure you, you’re the first to find out about new features.”
Justin laughed. “What were you doing in art classes, if you were that bad?”
Shane looked at him, the smile gone. Justin felt distinctly uncomfortable under that suddenly stern look. “Brian took art classes.”
Lindsay laughed. “Oh yes, you took all his classes with him, didn’t you? Did you at least get yourself a degree?”
Shane grinned. “Brian wouldn’t have kept me around if he thought I had no brains. So, I worked my ass off just to keep up with him.”
“You got a degree in communications, then?”
“MBA in communications and business. BA in psychology, marketing, media and design. Somehow, I flunked art.”
Justin frowned. He knew Brian had an MBA in communications and business. Did he have a BA?
“Brian didn’t do those,” Michael said.
Lindsay shot him a surprised look. “Sure he did. Brian has an MBA in marketing, media and design. And he didn’t flunk art.”
Michael frowned at Brian. “You never told me.”
Brian shrugged. “Who gives a shit. It’s just pieces of printed paper.”
“That’s right,” Debbie laughed. “Doesn’t mean you’re any less of an asshole.”
Justin swallowed. All that talk about celebrating achievements. Had anybody ever celebrated Brian’s? Had his so-called family even known or cared? Or had he shared his successes only with the man who knew how hard it was to win them?
Shane slipped his arm around Brian’s waist, his dark eyes on Debbie. It was difficult to read his expression, but Justin felt sure it wasn’t friendly.
“Did you at least score?” Melanie asked. “Or did you exert your brain for no reason?”
Shane smiled. “Brian Kinney was the hottest guy on campus. Heck, he was the hottest guy on the planet. Still is.”
“The hottest gay guy, you mean,” Ted said waspishly.
“The hottest guy,” Shane said. “Gay, straight, or lesbo, they all wanted him. Some straight guys went gay over Brian, some lesbian ladies now bat for the straight team.”
Scoffing, Brian poured a generous amount of skimmed milk into a cup, then added coffee and handed it to Shane.
Weird. He’d fuck you and then say he didn’t remember your name. And for this guy, Brian Kinney remembered how to fix his coffee?
“So,” Melanie said, biting into her bagel, “did you score?”
“A gentleman doesn’t tell,” Shane smiled. “Keep guessing, lady.”
Somebody’s cell jingled.
“Yours,” Brian said to Shane.
Shane shrugged. “Right. Sorry.” He pulled the cell out of his jeans, said his name, listened for a moment and grimaced. “If you must.”
He snapped the cell shut and looked at Judson. “Damn. We didn’t get it. Apparently, some newcomer sent in his ideas an hour before the deadline was up.”
“Fuck that,” Judson said heatedly. “Do we get to see what we were up against, or do we have to wait for the air date?”
Shane sighed. “No, Katzman is sending the first one right over. To rub our noses in it, I expect.”
“You don’t seem upset,” Ted said to Brian.
Brian shrugged. “You win some, you lose some.”
“You don’t like to lose,” Justin commented.
Shane’s cell jingled again, and he sat down and snapped it open with a sigh. Judson got up again and leaned on his shoulder.
There was some electrifying music that went straight into your legs and made you want to dance.
“Gee,” Molly whispered. “I wish we could have a party right now.”
Justin smiled at her, “Yeah. Me, too.”
Judson and Shane frowned at what they saw on their small screen, while Brian filled the kids’ bowls with more cereal.
“Fuck, Bri. Take a look. This guy is a genius. You’ve got to try and hire him.”
Brian raised an eyebrow. “Who says it’s a guy?”
“You’re right; this must be a whole team. The idea is brilliant, and the concept – wow.”
“So,” Brian drawled. “How good are they?”
“Good. Very good. As good as you. If this had been done by a single person, I’d say they’re better than even you. And that’s saying something.”
Justin frowned. He knew Brian didn’t enjoy that kind of comment. He always wanted to be the best, at everything.
Ted laughed. “It’s nice to see that somebody can beat you. And at your own game, at that.”
Brian raised an eyebrow and took a sip of his coffee.
There was another cell-phone jingle, and Justin wondered irritably why people didn’t get some other ring-tone for the damn things so that you could tell whose phone was ringing.
Brian stood up and took a cell from a shelf Justin hadn’t even noticed before. “Kinnetik Corporation, Brian Kinney.”
He listened for a moment, then frowned. “That must be a mistake, Mr Vandevriend. There was no submission.”
He was silent for a while, and then said, “I see. If you’ll pardon the expression, that’s buying the cat in the bag, isn’t it?”
