Justin’s POV

 “What a day! Worse than a double shift at the diner. The difference is I am making way more money and I don’t have to flirt or get groped for tips.”  As I crawl into the back seat of the luxurious town car, I thank my lucky stars and my driver, Mr. Palmer.  He is always so prompt and pleasant no matter what time of day or night his services are needed. Brett was kind enough to loan him to me for the duration of my stay while we are working on Rage the Movie. The traffic in this city is horrendous and I am still trying to find my way around in it, to no avail.

 “You are so very welcome, Justin. Long day at the office?”

“You have no idea, Sir. I am absolutely beyond knackered this evening. I finally realize why everyone who is working on this Rage project here in LaLa Land is completely bonkers. They work 12 hour days and party till dawn seven days a week. Wash, rinse, repeat. Sleep deprivation affects memory, creativity, concentration, and raises levels of stress. It’s been four months but I am still not used to this crazy pace. Sorry about the rant, Mr. Palmer.”

 “Think nothing of it son, because you just said a mouthful. The way some of the fools drive up and down these roads, you have to wonder if they’re drunk, high, or asleep behind the wheel.”

“My partner Brian always accuses me of being a walking PSA but statistics prove…”

My cell phone belts out the lyrics to Beverly Hillbillies theme song. I know, it’s so lame and totally cliché but I loved that sitcom. “Excuse me for a moment, Mr. Palmer. Hey Brett, what’s up! Seriously? Are you kidding me? Look, I’m on the way so I’ll see you in twenty minutes.” I disconnected the call.

“Is there a problem, Kid? If you need to go back to the studio just say the word and I can just turn this fancy jalopy around.”

“No, sir. The only problem is that the day isn’t over. Brett claims he needs all hands on deck because we need to schmooze a group of power players with deep pockets who plan to attend some dinner party he decided to throw tonight. Apparently, these moneybags are holding the cash that helps to finance this movie project that is already over budget. I would love nothing better than to tell Brett that I’m too wiped out to even think about showing my face at this celebrity who’s who tonight but he would have a fit.”

“Well Justin, it’s a dirty job, but somebody has to do it. Try not to party too hard because I will be here for you at 8 am sharp.  You are still a growing boy so try to get some rest so that you will be bright-eyed and bushy-tailed tomorrow.”

 “Will do and thanks again, Mr. Palmer. See you in the morning.”

I let myself into my temporary home and all I want to do is crash on my comfy bed all alone in this bungalow for a couple of hours. Then I will get cleaned up and make nice with some of Brett’s powers that be. The cottage smells lemony fresh courtesy of the hired help Brett uses to spruce up the place for events like the one he is putting on tonight. As I enter my bedroom, I see a tall slim woman dusting the nightstand and peering intently at the framed photo of Brian.

She was at least an inch maybe two taller than me and toned like most of the beautiful people here in LaLa Land. Her wavy auburn hair hung down to the middle of her back in a ponytail. She was wearing skintight black jeans, a snug black tee that barely covered her midsection, and black high-top Nikes.

“Hi, the place looks great. Thank you and let me give you something extra for your trouble. I am so sorry I left this place in such a mess this morning.”

The woman turned around slowly to face me. She had bold beautiful features but she was just a girl in her late teens, maybe.

 “Hey, how are you doing? Listen, do you mind if I ask you a question?”  She poked the tip of her tongue out and glanced at me from the corner of her eyes. “How do you know this guy, Brian Kinney?”

“I’ve known him three years. Brian is my…he’s…my partner but, it’s complicated. Why do you ask?”

The pretty teen smiled and rolled her full lips into her lush mouth. “And, when you say partner are we talking business, pleasure, or both?” 

I gasped as the breath I was holding left my lungs in a rush.

“Hey dude, just keep calm and breathe.  What’s the matter? Are you feeling okay because you look like you’ve just seen a ghost? Maybe you should sit down for a minute. Can I get you a bottle of water from the fridge?”

 “No thanks and I’m sorry Miss, uh, have we met because I don’t believe I know you? By the way, my name is Justin Taylor. Who are you? What is your name?”

The stunning teen rolled her eyes and tossed the thick locks of hair over her left shoulder. “Sooooo many questions but I’m okay with that. However, I think the polite thing to do would be to introduce myself. I am pleased to meet you, Justin Taylor. Most of my friends still call me Ginger on account of the hair when I was a little kid.  Not a day goes by that I forget to thank all the gods who heard my prayers and blessed me by toning it down a few shades. But my government name is Breeahna K. Johnson.”

The young woman stepped closer to me slipped a card into my sweaty palm. I scanned the information on the card quickly.

“Wow! You just turned two shades paler than you were a moment ago. You must not be from around here. Anywho, I would give you three guesses as to what the ‘K’ may stand for Mr. Justin Taylor, but you look like a smart guy so I don’t think you will need that many. And now that I have let you all up into my business, I have a question for you. Who do you think I am?” 

My knees gave out so I decided to take her advice and sit down on the edge of my king-sized bed. My mind went blank and I couldn’t form a sentence if my life depended on it. All I could do was gaze at the attractive young woman before me. Her flawless skin was light gold and the wavy hair was a medium shade of Auburn. The wide-set round eyes were a paler shade of green but those differences didn’t matter. I was staring at someone who was the image of Brian Kinney if special effects animators were to morph his features, face, and form into that of a teenaged girl.

This is so surreal. Maybe this is all a crazy dream. I came in the cottage and fell asleep because I like I told Mr. Palmer, sleep deprivation is like that. Not!

Oh my god, there is no way I can ignore this or even think about keeping something like this on the low.  Maybe I am jumping the gun and or jumping to conclusions but I don’t believe I am.  What am I going to do about Brian! 

It’s bad enough that I feel like he has been distancing himself from me lately. I know he’s working extra hard on several important accounts. I haven’t seen him in over a month and we used to talk several nights a week but the calls are down to a trickle. Brett assured me that I was only supposed to be here in Hollywood for six weeks but it has been longer than four months and we are still slogging our way through this project with no end in sight.

Brian’s recent radio silence tells me that something is up with him. In my expert opinion, he is making his way toward Mt. Kinney and is about to boot someone…me… off of it!

How in the name of Gay Hell do I go about telling him about this girl? How in the world is he going to handle a revelation like this?  I am going to have to talk to Brian in person because this development is way too big to discuss over the phone. I can visualize exactly what will happen. His head will explode, he will have a meltdown, and then he will have the queen out of the century. But before I tell him anything I will need a lot more information, cold hard facts, and irrefutable proof.

Because according to this girl’s… Breeahna K. Johnson’s…driver’s license, and the smirk on her gorgeous face, I have almost no doubt that the sixteen-year-old daughter of Brian ‘take no prisoners’ Kinney is standing in my bedroom.

God help us all!

TBC