“You look like hell, sweetie.” Deb slapped the menu in front of Emmett with one hand while she slapped the other on the tall queen’s forehead to check for a fever. He batted at it ineffectually; he wasn’t at his best but even if he were, it took a better man than him to get the better of Deb. He just moaned and leaned back against the booth seat. The light hurt his eyes so he quickly moved his head down to his hands, resting his elbows on the table.
“You’re burning up! You need some chicken soup and something to clear out that phlegm I can hear in your....”
“Deb, please, I’m trying to eat here. Can’t you play Florence Nightingale somewhere else?” Brian looked up from the ad layout he was examining. “Emmett, go home, go to a doctor, go wherever you need to, but get your sick ass out of here.”
Emmett raised bleary eyes up from where he’d been hiding them with his hands.
“I can’t. I have to go over to the shop to pick up a cake I baked yesterday and then over to the Vic Grassi House to see old Will and then....”
Emmett probably would have kept on explaining why he couldn’t take a break but he was overcome by a coughing fit. Michael and Ben edged a little further away while Ted poured him a glass of water from the pitcher on the table and silently offered it to his friend. Emmett gratefully accepted it, drinking it down in one gulp.
“Get one of these friends of yours to do it,” Deb said, casting a beady eye around the booth at the gang. Brian’s attention was firmly on his work – he wasn’t ignoring her so much as he was truly not paying any attention to any of them. Michael was a different story – his slightly red ears tipped her off.
“Michael Charles Novotny! Why aren’t you helping poor Emmett out? He needs to go home to bed and nurse whatever the hell it is he has, the flu, or a cold or....”
“The plague,” Brian interjected, turning a page in the report he was studying intently.
“I have plans, Ma! I’d love to help Em out but this afternoon just won’t work for me. I’ve got an important business meeting that I just can’t miss,” Michael told her quickly.
Brian looked up again from his paperwork, his eyes narrowed much like Debbie’s were.
She asked suspiciously, “What kind of business meeting?” even as Brian drawled, “Tell us, Mikey, where is this important meeting?”
The flush spread from Michael’s ears to his neck and over his whole lower face. Brian suppressed a grin – he’d always loved how Mikey didn’t blush like a normal person but in sections. A little more and the top of his head would light up like a matchstick. The stammering was just as amusing but not as visually entertaining.
“I...I...well....”
Ben took pity on him. “Michael is attending a Comic Con this afternoon in order to promote his store. It is important that he be there to keep track of new trends in....” Ben’s voice trailed off in the face of Debbie’s expression.
“You then!” She stabbed her finger at her son-in-law. “You will go visit old Will at the Vic Grassi House, which, I shouldn’t need to remind you, was named for husband’s dear departed Uncle Vic, my brother, may he rest in peace!”
Ben looked uncomfortable. “I would love to go visit Will, Deb, and no one values the Vic Grassi House and the important work done there more than I do but I have a very important meeting with the Dean this afternoon and it can’t be canceled, so, much as I really wish I could help.....”
Brian turned his head and coughed, and while the noise that came from his throat sounded suspiciously similar to the word bullshit, when everyone turned in his direction all they saw was the ad man sipping water from his glass with his most innocent expression on his face, which was enough to convince Emmett if no one else that he had in fact said what they thought he said.
Brian was always at his most devious when he looked innocent. But Emmett wasn’t feeling up to figuring out what the Stud of Liberty was up to today. He really did feel like crap. He looked at Teddy.
“I don’t suppose you could....?”
Ted looked at his watch. “I wish I could, Em, but I have to head back to the office in twenty minutes. This is the first break I’ve been able to take all week.” Ted caught Brian’s eye on him and rushed to add, “Not that I’m complaining, not at all, in fact, I’m grateful for this lunch, which is more than I deserve, and ....”
“Oh for fuck’s sake!” Brian stood up. “I’ll go.”
Silence greeted that...generous, but unexpected...offer.
Debbie was the first one to break it.