He listened to the reply, and finally shrugged, “It’s your call. Get your lawyers to draw up the contract. By the time it reaches me, I will have decided. Bye!”
Brian pressed a few buttons, snapped the phone shut and turned with a triumphant grin. “Reports of my downfall have been vastly exaggerated, Ted.”
“What did he want,” Ted asked.
“He wants what Katzman’s got.”
“And that would be what, exactly?” Judson asked.
Brian gestured at Shane’s cell. “The guy who came up with that.”
Another jingle indicated that Shane had received another file. Sighing, he flicked a button. “That’s the same commercial.”
“Wait,” Judson said. “With credits. Idea, Brian Kinney. Concept, Brian Kinney. Realization, Brian Kinney. Copy, Brian Kinney. Art and animation, Brian Kinney. Design, Brian Kinney. Music, Chinnichap.”
Shane stared at Brian with what looked like awe. “You’re the ultimate whiz kid.”
“What does it all mean,” Debbie said. “Why are you getting so excited about Brian getting a new client? Happens all the time, doesn’t it?”
Judson hugged Brian, “Congratulations. I hate you.”
Brian grinned and kissed him. “Likewise.”
Shane got up and pulled Brian close. “Wow.”
Ted looked put out. “The Katzman guy is the CEO for like, the biggest producer of fucking cat food in the country. Kinnetik isn’t even really in their league. The account is worth something like one-hundred eighty millions.”
“Fuck you, Ted,” Brian said heatedly, “Will you stop discussing my business?”
“So, who was he,” Emmett asked, pointing at Brian’s cell.
“They make the equivalent in dog food,” Ted said.
“Shut up, Ted,” Daphne said, shaking her head.
“Honestly,” Leda muttered.
Brian shrugged. “I knew I got myself an accountant, Daph. If I wanted loyalty, I’d get a dog.”
“Can I put this on the big screen,” Judson asked. “I want a better look.”
“Sure,” Brian said.
Leda put the last bite of bagel into her mouth and washed it down with some coffee. “I’m coming with.”
“And me,” Shane said.
Daphne got up, and so did Molly. “Do you mind us watching, Brian?”
Brian rolled his eyes. “It’ll be on nation-wide TV from Monday. You could wait.”
“Is that the cat ad?” Gus asked.
Brian nodded.
“Can I see it again?”
Brian sighed. “Bring your cornflakes, tyke.”
“Hold on,” Shane said. “You’ve seen it, Gus?”
“Sure,” Gus said coolly, “Daddy showed me.”
“Nice,” Judson said. “You didn’t even tell us there was a commercial.”
Brian shrugged. “I needed a neutral test-group.”
“What, you saying we’re not neutral?”
“You’re anything but,” Brian grinned.
Lindsay got up. “I want to see what your animation looks like these days. Come on, Justin.”
Something in Shane’s stance warned Justin. Judson looked watchful, too. “Do you mind, Brian,” he asked.
“No,” Brian said evenly. “Like I said, it’s going on air in two days.”
They all proceeded to the living room, where Shane transferred the commercial from his cell to the DVD recorder. Justin hadn’t even known you could do that. He really needed to take more of an interest in technological developments.
Judson pressed a button on the remote control, and the screen came to life.
Justin grinned. A white cat, curled up on a bulging blue cushion. It stretched, yawned, washed a paw, then moved over to its dish and sniffed it delicately. It screwed up its adorable pink nose, jumped onto the window sill and poured itself into the garden. A new perspective showed a luxurious garden surrounding a lavish villa, which the cat sauntered away from. It walked into a run-down house where a gnarled hand put down a chipped plate and filled it with cat food, clearly showing the brand. The cat meowed and ate, purring all the while, then curled up on an old rug. ‘Home is where they feed you… the food you want.’
This was one hell of a commercial. He’d never seen anything like it. The whole set of animations consisted only of a few lines and some well-placed colors, but somehow, Brian had managed to say more with a few lines than Picasso said in twenty paintings. The cat was just a pink nose, large green eyes and a hint of ears and whiskers, a blur of legs and an elegantly curved back and tell-tale tail. And yet, the bloody cat was sexy, and damn cute. Brian had combined his art with the real images of tin and food. The cat food looked delicious, and the can looked like it should be on display in a museum, not hidden away in the pantry.
“I want a cat,” Leda sighed.
“Why,” Judson said. “I thought you didn’t like cats.”
“I don’t. I want to have somebody I can feed that stuff to.”
“Eat it yourself,” Justin grinned. “It looks good enough for that.”
