Lakevallée, Sunday, July 19th…

Sitting on the balcony outside his cozy room, Justin wonders for the thousandth time what he is doing here. Lakevallée is a stunning place, though, so he isn’t completely wasting his time. But still.

Now that his momentary insanity has faded, he feels like a fool. But he can either brood some more about how pathetic he is to be here because of the fucking picture of a man that reminded him of Brian, or he can enjoy this impromptu vacation.

So, he decides to go to the gallery which, as he discovers when he gets there at ten-thirty, is already filled with tourists. Entering the old train station, which was converted into a gallery almost a century ago, Justin is immediately struck by its singularity. This place is truly magnificent.

He strolls around the main room for the next hour or so, where paintings and sculptures are on display - appreciating the variety and quality of the artwork.

“It’s truly amazing, isn’t it?” a voice declares after he has been standing in front of a painting of Lakevallée’s main street for five minutes. Turning to look at the stranger, he first notices the man’s eyes. They’re a very pale shade of green. “I’m sorry,” the dark-blond haired man apologizes, extending his hand. “I’m Gabriel Harrington, the owner of this gallery. I didn’t mean to intrude, but I couldn’t help but notice your interest while you were admiring the other paintings a few minutes ago.”

“They’re all incredible,” Justin confirms as he shakes the man’s hand, waving at three more paintings on the same wall. “I’ve never heard of this artist.”

“Connor has rarely exhibited his art anywhere other than this gallery.” Gabriel discloses with a smile, before clarifying, “He was born here.”

“Well, he is very talented. It’s been a while since I’ve seen anyone apply colorful gouache with such a fine technique.” Justin asserts before introducing himself. “I’m Justin Taylor.”

“Nice to meet you,” Gabriel politely responds. “Are you an artist?”

“I used to be,” Justin shrugs.

“Hmm,” Gabriel’s brow furrows as he looks at the younger man. “Do you like the town so far?”

“I just arrived last night, but, yes, it’s really a charming place.” Justin replies. “In fact, I came here because I saw an article about your annual photography exhibition in PleinAir.”

Gabriels nods, gesturing to a small door at the back of the room. “Most of the photographs are still being exhibited in the second room. Have you already seen them?”

“No,” Justin replies, his interest piqued.

“Well then, please do. They really are worth a look.” Gabriel recommends, guiding Justin toward that area.

They enter a smaller room with large, partly opaque windows, a few rays illuminating the patterned, black and white cement tiles. Justin immediately notices each grouping of pictures. He calculates that seven photographers must be showing their work.

“One resident from Lakevallée was selected this year. The others are from all over the United States - Maryland, California, Oregon, Indiana, Georgia, and Oklahoma.” Gabriel informs Justin.

“Who is the resident from Lakevallée?” Justin asks out of curiosity.

“Liam Byron. His work is over there,” Gabriel points at a few photographs. “Don’t look too closely at his picture though. He looks like the Grinch. I always tell him he should practice smiling more.”

“I…” Justin’s voice trails off as he discovers the photo of the man Gabriel has just identified as Liam Byron and recognizes him from the PleinAir magazine. His hair is partly hidden by a grey Aston cap, brown strands straggling over his ears, an unkempt beard and mustache covering most of his face. Black-framed eyeglasses with thick lenses make it hard to discern the color of his eyes, especially with the cap shadowing his forehead. The man does have a prominent nose, but, really - now that Justin studies a larger version of the man he saw in that photo a few days ago - it’s the only feature that reminds him of Brian’s visage. Nothing else is the same.

His skin looks roughened and sunburned, while his ex always slathered on anti-aging lotion to keep his skin smooth and youthful. Even his hair is darker. Besides, Brian wouldn’t have been caught dead in a plaid shirt that looks like it was purchased at Walmart.

Even so, Justin’s heart is pounding, and he can’t tear his gaze away from Liam Byron.

“Are you okay?” Gabriel asks in a concerned tone.

“What?” Justin responds absentmindedly, before realizing he’s zoned out and refocusing on Gabriel. “Oh, yeah. Sure? I’m just a little tired, that’s all. It was a long trip and I... well...” he stammers anxiously, unable to explain his odd behavior.

