Try, Try Again
“Unnhh,” Brian groaned as he turned over in the uncomfortable bed that Justin slept in every night. His hand reached out for his young lover only to find the bed empty. “Fuck,” Brian murmured as he opened his eyes and looked around the room. Justin was nowhere to be seen.
Brian sat up and threw his legs over the side of the bed. He stood, stretching out his back muscles that hated the fucking bed even more than the rest of him did. He walked to the door of the bedroom naked. He was about to go down the hall to the bathroom when he remembered Justin’s admonition about scaring Carrie, the only female artist of the three who shared the small apartment in New York.
Muttering obscenities Brian went back for his slacks which were in a crumpled heap on the floor. He and Justin had been so eager to fuck after the opening night of the art show, of which Justin had been part, that their clothes had suffered greatly in their haste to get naked. Brian knew he had some sweats in his small suitcase that he had brought for the weekend, but he didn’t want to take time to open it. He needed to pee.
Wearing his rumpled slacks, Brian headed to the bathroom to do his business. There was no sign of the modest Carrie even when Brian headed down the hall to find Justin. He realized he could have been nude and no one would be the wiser. The things he did for his long distance lover.
“Hey,” he said as he entered the kitchen/living room area.
“Hey,” Justin muttered unenthusiastically.
Brian took in the scene – Justin sitting at the tiny table the roommates shared on rare occasions when they ate together, newspapers surrounding him, giant paper coffee cup in his hand.
“Got any more of that?” Brian asked indicating the coffee cup.
Justin pointed to the counter where a similar cup stood. “It probably needs to be reheated.”
“Great!” Brian said sarcastically, but he stuck the cup in the microwave and pushed some buttons. “How long have you been up?”
“Long enough to get these,” Justin replied waving his hand over the coffee cup and the newspapers.
“So what’s the verdict?”
Justin averted his eyes from Brian’s. He looked down at the newspapers. “Mixed,” he mumbled.
Brian knew now what he was dealing with. Justin had hoped, no expected, to get glowing reviews. Brian had known when he walked into the gallery the previous night that Justin’s work was far and away the best in the show.
“What did they say?” Brian asked as he sat down across the table from Justin.
“Domenico liked my pieces,” Justin said looking up.
“Good! What else?”
“Silverman thought the whole show was abysmal, my work included.”
Brian shook his head. That had to hurt. “Fucking asshole! Is that it?”
“No, Masterson liked my masculine/feminine motif, but he thought my pieces were too big, too bold. He doesn’t think they’re saleable. Nobody is likely to purchase art that grabs you by the balls and refuses to let you turn away, Justin read from the review.
Brian chuckled. Justin glared at him. “What?” Brian asked. “I like what he wrote, and I agree with him.”
“You would!”
“I mean that I agree about your work grabbing the viewer by the balls.”
“Yeah, right.”
“Look, I thought your work was far and away the best in the show, so I can see why Dominic liked it,” Brian stated.
“Domenico,” Justin corrected.
“Whatever,” Brian responded. “And Slaverman hated the show. Well, frankly, so did I … except for your pieces of course.”
“Of course,” Justin said sarcastically.
“And Mister-man is right. Your work is genius, but it’s very big.”
Justin chuckled at Brian’s misuse of the reviewers’ names. There was no point in correcting him. “So, you think all the reviews are right? And, by the way, none of them called my work genius.”
“You may have to paint a few more pieces before the general public accredits you with the term genius. I, on the other hand, know genius when I see it.”
Justin couldn’t help but smile at his lover. Brian could be so mean and so wonderful all at the same time. That was one of the things Justin loved about him – harsh or tender at any given moment. Brian’s blatant honesty could be hurtful; while at other times his blatant honesty made Justin feel warm and good. Maybe that should be his next theme for his paintings, another dichotomy. He could start a trend using opposites or complementary ideas, like he had just done with masculine/feminine for the show last night. Harsh/tender – that could work.
Justin’s face sobered. He looked at Brian. “I … I was hoping for more,” Justin said barely above a whisper.