“It does,” Lindsay agreed. “I was actually wondering what it tastes like.”
Justin shot Brian a look, who had his head back, lower lip between his teeth and his eyes closed. He felt himself grow hard. Brian looked like he was having an orgasm.
Shane looked at Brian as though he knew what Brian was thinking, and shared a wide smile with Judson, who shook his head indulgently.
“I want to eat the food instead of my cornflakes,” Gus said, and Lindsay ruffled his hair.
Brian opened his eyes and smiled widely. “Thanks, guys. You said just what the ad-man wanted to hear.”
Lindsay took the remote off Judson and reversed to the last frame. “You have condensed your lines even more. Remember that idea in art class, to draw a cat in forty lines or less, Shane?”
“I remember. Everybody went nuts because Brian only needed twenty-five lines. How many have you used here?”
“I’m down to twelve.”
“Twelve!” Lindsay exclaimed. “Talk about minimalist!”
“Phew,” Shane breathed. “How many for the villa?”
“Ten. Fourteen for the garden.”
Justin remembered the doodles. Sometimes, when Brian was working, he drew things on a pad while thinking. Houses, cars, animals. Always in very few lines. He had thought that Brian was too impatient to do more, but apparently, Brian simply didn’t need more.
“You did that straight in the computer, didn’t you,” Shane asked.
Brian nodded.
“Damn. All you need for that commercial is a computer and an Internet connection?”
“I don’t need an Internet connection,” Brian said. “All I need is a paint program and a digital camera.”
“So,” Shane said slowly. “The newcomer Superior is you and your paint program.”
“Don’t forget Chinnichap. They’re English, and they’ve written about a thousand jingles. Brilliant jingles.”
“Let me get this straight,” Judson said. “Katzman hired you. Not Kinnetik.”
Brian nodded.
“And now Vandevriend wants you.”
Brian nodded again.
“Why are you bypassing Kinnetik?” Daphne asked.
Brian sighed. “Because Kinnetik can’t do the commercial without me, but I can do the commercial without Kinnetik.”
Daphne nodded. “That makes sense.”
It didn’t make any sense where Justin was concerned, and Lindsay didn’t seem to understand what they were saying, either.
“So,” Shane said. “You’ve got the contract for what, a year? And the same for Vandevriend?”
Brian smiled softly. “Positive thinking. I signed on for a decade with Katzman, and it looks like that’s what Vandevriend wants, too.”
Shane and Judson both looked as though Brian had just given them the millions he was going to make, and they couldn’t believe it.
Shane drew Brian into his arms, and Justin could see his muscles tighten. “I… I just love you so much, Brian Kinney.”
Brian sighed, and hid his face in Shane’s neck, murmuring something Justin couldn’t understand.
Judson smiled. “When did you submit to Vandevriend, anyway?”
Brian gently disentangled himself from Shane’s hold. “I didn’t.”
“You didn’t.” Judson echoed. “What was he buying, then?”
“Something I have yet to create,” Brian said lightly, but his grin was wicked.
“Oh!” Judson exclaimed. “He’s literally buying the cat in the bag?”
“Yes.”
Brian’s calm voice could have fooled you, and Justin remembered just how often it had fooled him in the past. But he hadn’t seen Brian in months, only thought about him, and time and distance had helped him to see more clearly. Brian was calm and off-hand about the things he cared about, and the deeper he cared, the more detached he seemed.
Justin hadn’t paid much attention to things going on at Vangard, to his shame. But he knew that no client would buy a campaign he hadn’t seen. It just wasn’t done. And a ten-year contract was practically unheard of. Clients signed on for the duration of a campaign, or maybe a year. Two at best.
Unless, apparently, they were dealing with Brian Kinney.
“Congratulations,” he said softly, wondering briefly how often he had missed an opportunity to congratulate Brian.
“Thanks,” Brian said. “Keep that in this room, please?”
Everybody nodded.
Brian got up. “Let’s go see whether they’ve left us any coffee, shall we? Bring that bowl back out with you please, Gus.”
Judson turned off the screen and they wandered back onto the patio.
Carl and Tucker were still at the table, but everybody else was gone.
“Is there any coffee left, guys,” Judson asked.
“Yes,” Tucker said, “I just made some.”
Brian smiled at him. “You’d make somebody a fine wife, Tuck.”
“Thanks, but you turned me down,” Tucker grinned. “So I ended up marrying a girl.”
“And what a girl she is,” Brian said.
“I’m happy,” Tucker replied.
“I can see that,” Brian grinned, pouring coffee for Shane and himself.