“Where did you travel from?” Gabriel inquires, ignoring Justin’s uneasiness.

“Philadelphia.” Justin answers as nonchalantly as possible. He glances quickly at Liam’s picture one more time, berating himself for reacting so stupidly when this man is clearly a complete stranger.

“It’s what… a five-hour flight to reach Billings?”

“Six at least,” Justin corrects. “Add to that the three-hour drive to Lakevallée.”

“Well, Lakevallée is a great place to relax and enjoy the scenery, so I hope you will enjoy your stay.”

Justin nods as he studies the panel of photographs in front of him. He recognizes the lake, although Byron has also focused on details, capturing the flow of water in an amazing shading of black and while, using the sunshine reflecting on the surface. Another picture makes him smile. Five ducks are standing on the lakeshore, one taller than the others, apparently contemplating the boat slowly floating at the end of the nearby pier. The legend says, ‘Bob on vacation with his family in Lakevallée’.

“I’m sure I will.” Justin finally responds to Gabriel, still staring at the ducks. “These photographs are really good,” he states, indicating Liam Byron’s works with a tilt of his head. “Is Mr. Byron exhibiting other work elsewhere?”

“Liam has a studio up the street,” Gabriel reveals. “You can go now if you want. He should be there, although he is usually working in the morning, so he probably won’t answer. But he opens the studio to customers in the afternoon.”

“Thanks. I’ll give it a try,” Justin replies. “It was really nice to meet you. Your gallery is incredible.”

“I’m glad you think so. Don’t hesitate to come back; it’s always nice to talk about art with people who appreciate real talent.” Gabriel offers, accompanying Justin to the front door. “Liam’s studio is about two hundred yards from here. You can’t miss it.”

Justin smiles broadly at Gabriel, shaking his hand, before exiting the gallery.

***

Same time, Liam’s studio…

Liam shuts off the overhead light, only a safelight now glowing in the room, and aims the lens after having placed the negative from the developed roll of film into the enlarger. An image of Lakevallée’s dock appears on the easel, with an elderly man sitting on an old chair, smoking a pipe, his face closed off as he stares into the distance.

A few minutes later, after having tested several exposure times, he places the chosen sheet of paper into the tray full of developer and grabs the tongs, moving the paper slowly. He watches as the picture comes to life, and when he is satisfied with the result, he carefully transfers it to a stop bath, and finally to a third tray of fixer to set the image.

The bell for the studio rings, just as Liam uses the dimmer switch to turn the overhead light on to its lowest setting. He frowns and decides to ignore whoever is at the door, hanging the picture up to dry, but the bell peals a second time. Cursing, he realizes the security monitor is turned off and grabs the remote to turn it back on, before picking up the tray full of developer to empty it. As he heads toward the special container to dispose of it safely, he peers at the screen in one corner of the room.

What he sees causes him to drop the tray, which lands with a loud clatter, the developer splashing all over his feet and the floor.

He hasn’t seen him in almost six years, back when he was still Brian Kinney, advertising genius and the stud of Liberty Avenue. That’s why the sight of him standing at his front door, waiting for the brunet to come greet him is too much for him to process. He can’t be here. Liam is sure his brain is just messing with him again, that if he closes his eyes long enough, the young man Brian tried so hard not to fall in love with all those years ago will be gone.

So he does, but the blond is still there when Liam tentatively looks at the monitor again. He shakes his head, whispering a pleading, “No,” because he doesn’t know what else to do. His former lover isn’t supposed to be here, not with Malone still free to kill anyone Brian Kinney cares about, should the trafficker discover he is still alive.

Although, Liam isn’t Brian. Not anymore. Brian would never have agreed to hide or to pretend to be someone else when he woke up almost three years ago in that hospital bed. He would have fought to get his life back. But knowing a fucking psycho had gone so far as to orchestrate his murder changed the game.

“Jesus Christ!” Liam snaps, alone in the darkroom. He peers down at his feet, realizing he needs to clean up the chemical substance he dropped on the floor. So he heads toward a cabinet to retrieve a pair of gloves and a sponge, hastily wiping the liquid off his boots before washing the floor. It takes him fifteen minutes to finish cleaning his equipment, and by the time Liam dares to gaze at the monitor once more, Justin Taylor is gone.