“I know.”
“It … it’s so expensive to live here. I need to sell more paintings.”
“I believe I saw red dots on two of your paintings at the show,” Brian replied.
“Yeah, the smallest paintings.”
“Mister-mini said that the big ones wouldn’t sell, but people obviously liked your work well enough to buy two.”
“Yeah, I guess,” Justin said slowly.
“I saw the sold dots, so don’t doubt yourself.”
Justin looked up at his lover as a not very pleasant thought skimmed through his head. “Brian, you didn’t…?”
“Buy them? No, I didn’t. And if I was going to buy something, I’d buy the big one with the purple streak through it.”
“Of course you would,” Justin said with a grin and a shake of his head. Bigger was always better to Brian. “You know what that is, don’t you?”
“It was called Masculine I,” Brian replied.
“Yes, but what does it represent?”
“Hm,” Brian said as he thought about Justin’s question.
“Surely you recognized that purple streak as a phallic symbol.”
“I knew there was a reason I liked that painting,” Brian said with a smirk. “You can’t resist drawing my dick, can you?”
“It’s eminently drawable, and I see so much of it,” Justin laughed. “Although, not as much as I used to.”
“We can rectify that situation,” Brian said reaching under the small table to find Justin’s crotch.
Justin squirmed away. “Bri-an,” he said, “I really need to figure out what I’m going to do. I don’t make much as a waiter part-time, and the rent and food are expensive in New York, and the sale of two paintings isn’t going to cover me for long…”
“What are you saying?”
“I … I don’t know.”
“I could always…”
“No!”
“No? You don’t even know what I was going to say.”
“You were going to offer to loan me money. I have to do this on my own.”
“But you just said…”
“I know,” Justin sighed. “Maybe it’s time I give up and move back to Pittsburgh.”
“Is that what you want?”
Justin shook his head. “I don’t know what I want. I wanted to be a big success in this show, but … that didn’t happen.”
“So, you’re a failure,” Brian said with venom in his voice.
“No, I’m not a failure,” Justin disagreed, feeling hurt at Brian’s harsh words. But he knew there was a grain of truth in them too. “I’m just not as big a success as I wanted to be.”
“So you’re going to give up.” Justin nodded. “You know that I like to celebrate achievements,” Brian stated. Justin nodded again. “Don’t you see what you achieved in this art show?”
“What?” Justin asked with a frown.
“You sold two paintings. You had good, albeit mixed, reviews. One critic thinks your work grabs the viewer by the balls. I’d say those are all damn good accomplishments.”
Justin stared into Brian’s eyes. There it was once again. With one sentence Brian labels him a failure, and in the next sentence Brian is singing his praises. “You’re nuts, you know,” Justin said shaking his head and smiling in spite of himself.
“I’m here with you, aren’t I?”
Justin burst out laughing. “Yeah, lucky me!”
“You bet your ass!”
“You mean my lovely bubble butt?”
“The very one. And my purple slash, eminently drawable dick is getting some very definite ideas about that butt.”
“No shit!”
“I’d never shit you, Sunshine.”
“Thanks for the pep talk in your inimitable Kinney style,” Justin said standing up.
“Are you ready to celebrate your achievements?”
“Yep.”
“Good, first in bed, and later at one of New York’s better restaurants.”
“Sounds like a plan,” Justin agreed as he dumped the rest of his now cold coffee down the drain.
“Justin,” Brian said suddenly serious, “you’re good at what you do. Don’t let them wear you down. There’s a reason so many artists starve in their garrets for years before the idiot art connoisseurs finally recognize what they’ve achieved.”
“Wow, you paint such a cheery picture of my future,” Justin replied sarcastically.
“You can always count on me to tell you the truth.” Justin nodded. He knew only too well how true that was. “And I have your back no matter what.”
“Can I have your back and your front … and your dick and your lips…”
“You can have anything you want. Come on.”
Brian grabbed his Sunshine’s hand and dragged him down the hall. The slacks would be an even worse rumpled mess when they were done. But what did that matter?
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