Judson had to pour his own, Justin noticed. He poured coffee for Daphne, Molly and himself, then offered some to Lindsay, who shook her head.
Leda held out her cup. “That’s some ad,” she said. “You’re still practicing art, then?”
Brian shrugged, giving Gus a bagel. “As in everything else, only practice makes perfect.”
“When do you find the time?” Debbie asked, returning to the table and picking up a Danish.
“I make time,” Brian said.
Shane had peeled a peach and sliced it, holding a piece to Brian’s lips. Brian shot him a look out of the corner of his eye, which looked irritated to Justin, but opened his lips and took the fruit. He chewed for a while, then swallowed and picked up his cup. He held it at mouth level, obviously to discourage Shane from plying him with more food. Justin tried to remember whether Brian had had breakfast, but didn’t recall seeing him eat.
Gus kept his eyes on Brian. “You said you’d eat later, Daddy. It’s later now.”
“I’m not hungry, Gus,” Brian said calmly.
The boy frowned, studying Brian with a serious expression. “You don’t eat a lot, do you, Daddy?”
“I eat,” Brian said.
Shane winked at Gus. “We’re onto you, Brian. You’re not eating enough.”
“Drop it.”
“Come on, make me feel better. Have some fruit,” Shane coaxed.
“Make me feel better and eat it yourself,” Brian said, his tone a little sharper this time.
“You’re almost as thin as Justin, you know,” Debbie said, sitting down next to Carl. “And you’re taller. You really ought to eat more.”
Justin knew that now their battle was lost, even before Brian opened his mouth.
“It’s none of your fucking business, guys,” Brian said, put his cup down and left swiftly.
Shane and Judson exchanged a look that was clearly worried, and Daphne looked thoughtful.
“He’s got quite the temper these days, hasn’t he,” Debbie said cheerfully.
Gus shot her a dark look and slipped from the table.
“Where are you going, Gus,” Lindsay asked.
“Talk to my daddy.”
“He’ll rip your head off, kiddo,” Debbie warned, grinning.
“He won’t,” Gus said confidently. “I can talk to my daddy anytime.”
From the time he had been here with Brian, Justin remembered a secluded spot somewhere beyond the children’s playground, and wondered whether it was still there. To his delight, he found that it was.
He had mentioned to Brian that this would be an ideal place to sit and sketch, and Brian had promised him seats and a table. Brian had kept his word. There were two comfortable garden chairs, and two small tables, one with the normal flat surface, one that you could angle. Brilliant.
Happily, Justin took out his sketch-book and pencils and got to work. First, that image from yesterday, Judson kissing Brian, and Gus looking at them with that cute expression.
The image seemed to flow onto the page, without much help from him. Such a relief that his gimp hand was almost back to normal, with only the occasional twitch or cramp and loss of sensation.
Now, Brian and Gus, Brian’s face tender, the kid’s expression one of adoration.
Next, and best, Brian, kneeling on the ground.
He had to do that one from imagination, trying to visualize what Ken and Dave had seen from their spot in the pool yesterday. He worked quickly, trying to capture the heat of the moment. The viewer looked up into the drawing. Brian’s legs spread wide, showing off his package, framed by his hands resting on his thighs. His torso, strong and sculpted; and all his clothes like cling-film, accentuating rather than hiding. His face, glistening with water, shining with amusement and that sexy challenge, his hair spiked as it had been in bed earlier this morning.
Justin leaned back.
Wow.
That was one hot drawing, even if he did say so himself.
“Name your price,” Shane said softly. “I want that.”
Justin turned, surprised. He hadn’t even known Shane was there until he spoke. “It’s not for sale. How long have you been standing there for?”
Shane shrugged. “A while. I didn’t want to disturb you. You seemed rather far gone into that creative zone.” He settled into the free chair and motioned at the sketch-book. “Can I look?”
Justin hesitated. Then again, art needed to be seen to live. He handed the book over.
Shane took his time, studying each drawing carefully. “These are nothing like Rage.”
“Rage was a comic,” Justin said. “That’s different.”
“It’s still all about Brian. I love this one of him in his leathers. But the kneeling one is my favorite. Do you do copies?”
Justin shook his head. “No. At best, I do variations on a theme. But copies always feel stale to me.”
“I’ll give you a blank check for the one where he’s kneeling. That expression is priceless.”
“The answer’s still no. I did that for myself.”
Shane sighed. “Right. I’m begging here. Will you run me a Xerox?”
“You do seem desperate,” Justin grinned. “The Xerox is yours. I imagine Brian’s got a Xerox in the house?”