He exits the darkroom and snatches a pair of black pants and his deck shoes from the closet along the opposite wall, divesting himself of his ruined blue jeans and tossing both his boots and jeans into a bag. He then heads up the stairs to the first floor, bypassing the studio on his right and stepping into his office to grab his jacket and helmet from the desk, before storming out the back door.

Twelve minutes later, he turns off his old Harley and rolls it into the carport. Entering the chalet, he immediately rushes to his room, heading straight for the desk. He walks past it, stopping in front a wooden panel which slowly moves as Liam pushes on it, revealing a prepaid cell phone and an envelope.

Liam takes the phone and keys in a number before starting to pace, removing his cap and nervously running a hand through his hair.

At the first ring, Carl Horvath’s voice sharply orders, “Hold on a sec...”

Liam hears voices in the background and waits for the detective to go somewhere quieter. Once Horvath informs him that he can safely speak, Liam immediately snarls, unable to control his agitation, “He’s here.”

“Sorry, what?” Horvath replies, confused.

“Justin Taylor. He’s fucking here! How the fuck could you let this happen?” Liam barks, briefly considering how disastrous it would have been if he’d come face to face with the young man, completely unprepared.

“Justin’s in Lakevallée?” Horvath echoes, bewildered.

“You fucking fix this.” Liam demands, cold anger flooding his veins. “He showed up at my studio this morning. It can’t be a coincidence, so tell me you’re going to fix it, or I swear to God-”

“Calm down,” Horvath cuts him off firmly. “Have you talked to him yet?”

“No!” Liam exclaims as he finally stops pacing and sits on his bed, rubbing his face. “You think I’m fucking crazy?”

“But, was he agitated? I mean, do you think he was here to see... you?” Carl pushes, both men understanding what the detective is implying.

“I…” Liam pauses, considering the question. “No. I mean, he didn’t look like a guy who’d just discovered his… ex lied to him by pretending to be fucking gone for the last six years.”

“Okay. So, think about it...” Horvath rationalizes. “Even though it’s hard to believe Justin would show up there randomly, he has no way of knowing you’re alive.”

“But for what other reason would he just show up at my studio?” Liam questions. “Are you crazy enough to think it’s just a coincidence?”

“No,” Horvath denies. “But if he knew you were alive, he would have confronted you already and we wouldn’t be having that conversation.”

“Shit,” Brian curses, realizing Horvath is right. Justin wouldn’t have left the studio if he thought Brian was in there. And the blond didn’t appear to be agitated while he was waiting for Liam to open the door.

“And…” Horvath continues, Liam catching a strange note of discomfort in his voice, “...it’s hardly likely he’ll recognize you.”

“What are you saying?” Liam questions.

Horvath takes a deep breath. “I’m quite sure Justin doesn’t know who you are. You’ve done such a great job of disguising your appearance, that if I didn’t know you, I’d never make the connection myself.” he asserts. “That gives you two options. Either you avoid him until he leaves, if you can, or…”

“You’re not suggesting that I talk to him, right?” Liam asks, flabbergasted.

“It could be good to know why he showed up in Lakevallée in the first place,” Horvath argues, before adding, his voice tinged with compassion, “I can’t ask you to approach him, knowing all you’ve gone through already. But I don’t like coincidence either, and if he found you because he discovered something he shouldn’t have, we need to know exactly what it is. We can’t ignore the possibility that Malone could still come after you, even though it’s unlikely after all this time. He could even be using him somehow.”

Liam squeezes his eyes shut, shaking his head. “I can’t deal with that, Carl.”

“I understand, son,” Carl replies gently. “You need to be careful, though. Avoiding Justin could make him suspicious, even if there’s a possibility that facing him could lead to more problems for both of you, especially if he knows something we don’t.”

“Fuck…” Liam breathes out, feeling exhaustion wash over him. “This is completely fucked up.”

“I agree,” Carl commiserates. “Listen, I’ll try to find out what Taylor is doing in Lakevallée, so we can decide how to respond. In the meantime, you do what you feel is best, okay?”

