The Trip Up
“Meet me at Babylon,” Brian said into his phone. He snapped it shut as soon as
his voicemail had been recorded. He could learn to hate voicemail. He wanted to
talk to Justin. Better yet, he wanted Justin there with him.
Where the fuck was Justin Taylor anyway? They had been going to go to Babylon
when Justin finished his shift at the diner. Then apparently Debbie had some
sort of emergency at the diner and Justin had to stay to help her with it. What
the fuck kind of emergency could a diner have? The coffeepot overflowed, or they
poisoned half their clientele with the pink plate special, or the fucking grease
went rancid. Wasn’t it rancid most of the time anyway?
Brian leaned on the bar at Babylon. He had already had several drinks, but he
wanted another one. No, he needed another one. The usual bartender had
just disappeared to be replaced with someone on the other side of the counter
who seemed intent on ignoring Brian. Brian glared at the man until he was forced
by the sheer will of Brian Kinney to leave the person he was serving to find out
what the Kinney wanted.
“What can I get you?” the guy asked. He was new. Someone Brian had never seen
before.
“A little service would be nice,” Brian said sarcastically.
“I asked you what you wanted,” the guy said snottily.
Brian glared at him, but it seemed to have little effect. “Scotch - double,”
Brian snapped.
The bartender poured the liquor and plunked it down heavily on the bar. “Ten
bucks,” the bartender told him.
“Add it to my tab.”
“We don’t run tabs.”
“I run a tab,” Brian spat through clenched teeth. Could this night get
any worse?
“I don’t know who you are,” the bartender reminded Brian in no uncertain terms.
“Brian. Kinney!”
“You! You’re Brian Kinney? I’ve heard of you, but you don’t look like so much,”
the bartender stated.
“And who the fuck asked for your opinion!” Brian shot back. He tossed back his
drink and turned on his heel. He went up the steps so he could look down on the
dance floor. He pulled out his phone and called Justin again. It went to
voicemail. “Fuck!” Brian said. “Taylor, my patience is running out. Get over
here!” He snapped the phone shut once again. He wasn’t going to be responsible
for what he did, if Justin Taylor didn’t get his ass to Babylon … and soon.
“Hey Brian,” a voice said behind him.
“Anita, as I live and breathe,” Brian replied. He turned to face his once and
sometimes drug supplier. “Got anything good? I’m not buying shit.”
“I never sell shit. You should know that.”
“Yeah, right,” Brian said sarcastically.
“Well, if my stuff ain’t good enough for you then take your fucking business
elsewhere.”
“Okay, okay,” Brian said. “I need something. This has been a for shit day, and
tonight is even worse. What have you got?”
“This will do the trick,” Anita said handing him a packet with three pills in
it.
Brian looked at the small packet suspiciously. “It’s good?”
“The best.”
“What is it?”
“Does it matter?”
“How much?”
“The usual.”
Brian handed her a few bills before she vanished as suddenly as she had
appeared. He pulled out one of the pills and dry swallowed it. He waited for
something to happen. Nothing! Maybe she meant he was to take all three. He
tossed back the other two and waited. Again, nothing.
“Fuck!” Brian said aloud. He had just wasted good money on crap. He made his way
over to the upstairs bar. The bartender there was a familiar face. He didn’t
need any more shit like he got from that fucker downstairs. “Scotch – double,”
he told Joe or Jack or John or whatever the fuck the guy’s name was.
Jim poured the scotch, but he felt compelled to say, “Brian, I think you should
slow down.”
“Thanks for your unsolicited advice. I have barely begun.” He turned away to
look for a likely prospect. His dick was suddenly feeling rather energetic.
Maybe there was something in that shit that Anita had sold him. He scanned the
men passing by.
“You!” he said after a minute as a young blond man he had never seen before came
to the bar.
“Beer,” the blond said to the bartender.
“I want you,” Brian said again, his words starting to slur. This guy was no
Justin Taylor, but he would do in a pinch. And strategic pinches might not be
such a bad idea. Brian chuckled to himself. He was starting to feel … better.
The man took his beer and looked Brian up and down. “You’re stoned, man,” he
said.
“So what?” Brian asked. “I’m still better than anything elsh you’ll find in this
dump.”
“So I’ve heard,” the guy replied. This Kinney guy might prove interesting. He
had certainly heard about him by reputation. “I’m Derek.”
“Know your way to the backroom, Derek?” Brian asked with a lascivious grin.
“I think I can find my way. How about you?”
Brian laughed. He went to take a step forward and felt the world tilt to the
right. “I think I could use some help to find my way after all,” Brian said
unsteadily.
“My pleasure,” Derek replied.
“It will be.”
Staggering as little as possible, Brian was able to make his way down the
stairs, as long as he leaned heavily on Derek’s surprisingly strong shoulders.
They headed for the backroom.