“He does. All this place lacks is a fucking landing strip for the space shuttle.”
“Mh-mm,” Justin hummed noncommittally.
“And it still wasn’t good enough for you.”
Justin sighed. “Not that it’s any of your business, but it wasn’t about this place. It was about Brian and I.”
“I made it my business,” Shane said sharply. “Running away is one thing, but you could have stayed away. What did you have to come back for?”
Justin got up and collected his stuff. “I’ll get you your Xerox.”
“What about my answer?”
Justin had turned to leave, but now looked back over his shoulder. “You can’t have the drawing, and you don’t get an answer.”
“Fuck you,” Shane said, but Justin pretended not to have heard.
Fuck the asshole, anyway. For the first time in months, he had enjoyed sketching, without having to worry about a single thing. Who was this Shane-guy anyway, and why was everybody so protective of Brian?
He stepped into the cool hallway, enjoying the dimness after the bright light outside. He stood for a moment, collecting his thoughts and concentrating on breathing calmly. He wasn’t sure he liked Shane.
“You okay?” Brian asked, and when Justin looked at him, he just caught a fleeting feeling before Brian schooled his features to neutral.
Justin shrugged. “Yeah. Just a bit hot.”
“Hot under the collar?”
“And that,” Justin admitted. “How’d you know?”
Brian shrugged. “I know you.”
“I guess you do,” Justin sighed. “Shane says you got a Xerox?”
“In the office,” Brian said, leading the way. He pulled a key from the pocket of his trousers and unlocked the door. “I don’t want the kids to get in here. Gus likes to tinker.”
Justin slipped his bag from his shoulder to a chair and pulled out his sketch-book.
“You know how to use the machine?”
“Sure,” Justin nodded.
“I’ll leave you to it, then.” Brian handed him the key. “Remember to lock up.”
“Thanks,” Justin said, watching Brian leave. He was rather relieved Brian wasn’t going to look over his shoulder. Some of the drawings might be difficult to explain.
“I’m over here,” Shane said, watching Brian with a touch of exasperation. Brian approached and dropped into the second chair with a frown.
“What the fuck is he doing here?”
“What is who doing where,” Brian shot back.
“Come off it. I’m not playing games, and well you know it. That little piece of blond shit.”
Brian closed his eyes and swallowed, and Shane felt like screaming. They were back to square one, in all of a day. Fuck Justin fucking Taylor.
“You expected me to tell his mother she couldn’t bring him?”
“Yes. Jennifer would have cheered you on and said good for you. I know that Dumb Debbie was the one who brought him.”
“Whatever,” Brian said wearily. “What’s it to you.”
“What it is to me is that he’s hurting you, Brian. Which he has done basically from day one if you had the fucking guts to admit it.”
Brian glared at him. “Leave it, Shane.”
“I’ll leave it. I’ll leave it until I get a phone-call can I come and pick up the pieces.”
“Judson called you.”
“Fuck, yes. He’s scared shitless, Brian, we all are.”
“I can look after myself.”
“So why don’t you? Start by kicking the boy toy out.”
“Shane…”
“Christ, Brian. You can’t afford him right now. You need to concentrate on yourself.”
“Will you all fucking get off my back?” Brian jumped up so quickly the chair fell over. “I’m fucking eating enough. I’m fucking taking my fucking vitamins. I’m fucking working out. I’m getting enough fucking rest. I’m fucking doing everything the fucking doctor told me to fucking do. So fucking well back off, I can fucking handle it!”
Shane jumped up, too. He wasn’t yelling though. “I see you handling it, Brian. I see the same thing I saw when he ran away with Paganini Junior. I see pain, and confusion, and disbelief. And I see the same fucking downhill slide you took then.”
Brian grabbed the table and flung it to the ground with such force that the wood splintered. “Thank you, Shane fucking Freud. I needed to hear that.”
“Yes, you did,” Shane said icily. “Somebody’s got to tell you the truth, and I’m the only one who ever had the guts to do it.”
Brian stood still, his mouth working, swallowing silently, his eyes squeezed shut.
Gently, Shane pulled him into a close embrace, feeling him shake under his hands. “Brian. Think. Do you really want to take that road again?”
“What makes you think I’ve got a choice,” Brian said resignedly, disentangling himself and walking back to the house.
Thunderstruck, Shane stared after him.
“Now that went well,” Judson said.
“Damn. I thought this was supposed to be a secluded spot,” Shane replied.
Judson grinned. “It is. Until you start yelling. They probably heard Brian in the Burgh.”
“Cute.”