“We need to discover why he’s here,” Liam concurs tiredly, knowing he can’t just ignore a situation that could blow up in his face if he doesn’t try to address it. “I’ll keep you posted if I find out anything.”

“You do that.” Carl agrees.

After several seconds during which neither man says anything, Liam inquires so softly that he isn't sure the detective has heard him, “How are they?”

“They’re okay,” Carl responds, understanding immediately what Liam is asking.

Liam sighs loudly, stating hurriedly, “I’ll keep you posted,” not waiting for an answer before hanging up.

He fidgets with the phone for a couple of minutes, then stands up and replaces it in the secret cubbyhole, closing the wooden panel. He braces his hands on the wall and winces, trying to think of something to do. How the fuck is he supposed to deal with Justin’s presence in Lakevallée? Carl may have a point - his former lover most likely won’t recognize him - but Liam is worried about the damage such an encounter could cause. Dealing with the loss of his friends and family was hard enough, but lying? He isn’t supposed to have to lie, not to the only man he ever let get close to him in the past. And then what? What will happen if Liam fucks up and Justin discovers the truth?

Carl is right, though. They need to discover why his former lover is in Lakevallée in the first place.

Liam snorts, knowing the only way to deal with this is to face Justin. In other words, he is screwed.

***

Justin goes back to his hotel after his unsuccessful attempt to visit Byron’s studio. He enjoys a light lunch, sitting in the sun, before walking to the dock, where he relaxes on the grass for half an hour, just looking around.

He doesn’t let his thoughts wander though, preferring to focus on the scenery. It’s quite peaceful here. Two people arrive and climb into a speedboat moored at the dock, navigating away and disappearing from Justin’s sight after a couple of minutes.

When Justin reaches the studio, it’s already two-forty-five. He enters the first room - the one open to customers - mingling with the five other people who are already there. He notices an open door leading to what might be an office, surmising it’s Byron’s. Curious, he pretends to look at a photograph and tries to hear whether anyone is in there, before leaning against the doorframe.

“That area is private,” a voice warns him, startling Justin, who steps back. He looks around, discovering the receptionist from the hotel who checked him in the previous night.

“I’m sorry. I...” Justin stammers.

“You shouldn’t go in there,” The man repeats in a low voice, and Justin frowns when he sees the strange, almost pleading look on the man’s face.

“Again, I didn’t know…” Justin tries to excuse himself, but the man cuts him off.

“I’m just telling you because any time someone tries to enter Liam’s sanctuary without his consent, something awful happens. It’s like a curse. They either break their neck tripping down the staircase leading to the darkroom, or they’re hit by a truck when they leave and go to cross the street. I always suspected the owner of this studio of being a voodoo fetishist who likes to play with dolls and stab them long and hard...”

“Connor, that’s enough.” A deep, gravelly voice curtly interrupts the man.

Justin feels an inexplicable tension as he freezes, unable to move or meet Liam’s stare.

“Hello to you, too,” Connor finally retorts, breaking the uncomfortable silence.

“I didn’t mean to pry,” Justin volunteers, finally peering up at Liam and feeling his heart pounding hard in his chest as he sees him for the first time. The man is tall, lean, his messy, dark-brown hair longer than he imagined, almost falling to his shoulders while tucked behind his ears. He is wearing the same black-framed eyeglasses and Aston grey cap as in his picture. His beard is in disarray. His red plaid shirt has known better days. To sum it up, although he does resemble Brian, Liam Byron is nothing like him, and yet, there’s something about the photographer that immediately draws Justin to him, which is insane. Why is he reacting so strongly to a man he has never met before?

“It’s okay,” Liam responds with a slight smile, even his voice reminding him of Brian somehow, although Liam’s accent is slightly different. Justin sighs, inwardly chastising himself for comparing the two men. “Connor’s always had a weird sense of humor.” Liam continues, unaware of Justin’s inner debate. “Although, all geniuses are a little odd.”

“Hey!” Connor playfully slaps Liam’s arm.

“You’re the painter?” Justin inquires, not sure if his assumption is correct. “I saw some incredible gouaches at the gallery earlier today, and the owner told me the artist’s first name was Connor.”

“Never heard of him,” Connor dismisses his comment in a serious tone.