“Jus a minute,” Brian said pulling out his cell phone. He hit number one on the
speed dial. It went to voicemail. “Too late, Shunshine, this was your last
chance.” He snapped the phone shut. “Lez go,” he said to Derek.
*****
“Where could he be?” Justin asked in frustration as he scanned the dance floor
of Babylon one more time. “Fuck! The backroom!” he answered his own question.
Pushing through the sweaty bodies Justin headed for the backroom. He made his
way through the chains, said the obligatory hello to Todd and headed for Brian’s
favorite spot. He couldn’t help but feel relief when he didn’t find his partner
there. But that still didn’t answer the question of where Brian Kinney had
gotten to.
“There’s a great show going on over there,” some guy said to Justin as he headed
in the direction he had indicated.
Justin had a sinking feeling on the pit of his stomach as he followed the man.
Sure enough Brian Kinney was lying on his back on a bench with some guy’s mouth
wrapped around his dick. Two guys were sucking on Brian’s nipples, one attached
to each. A crowd watched as the tableau played out before them. Another man was
kneeling at the end of the bench, his head between Brian’s legs sucking his
balls or rimming him or something. But most disturbing was the blond who was
kissing Brian in ways that only Justin had been able to for the last months
since their “rules” had been instigated.
“Brian,” Justin said but it came out a mere whisper.
A hand rested gently on Justin’s shoulder. “What do you want to do?” the voice
attached to the hand asked.
“I want this to stop.”
“Then stop it.”
Justin drew in a deep breath. “Get away from him – NOW!” he stated in a loud
voice.
“Fuck off,” one of the men working on Brian said.
Brian’s head turned and his eyes tried to focus. “Shunshine,” he said softly a
smile curling his lips.
“Shut the fuck up!” Justin ordered. “Get off him!” he repeated.
“You heard the man,” Ben said forcefully as he pushed his way through the crowd
of men. “Fuck off – all of you!”
The men servicing Brian looked up. The blond was one thing but this guy was
another.
“He asked for it,” one of the men spat out, but they all backed away as Ben
reached Brian’s side.
“Show’s over,” Ben said. He picked up Brian’s jeans from the floor and handed
them to Justin. “He’s going to need help by the looks of him.”
“Yeah, and that’s just until he sobers up. Then he’s going to need much more
when I kill him,” Justin vowed as he shoved Brian’s feet into the legs of the
jeans. “Sit up,” Justin ordered. Brian tried but almost fell off the bench.
“Here,” Ben said, grabbing Brian’s shoulder.
“I got the other side,” Michael said as they hoisted Brian to a sitting
position.
“Shunshine, you brought everybody,” Brian cooed.
“Luckily I brought help, you asshole,” Justin retorted.
Ben and Michael got Brian standing so Justin could pull his jeans up and do up a
couple of buttons.
“Let’s get him out of here,” Justin said, glancing around. Most of the men had
found new activities now that the Brian Kinney show was over.
“What took you so long, Shunshine?” Brian asked with a grin. “I waited and
waited.”
“Apparently not long enough,” Justin said sarcastically.
They managed to get Brian into Debbie’s car. Michael was driving and Justin sat
in the back with Brian.
“Suck me off,” Brian said with a smile at his lover. He started to massage his
aching dick.
“Dream on, asshole,” Justin retorted. He slapped Brian’s hand away from his
crotch. He wasn’t ready to let this go yet, especially the kiss.
“You wouldn’t ansher your phone,” Brian said petulantly.
“So you found other amusement. Very resourceful of you,” Justin replied with all
the sarcasm he could muster.
“I wanted you.”
“You may get me … in about a week, if I let you live that long,” Justin said.
There had to be retribution.
“Don’t be mean,” Brian whispered against Justin’s ear. He gave it a lick hoping
for the desired response. The only response was Justin pushing him away.
“I have barely begun,” Justin added, hoping that Brian would clue in to just how
angry he was.
Those words sounded vaguely familiar to Brian. He could fell that he was
starting to sober up … and suddenly he knew he was in deep shit.
“Sunshine,” he whispered.
“Don’t Sunshine me!”
“Anita gave me this shit…”
“You mean you bought some shit.”
Brian nodded. “I was tripping.”
“And that makes it all okay?”
“I…”
“Don’t even try to explain,” Justin said crossing his arms on his chest.
Ben and Michael listened, trying not to laugh at the mighty Brian Kinney who was
in the proverbial doghouse.
The car came to a stop.
“Are we home?” Brian asked.
“Yes,” was the terse reply. “Can you walk?”
“Unfortunately I believe I can. I’m becoming quite sober,” Brian said with
regret. His head was starting to pound.
The trip up was always followed by the trip down. He had conveniently forgotten
about that. Fuck! And he was in big shit on top of it. Such was life, Brian
reminded himself as he got out of the car.
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