Judson righted Brian’s chair and sat down, pushing at the broken table with his foot. “Considerate even when pissed. The other one can be angled, you know.”
“I know. Young Rembrandt was using it earlier.”
“It’s because of him the stupid thing is here in the first place.”
Shane sighed. “Reckon we can buy him off?”
Judson shook his head. “It’s not about money, you know that. Never has been.”
“So why can’t they get it right?”
“I’m an ad-man, not a shrink. I have no idea.”
“You have an idea. You don’t want to share, though.”
“True. I already look the fool.”
Shane sighed again. “Lovers always look like fools. Can you tell me why the great Greek tragedy ‘Brian loves Justin doesn’t love Brian’ has to be played out in front of an audience without so much as a rehearsal?”
“Justin loves Brian,” Judson said. “Make no mistake on that count. And it was Brian who brought in the audience.”
“Same difference,” Shane sighed. “How much weight has he lost? Felt like at least four pounds earlier.”
“That why you picked him up?”
“No. I picked him up because I always do. I just noticed that he feels… lighter.”
“You were going to say fragile or some such shit.”
“Yes. But as this spot is not as secluded as I thought, I’m a little worried it might get back to him. He can still take me out.”
“He can,” Judson said. “He took out the karate trainer last week. The idiot gives him shit about the weight-loss, they take it to the mat and next thing I know Jason is out for the count.”
“Huh. Trust Bri. So how much?”
“Five and a half pounds.”
“Holy shit. That’s way too much. What does Jim have to say?”
“Added more carbs and fat to his diet.”
“Doesn’t help if he doesn’t keep it down.”
“How’d you know?”
Shane sighed. “The way he was chewing the damn peach. He did that way back when he was a kid. Chew like fifty times, and then pretend you’re just swallowing spit.”
“He had stomach trouble when he was a kid?” Judson hadn’t known that.
Shane snorted. “Yeah. Regularly. On the weekends. When Jack came home drunk on pay-day and took his belt to him. Never hit him where people might see. Always went for his stomach, chest and back.”
“Asshole.”
“He was. The worst. I’ve no idea how Brian survived growing up.”
“He says because of you, and Michael.”
“Michael the Oblivious, and Debbie the Clueless. Yeah. They were a great help.”
“Are you being sarcastic?”
“No. I actually meant it. It was easier for Brian to have somebody who didn’t get it. I got it, and he didn’t like it.”
“Too humiliating.”
“Yes. What happened last night?”
“Justin happened, what else. When I got back in, Leda and I found Bri in the shower.” Judson shuddered. He knew the picture would haunt him.
Shane groaned. “Let me guess. Fully dressed, curled up on the floor or down on his knees, with the shower going full pelt. Water temperature: icy.”
“Yes. Seen that before?”
“I think I’ve seen it all,” Shane sounded miserable. “When Rembrandt made off with Paganini, Brian didn’t answer the fucking phone, so I decided to come and see him. I got here the evening Brian came home to find that Justin had upped and left without so much as a ‘dear John’. I managed to get him out of the cold shower and into his warm bed, and in the morning he was staring at me like I was a ghost. He hadn’t even known I was there.”
Judson shook his head. “He’s the only person I know can have a nervous breakdown in a crowded room and nobody even notices.”
“If they gave themselves permission to notice, they’d have to acknowledge Brian is human. And you have to afford a human being a minimum of respect, and some kindness. As long as they continue to think of Brian as a god, they can go to him when in trouble, and still blaspheme when they think they don’t need him.”
“Ouch.”
Shane shrugged. “I’ve watched Brian perform for years. He makes one hell of a god.”
“Really.”
“Sure. Every devout believer is secretly certain his god doesn’t really give a shit. Brian says he doesn’t care about anybody but himself. Yet, the believer is also certain his god delivers when necessary. Brian intervenes when his so-called friends are in a fix. Like any other god, the only thanks he gets is a brief prayer. So, in my book, the Holy Church of Brian is the best church there is. This is the one god that never condemns his followers for doing their own thing.”
“That’s not being a god,” Judson said quietly. “That’s being a father.”
“Cottoned on, have you? You must have had a hell of a father.”
“I do,” Judson said fondly. “My father is gentle, strong and wise.”
“We’re lucky,” Shane said. “So is mine.”
“So,” Judson murmured. “Brian is the father he never had? Is that why he can’t turn his back on his idiot friends?”
“What kind of father kicks out their kids?”
Judson nodded. “And where do we fit in?”