“Connor…” Liam chides, giving him a sharp look. “Cut the crap.”

“What? You said I was odd. I’m just living up to my reputation.” Connor counters derisively, prompting Liam to roll his eyes. Justin realizes the two men must know each other well to banter like this.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t introduce myself. I’m Justin Taylor,” he intervenes, extending his hand.

“Liam Byron,” the photographer responds, accepting the offered handshake. “It’s… nice to meet you.”

The touch lasts for a bit too long, so much so that Connor clears his throat on purpose, before giving Liam a huge grin. “This encounter is lovely and all, but I have work to do. Tell Gabriel I’ll have the painting ready by tomorrow.”

“Why don’t you tell him yourself?” Liam mocks. “I’m not your personal secretary.”

“Please…” Connor surprisingly insists, making Justin frown in puzzlement.

Liam eyes the brunet for a few seconds, before relenting, “I’ll tell him.”

Connor nods, turning to Justin and declaring, “If you need anything, Liam is probably the worst person ever for the job. So, if he doesn’t behave and starts his voodoo shit, you come to find me, okay?”

Justin stares at the painter dubiously, responding with a hesitant, “Sure?”

“Connor,” Liam interjects, “get lost,”

“Have a nice day!” Connor bids them goodbye, before heading to the front door and exiting the studio.

Liam stares after him for a few seconds, before looking around at the other customers. He finally directs his gaze at Justin, who feels a shiver pass through him. “What can I do for you?”

“Huh?” Justin eloquently replies to Liam’s query.

“Is that a particularly… difficult question?” Liam enunciates slowly, making Justin feel like a moron while his heart inexplicably skips a beat.

“No, I mean…” Justin begins, hating himself for acting so dumb. “I came here for your photos… obviously. I visited the gallery earlier this morning, and Gabriel was nice enough to give me a tour, and I… well, your work is incredible, especially your use of black and white.”

“Hmm,” Liam assesses in a doubting tone. “So, you want to purchase a photo?”

“I…” Justin opens his mouth, realizing he hasn’t thought this through. “Maybe?”

Liam actually chuckles. “You do understand Connor is full of shit and that I can’t actually get into your head, right?”

“Of course. I’m sorry, I’d love to purchase a photo,” he confirms at last. Why on earth he asks his next question, he will never know, “And I was wondering… is there any possibility you’d teach me how to use a camera, maybe go out and take a few snaps?”

“What?” Liam stares at him in evident astonishment.

“I mean…” Justin stammers, feeling like he has been possessed by foot-in-mouth disease. Who would ask a professional photographer he has never met before to teach a stranger how to take pictures?

“You want me to teach you how to shoot photographs?” Liam reformulates his question, still looking quite bewildered by the request.

Of course, since Justin is really a lost cause, he stammers again, “I…”

Liam laughs dryly, eying Justin askance. “That’s a first. People usually avoid me like the plague.”

“Well, I don’t care much for people either, so…” Justin volunteers with a shrug.

Liam doesn’t respond, and after a moment, Justin feels himself squirming under his intense stare. The whole thing suddenly feels like a bad idea. “Forget I…”

“Tomorrow morning, five-thirty. I’ll pick you up from wherever you’re staying.” Liam abruptly declares, surprising Justin.

“I’m at the Decunn Hotel.” Justin discloses, too dumbfounded by Liam’s proposal to question it.

“Hmm, I’ll see you tomorrow then.” Liam confirms before striding away to talk with one of the other customers.

“Okay,” Justin replies even though Liam has already walked off. He keeps watching the photographer until he realizes he is openly eying the man, glancing at the few other customers to make sure they’re not looking at him suspiciously. Finally snapping out of his trance, he exits the studio and heads back to the hotel, wondering once again what the fuck he is doing and why he is looking forward to spending more time with Liam Byron.

***

Meanwhile, across the street, a man is standing, a cellphone to his ear. When the phone call connects, he breathes out, “Taylor just met Byron.” He listens to the caller’s question, before divulging, “No. I don’t think he recognized him.” He waits, nodding his head a few times, before muttering, “Will do.” and ending the call.

Then, he sighs, observing Taylor walking away, before he heads off down the sidewalk.