“That’s sweet of you, honey, but Will is an old man, and kind of, well, boring. You don’t want to go. One of these clowns should go.” She looked at Ben and bit her lip. “No offense.”
Ben smiled faintly. “None taken. But actually, I think that’s a great idea. Will loves seeing handsome men and there are few more handsome than Mr. Kinney.”
Debbie, Michael and Ted nodded their agreement. Emmett thought about rolling his eyes but didn’t have the energy. Brian took him by the arm.
“Come on, Honeycutt, before you collapse over your lemon bar,” Brian said, flipping his shades into place with his free hand. “I’ll drop you off at your place after we pick up this cake.”
“You’re not really doing it, are you, Bri?” Michael looked up at him. “You hate visiting old people.”
“Yes, Mikey, I really am. And while I hate visiting old people, it’s not as bad as going to a Comic Con, and yet I’ve been known to do that for a friend. And anything is better than listening to the rest of you make excuses.”
**********
Before getting out of Brian’s ‘Vette, Emmett just had to ask one more time.
“Brian, you’re really going to visit old Will, right? You’re not just saying it to get me to go lay down?”
“Lie down, Honeycutt.”
“What?”
“You need to go lie down. Wait until you feel better before you do any laying.”
Emmett huffed out a laugh, which turned into a coughing spell. Brian shook his head and reached past him to open the door. “Go on, get out and take your germs with you. Difficult as it may be to believe, this isn’t a clever plot of mine to steal some old guy’s birthday cake. I’m having some trouble with an ad campaign. An hour or so away from the office is just what I need to clear my head. And I like to render Deb speechless once a decade – keeps her on her toes.”
Emmett laughed hoarsely. “Keep that up and your secret will get out that you’re really a big old softy deep down inside.”
Brian smirked. “Spread a nasty rumor like that, Honeycutt, that I’m ever anything other than the hardest of the hard and you’ll ....”
“No need to say anything more,” Emmett rushed to say. “I get the idea. Your secret is safe with me.” Emmett got out of the car and closed the door but then rapped on the window to get Brian to lower it before he drove away.
“What now?” Brian asked, feigning impatience – at least, Emmett thought he was feigning it.
“I just wanted to say...thanks, Brian.” Emmett smiled warmly, his reddened eyes tearing up, and this time it wasn’t from the cold. Brian waved his thanks off.
“Get to bed, Honeycutt – and believe me, those are not words you’ll ever hear me saying to you again.” Brian grinned and then, with a final wave, drove off toward the Vic Grassi house.
For all his cockiness with Emmett, a short while later, as he stood outside the pleasant two story house, cake in hand, Brian had second thoughts. Making cheery bedside calls to a sick or dying old man was not his forte. And old Will was a character. He knew of him – everyone who ever frequented Liberty Avenue did. In his day he had been as much a fixture as Mysterious Marilyn or Divina.
Or the Stud of Liberty Avenue.
Old Will used to hang out at Woody’s and chew the fat with anyone and everyone who would buy him a beer, offering advice and a listening ear. Brian wasn’t really sure his name was really Will – he was called that because his advice was interspersed with quotes from the famous American humorist Will Rodgers, whom he portrayed on stage, along with other similar characters such as Mark Twain and Ben Franklin – though he always came back to Will Rodgers.
As he got older, the line between reality and theater blurred until no one could remember the last time Old Will broke character.
It would be an incredibly tedious hour, listening to the old guy spout aphorisms in the guise of a folksy humorist from almost a hundred years ago. Still...Vic had loved this place. And Vic had never once failed to make time for Brian, never forgot his birthday, even when he was away at school and Vic was a stud living it up in New York. Will had been a friend of Vic’s, even though he was much older than Vic –Vic had respect for the older gay men and taught Brian and Michael to be the same way, not that Brian ever showed it around the clubs. Such respect belonged to the really old queens, like Will, not aging gym bunnies who had no business squeezing into leather pants and sleeveless tank tops and pretending to be something they hadn’t been since the Village People last had a hit record.