Shane smiled. “You, me, Leda, Daphne, the three musketeers, Jennifer and Tucker - we’re adults. Men and women to talk to, not down to.”
“So we get to see Brian in his weakness, and they don’t? Michael has seen him go down.”
“No,” Shane shook his head. “What Michael thinks is weakness is really emotion. Which is why he’s allowed to see it. You don’t think Michael ever caught Brian taking a cold shower, do you?”
“He told me he stopped Brian from doing himself in on his thirtieth birthday.”
And Judson had been terrified when Brian turned thirty-five. And would be terrified again when Brian’s fortieth birthday came up.
“Stopped Brian? More like fortunately walked in at the last moment. Anyway, doesn’t that jerk ever keep his mouth shut? About anything?”
Judson shrugged. “He’s like his mother. They don’t know how to keep a secret.”
“I’m sure they keep their own,” Shane muttered derisively.
“Then again. Gods don’t have secrets.”
“What do you want me to do?”
“Damned if I know. I thought you did.”
Shane always knew what to do where Brian was concerned. Didn’t he?
“Ah well. I’ll play it by ear.”
“Can you keep him from drinking? We had seafood last night, so he stayed with the wine. Don’t know about tonight, though.”
“Who’s the caterer?”
“’Food for thought’,” Judson grinned.
“How ironic,” Shane remarked. “Get somebody to play us some music. Don’t do it yourself, Brian will know what we’re up to. Ask Daphne, or better still, Molly. Brian loves that girl.”
“Are you surprised?”
“No, no, it’s not because she’s Rembrandt’s little sister. She’s cute and clever, and a charmer. Quite his type.”
“If he were into girls.”
“I told you before, Brian’s into people. I’d watch it, if I were you.”
“Huh,” Judson muttered. “Now you’ve given me food for thought.”
“Disco, if you can. Or middle of the road. Stay away from the Babylon thumpa-thumpa.”
“Brian likes thumpa.”
“Yeah, but secretly, he prefers disco to dance to. Also, you can keep going longer. See whether you can put water into easier reach than his whisky.”
“I’m beginning to feel like somebody’s mother.”
“Well, you’re sure as hell nothing like Brian’s mother. She downs her first shot before she makes it into the bathroom in the morning.”
“I’ve had the pleasure,” Judson said wryly. “Wanna know what she said?”
“Let me guess. How about ‘you’re going to hell’.”
“Indeed. She took Brian’s check before she repeated it to him, though.”
Shane shrugged. “When I was fifteen, I pushed her down the stairs. Unfortunately, she only broke her arm. I’d been going for her neck.”
“Why, did she tell you that you were going to hell?”
“No. I didn’t care what she said to me. She hurt Brian.”
“Hurt Brian? How?”
“You sure you want to know?”
Judson nodded, swallowing, dread collecting in his stomach like a weight.
“She burned him. Held his hand down on the stove. He couldn’t use his right hand for weeks. My dad took him to a doctor, who said he might not use the hand again. Father was livid, but somehow, Brian persuaded him not to take action.”
Judson swallowed the bile that rose in this throat. “Good lord. And he still provides for them?”
“Brian has an endless capacity for mercy. I wish somebody would show him the same consideration,” Shane sounded bitter.
“I need a drink,” Judson said. “Two drinks.”
“Don’t you start,” Shane said. “I’m relying on you and Leda to stay sober with me.”
“You got it,” Judson said wearily. “We should still head back. He already knows we’re talking about him.”
“I know he knows,” Shane said. “And we’re going to talk some more. Right now, I think I need to go give him a hug.”
“Careful there. You might just lose an arm.”
“I’ll take that risk,” Shane smiled. “I’ve always risked everything for Brian.”
They slowly walked back to the house. Judson picked up the broken table on the way.
Behind them, Justin sank to the ground with a heavy sigh. His stomach was churning, and his mind was reeling.
He had felt sorry for himself, and thought he’d had a bad childhood, because his father had gone ballistic when he found out about his homosexuality. Brian’s parents hadn’t needed an excuse, apparently. They mistreated Brian because they could. Was that why Brian pretended not to care about people? Because too many people had made it clear they didn’t care about him?
Justin moaned. He had made it clear he didn’t care. And he hadn’t, not at the time. Like a spoiled brat, he had left just because Brian wouldn’t give him what he wanted. Left Brian for Ethan. Ethan, who offered romance, music, and sweet words. Words that lied, music that wounded, romance that cheated. Had he really just packed his stuff and left, without even telling Brian where he was going?
