The Million Dollar Question

 
 
The collapse of the housing market continued to wreck havoc on Pittsburgh’s economy. Loss of jobs in housing construction was at an all time high, causing insurmountable hardships on families who depended on that market for their livelihoods. This made Anthony Massey’s “Camelot on Tremont” all the more important. The top floor of the building on the corner of Fuller and Tremont now belonged to The Royal Trio. The extensive renovation would entail conjoining the newly acquired unit next to Brian’s. This meant that a separating wall would have to come down, and two additional bedrooms would have to be build into the design. One master bedroom for Justin and one for Gus’s overnight stays. The ambitious project would employ no less than a small legion of union carpenters, engineers, electricians, plumbers, brick masons, and heavy equipment movers. Home improvement stores would also reap substantial benefits, as would nearby restaurants that looked forward to serving additional hungry customers from the construction site.
 
Tony was in his element when he unrolled the blueprint of his vision for his chief engineer’s final inspection. “I’m still worried about this window in Justin’s room, the one that faces Liberty Avenue. With no buildings to block out the elements, it’s going to be freezing in the winter, and sweltering in the summer. I’m not sure that the double insulated windows will be enough,” Tony said.
 
Sanford Holster, of “Holster Construction” ran his index finger across the diagram. “We’re going to put solar paneling along here to harness the sun’s warmth in the winter, and we’ll install special window coverings that are designed to allow sunlight in but still deflect the sun’s UV rays in the summer,” he said.
 
Brian could care less about energy conservation. His only concern was making sure that none of his things would be scratched, broken, or dented during the renovation. “And I don’t want any of that dust to get on my clothes either!” he said in no uncertain terms.
 
“Don’t worry, Mr. Kinney, we’re going to erect a partition that will keep your unit virtually dust free. Most of the work will be done in the adjacent unit first,” Mr. Holster assured him.
 
“What about when you start putting in the new floors? You can’t tell me that’s not going to be dusty,” Brian said.
 
“Brian, we can move your things into storage if that will make you feel more comfortable,” Tony interjected.
 
“I don’t want my things in storage. They never come back the same. Have you seen some of the critters that breed in those places?” Brian pointed out.
 
“I’m sure we can find adequate accommodations for your things, Brian.” Tony wanted to move on. Time was money.
 
“Adequate accommodations is just fancy lingo for storage.” Brian wasn’t budging on this issue.
 
By now Justin was used to Brian and Tony’s volleying back & forth. He had learned that it was best just to stay out of it, and allow the two of them to come to their own compromise. Besides, today was far more important than the storage of Brian’s designer suits, and overpriced furniture. Today was the “happily-ever-after” day that every princess dreamed of. Indeed, Justin had captured the hearts of both of his princes, and they were building him a lofted castle that overlooked the heart of his kingdom, Liberty Avenue. Justin left Brian’s loft, and stood in the hallway. His heart raced with excitement as he observed the arrival of truckloads of materials that were being delivered to begin work on the newly acquired unit next door. Suspension beams, sheets of drywall, slabs of marble, and gallons of paint were all being meticulously checked for measurements, color palate, and quality assurance. Anthony Massey being a stickler for detail was legendary. It showed in his hotels, and he would accept nothing less than that same perfection when it came to his home. As the workers continued to haul in their loads, an unexpected face stepped off of the elevator lift. It was Chris Hobbs.
 
This was the first time Justin had seen his attacker since that fateful prom night when the former captain of the football team at St. James Academy nearly ended his life. It was a hate-crime that outraged Pittsburgh’s gay community, but turned out to be just another misdemeanor day at the office for the judicial system. The vicious assault that left Justin for dead on a parking garage floor was deemed insignificant when Christopher Hobbs was given a minor community service slap on the wrist. Outraged, Brian and Tony chose to serve up their own form of vigilante justice. Brian went after the judge by reviving an old science project that left his honor’s ass stuck to his favorite toilet seat in the courthouse washroom, while the ever practical Anthony Massey went after young Mr. Hobbs where he knew it would hurt the most. Tony used his influence, and sent personal letters to his cronies at several major universities. He implored them to withdraw their athletic scholarships, and to disallow a hate monger onto their campuses.
 
Justin hid behind a tall panel of drywall. He watched as his assailant placed the load of wooden beams he was carrying down onto the floor, then walk back to the elevator lift. This unforeseen sighting instantly triggered terrifying memories that until today Justin had safely locked away in a never visited corner of his mind. Seeing Chris Hobbs had brought all of those memories back to the foreground. The kiss at Brian’s jeep, followed by excruciating pain, and a blinding flash of light, Justin remembered waking up in the hospital. Heavily bandaged, and with his eyes swollen shut, he could hear the muffled sobs of his mother. Justin remembered trying desperately to answer her. He wanted to comfort her, but his body wouldn’t respond. He couldn’t speak. He couldn’t move. He could only lie there, and ponder the horrific possibility of existing for the remainder of his life as a kind of living dead.
 