Walking briskly, chin up, Brian entered the house and asked where he would find Will after signing in. He approved of the security – couldn’t be too careful in his opinion. Hate crimes against gays were still a reality, even in a place as seemingly peaceful and innocuous as the haven the Vic Grassi House provided from all that had been ugly in the residents’ lives, which for the most part had been lived in a world far more homophobic than now.
The fit young man sitting at the front desk gave Brian an appreciative look and directed him to the game room. Then, seeing the obvious cake container he was holding, offered to take it to the kitchen for him.
“I can have that placed on a serving platter and brought out whenever you want, Mr. Kinney, along with plates and forks for him to share with the other residents, with candles of course. That’s what Emmett always does. He keeps a cart with all the supplies. He had planned on being here himself with a cake for Old Will.”
The young man...his name tag said Jake...looked at Brian quizzically, but without the surprise that those who knew him showed whenever they saw him doing something nice. He looked to be about thirty, with a broad chest, wide shoulders, muscular arms, and an open, handsome face, with light brown hair that curled attractively around his ears..
A young Ben, with more humor to his expression, not quite so chiseled, wonder if he’s positive. Brian wondered, then chided himself for letting his thoughts wander down that path. He wasn’t looking for romance. Once bitten, twice shy and all that.
“Whatever Honeycutt usually does is fine. I’m not staying long,” he said tersely, then headed off toward the game room without a backward glance, oblivious to the disappointed look that followed him.
Will was surrounded by a group of admirers – even now, Brian couldn’t help thinking with a reluctant half smile lifting his lips. The man had to be in his late seventies at least and his disease, while held at bay for many years, had left its mark on what had once been a fine figure of a man. His tall, formerly husky frame was in a wheelchair now but he sat tall in it, and you would have thought it was a rocking chair on the porch of an old time saloon or bar they had back in the day, where the men would congregate and talk about daily happenings. Sit and bullshit, Brian’s old man would call it, but without any venom – in fact, it was his old man’s favorite part of the day. Talking bull with the men from the shop and putting down a few before going home to the Warden.
It was only when he put down more than a few that it was a problem.
Brian walked forward in time to hear Old Will tell the group, “The thing is, boys, you always want to drink upstream from the herd.”
Whatever the discussion had been that came before, that punchline got quite the laugh. Brian’s half-smile grew to a genuine full one, and it was enough to stop Old Will mid-routine. Few men were proof against the Kinney smile in full force, and Will was no exception.
“Boys, I do believe I have some special company. May I be excused for a spell while I visit with my guest?”
The others all understood the importance of a special guest – and particularly one who was a handsome man – so they quickly dispersed, though not without a few teasing remarks about Will’s good luck, and many lingering glances. Brian was generous with his smiles and winks – especially to those who looked the most frail and were yet the boldest. As Cynthia, his P.A. could have told anyone, he admired spunk and these men had a lot of it.
Will smiled at the byplay. Then he indicated an unoccupied alcove with a bay window.
“Shall we adjourn over to that lovely spot, young man, so that I may enjoy my visit? I can only guess that this is a birthday present from my friend Emmett. One of the many things no one tells you about aging is that it’s such a nice change from being young.”
Brian followed Will’s wheelchair over to the alcove and sat down opposite him before introducing himself – and responding to the comment.
“I don’t know if you remember me, Will. I’m Brian Kinney. Vic Grassi introduced us years ago. I was a good friend of his and he, well, he....” Brian shifted topics. “I can’t say as I agree with you...or the other Will. I have yet to see the up side of being over the hill.”
Will grinned delightedly. “Maybe you agree more with something else I’m fond of saying to the folks around here – which is that I don’t know how I got to be over the hill without ever getting to the top! But now that can’t be said about Brian Kinney – and yes, I do remember you, son. Cock of the walk is what Vic used to call you.”
Brian smiled in fond remembrance. “That was at least fift...maybe seven...well, quite a while ago.”
Will laughed out loud this time. “Trust me, Brian, you are still in the shank of life if you want to lie about your years. Eventually you will reach a point where you stop lying about your age and start bragging about it.”