Brian had tried to kill himself on his birthday? Before or after that stunt they had pulled with the funeral parlor? Justin groaned. What kind of sick joke had that been, anyway? Who had had the idea? Why had he thought it was funny? Why had he always cracked jokes about Brian’s age, and hanging out with teenagers?
Justin cringed. He had been an inconsiderate, cold-hearted, unfeeling bastard. He had seen the hurt in Brian’s eyes, but he hadn’t cared, because Brian’s mouth was smiling.
What had he done when he broke up with Ethan and realized he wanted Brian back? Followed Daphne’s advice. Behaved like a girl. Great. Instead of doing what a man might have done, and gone and talked it over with Brian.
No, Justin Taylor had to do it his way. Insinuating himself back into Brian’s life and into Brian’s workplace, and ultimately landing Brian in deep shit because of him.
And all those big words, about knowing what Brian wanted from him, and knowing what he could expect from Brian? Words. Just words. And still, Brian had smiled.
Now Brian was ill. Losing weight. Not keeping his food down. Was in doctor’s care. AIDS, was all Justin could think. And still, Brian was smiling.
Justin tried to calm his breathing, this time to no avail. He curled up into a fetal position, letting his misery and regret wash over him. Time lost its meaning as he finally let himself feel the guilt and self-loathing that had been lurking in the corners of his heart and mind ever since he had closed the door of the loft for the last time.
“Justin!”
Brian’s voice pulled him out of his own version of hell.
“Justin! What’s wrong?”
Hands, gentle, yet confident. A warm touch, a firm hold, tender lips in his hair.
“Justin. Talk to me. Justin!”
He heard the panic, knew it was rising and still didn’t have what it took to respond.
“Answer him, you little piece of shit,” Shane said angrily. “He’s just feeling sorry for himself, Brian. Leave him to it.”
Brian’s hold tightened. “You leave, Shane. Now.”
A moment of drawn-out silence, and Justin guessed it was a battle of wills, fought with eyes alone. Footsteps. So, Brian won. Again.
Weakly, Justin turned into the embrace, seeking warmth. Seeking forgiveness, without knowing how to ask for it, aware that he didn’t deserve it.
Brian sighed, shifted. Settled on the ground with him, holding him close. One strong arm under his shoulders, the other rubbing soothing circles on his back. Long fingers familiar in his hair. Warm breath on his cheek, and on his eyes.
Slowly, Justin relaxed. “I’m sorry.”
“Sorry is bullshit,” the answer was automatic, and expected. “Anyway, what are you saying sorry for? Having a nervous breakdown?”
Shyly, Justin moved to return the embrace. He felt Brian stiffen, then settling down again. “No. I’m saying sorry I never asked what you wanted, or needed. I’m sorry Shane is right about me. I am a piece of shit.”
Brian was quiet for so long that Justin was beginning to think he’d never reply.
“Are you aware what that’s saying about me?”
Justin flinched.
Brian sighed. “That’s why I don’t do relationships, Justin. As soon as you start to talk to somebody, you begin to misunderstand each other. God had the right idea at Babylon. He was trying to do mankind a favor.”
“You mean, he wanted to make sure we couldn’t talk to each other?”
“Best idea anybody ever had,” Brian said.
“You’re in a relationship with Judson,” Justin said. “And then there’s Shane.”
“You spoiled me. Because of you, I started to like having company.”
Gently, Brian freed himself and got to his feet, offering a hand to Justin to pull him up. He brushed bits of soil and grass out of his hair and from his clothes.
“Here, let me,” Justin offered, but Brian caught his hand.
“I’d rather you didn’t.”
Justin stopped and tried to read Brian’s eyes. Damn. The walls were up, and higher than they had ever been.
“Brian. Is it too late to ask what you need?”
Brian shrugged and swallowed. “I’ll let you know if it becomes any of your business.” He turned and left.
This time, Justin felt the pain acutely.
You’re busted, Kinney. You’re so fucking busted.
Hold him in your arms, and nothing else matters. Nobody else matters. It’s all about him.
It’s been like that from the first moment you saw him. Of course you noticed him. Blond beauty, boy ass up for grabs. Like a fucking commercial, with all that vapor swirling behind him. You didn’t give a shit about the guys, and you certainly couldn’t have cared less what Mikey thought.
You broke all your rules for him, the rules that were protecting you from the very effect he had on you.
So tempting, to let somebody in, just a little bit. He was so young, too young to figure you out.
Right, Kinney. You failed to spot that uncanny combination of intelligence and intuition, didn't you. Failed to see that the cute kid had a soul that's at least a hundred years old.
Now what?
Nothing else matters.