What does one say to the person who tried to kill you? Is there etiquette for such a chance meeting? Justin did not want to wait around to find out. With safety within sight, the terrified young man abandoned his drywall bunker for the security of his two princes. He had almost made it to Brian’s door when the elevator returned, and Chris Hobbs once again stepped off. This time he spotted Justin.
 
“What’s up, Taylor?” Hobbs said in passing.
 
Justin stopped dead in his tracks. Did he just hear what he thought he heard? Did Chris Hobbs just speak to him as if they were two buddies passing on the schoolyard? Justin made an about-face, and followed Hobbs into the work area. “Hobbs, what are you doing here?” he demanded.
 
“What the hell does it look like I’m doing here? I’m working.” Hobbs finished placing his wooden beams on the floor before turning to face Justin. The years of manual labor showed. Standing there in his white hardhat and blue flannel checked shirt, his robust frame towered over the little blond that dared to confront him.
 
“You’re not supposed to be here. I don’t want you here.” Justin took a step backward.
 
Hobbs took an intimidating step forward. “I work for Holster Construction. I have every right to be here,” he said.
 
“You don’t even have a right to be walking the streets. You tried to kill me.” Justin stood his ground.
 
“The judge gave me six months of community service, and two years probation. I’ve paid my debt to society,” Hobbs said.
 
“Maybe so, but you never paid your debt to me,” Justin reminded him. “You almost took my life. I was in a coma for three days. The doctors said that if the blow to my head had landed a couple of inches more to the left I would have died. I had to learn how to dress myself all over again. For months I had recurring nightmares of the attack, and to this day, there are still times when I have headaches that hurt so bad I can’t get out of bed. Do you know how many months of therapy I had to go through just to regain partial use of my hand? You nearly took away my dream of becoming an artist.”
 
“Your dream? What about my dream?” Hobbs interrupted. “I couldn’t go to college because of you. My parents didn’t have that kind of money, and I wasn’t fucking any rich old men who could pay my way like you. I was a shoe-in for a full athletic scholarship, but I lost that because of you. Do you think I wanted to live in Pittsburgh, doing manual labor like my father for the rest of my life? I could have been drafted by the NFL. I had the talent, but I lost everything because of you.”
 
“You lost everything because you’re a hypocrite, and a homophobic prick. Now, get off my property, before I have you tossed off.” Justin turned and walked away.
 
Christopher Hobbs had hoped to complete this assignment in obscurity. Normally, only the site foreman interacted directly with the client. Of course it would be his misfortune to run into the one person in the world that he never wanted to see again. The cocky little faggot, how dare Taylor come sashaying in, and fire him on the spot for something that happened years ago, something that would have never happened if the queer had kept his hands to himself. Hobbs could feel himself becoming more and more enraged by the second. This was the kind of bullshit that caused normal employees to “go postal”, and kill their bosses.
 
“Taylor, wait!” Hobbs went after Justin.
 
Justin stopped when he heard his name called. He then turned around to find Chris Hobbs already upon him. “We have nothing more to say to each other,” Justin said.
 
“You can’t fire me, Taylor. I need this job. I’ve got a wife and a kid to support. I haven’t worked in almost two years. I’ve been collecting unemployment, and doing odd jobs just to get by,” Hobbs confessed.
 
“A kid, you’ve got a kid?” Justin was momentarily taken aback.
 
“Yeah, a little girl, her name is Rebecca. She’s eighteen months old. I need this job, Taylor,” Hobbs reiterated.
 
It was then that Justin realized that life had moved on. Not only had it moved on, but it had come full circle. Now it was Justin who held the proverbial bat in his hand. The million dollar question was would he swing it. Nothing hurts worse than to take away a man’s pride, and nothing can eat away at a man’s pride like taking away his ability to provide for his family. Justin looked up into the eyes of the man who tried to kill him. Was revenge motive enough to take food away from the table of his wife and baby?
 
“I’m sorry. I guess I was a little hasty. You can go back to work now,” Justin decided.
 
“Thanks, Taylor. You won’t regret this.” Chris Hobbs breathed a sigh of relief.
 
“One more thing, before you go. From now on, you will address me as Mr. Taylor. Have I made myself clear?” Justin added.
 
“Sure,” Hobbs said.
 
“Excuse me?” Justin waited for the proper response.
 
“Yes, Mr. Taylor,” Hobbs begrudgingly corrected himself.
 

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