Brian smiled – it would take a little more than the wisdom of Will Rogers to make him lose the stereotypical gay man’s fear of aging, though part of him admired Will’s attitude. To face old age and its attendant disabilities and indignities with humor and grace – it took more than spunk. It took courage. More courage than Brian thought he had. Emmett had that type of courage; it was one of the reasons Brian liked the southern man so much, not that he’d ever tell him so. Of course, Brian wasn’t one for telling the people he liked...or loved...how he felt. He was more one for showing, and he knew that Emmett knew that and also knew that Brian preferred that it remained unacknowledged.
Brian's expression had softened, which made him even more handsome. Will sighed inwardly. Then resolved to bring back another one of those devastatingly attractive smiles. Vic’s young friend was much too serious for such a good-looking young fellow. He looked out at the garden visible from the bay window in front of them – the residents who felt strong enough and so inclined grew both vegetables for their meals and flowers for their rooms.
“You’re a beautiful man, Brian Kinney. Vic used to say you were one of the blessed ones – no matter what hard times you went through, they just seemed to make you even more beautiful. Maybe it makes sense for someone like you to turn back the odometer – no one would ever guess your real age, but I can’t help thinking that it’s also a shame that foolish people might not realize without obvious signs what type of pain you’ve overcome. Now me, I don’t want to turn back the odometer. I want people to know ‘why’ I look this way. I’ve traveled a long way, and some of the road wasn’t paved.”
Brian’s smile was rueful. “I can tell you, some of the roads I’ve traveled were pretty rocky too, regardless of whether it shows on my face....not that I’d prefer that it did,” he rushed to add. “But what I don’t get is how you manage to stay so cheerful about...well...about all of this.” Brian waved his hand vaguely, meaning to indicate all of it, the home, the illness, the wheelchair, let Will pick whatever meaning he wanted, all of it or some of it.
A flash of something very sharp appeared in the old blue eyes; it struck Brian that Old Will wasn’t playing a part at all – not only did he truly believe in the borrowed wisdom of Will Rogers, but he was far from the old guy suffering from dementia that the common wisdom on Liberty Avenue claimed. Which just went to prove that there was no such thing as wisdom of any sort on Liberty Avenue, he told himself – common or otherwise. No wonder Old Will had turned to a more reliable source. And no wonder he’d been so popular.
“Brian, if you don’t learn to laugh at trouble, you won’t have anything to laugh at when you’re old. Trust me, there’s plenty to laugh at around here because, thank God, most of us learned to laugh at our problems long ago. The ones who didn’t – they don’t last long. Old age may be comfortable but it isn’t for wimps.”
Brian laughed out loud. “I’ll grant you that.”
Before the two men could continue their conversation, Jake, along with some of the other staff members and volunteers, wheeled in the cart with the beautifully decorated birthday cake that Emmett had made. Brian stood and helped Will bring his wheelchair over to the center of the room, where he was serenaded with the traditional song – sung enthusiastically if off key – and then a line formed for the slices of cake. Will asked Brian to wheel him back over to the alcove.
“That is, if you don’t mind, before slipping away. I do appreciate the time you’ve given already to brighten an old man’s birthday – it’s almost been better than I know that cake is going to be,” Will said, his eyes twinkling.
Brian had been planning on doing just that – slipping away discreetly as the cake was served – but now that he was given permission to do just that, he felt no inclination to do so.
“What! And not get my cake?” He stuck his tongue in his cheek. “Shouldn’t we be getting in line.
Will laughed. “At my age, fewer things seem worth getting in line for. But I suspect as the birthday boy, and the special guest, we will be spared the line and can get Jake to give us our slices without the wait.” He raised his voice just enough to project it to the handsome young man in question. “Aren’t there special privileges attendant to being the birthday boy – and to being the birthday boy’s guest, that get one out of waiting in line, Jake? Rather like being King of Babylon?”
Jake flashed a dimpled smile. “I do believe both rules apply in this case, Will. I will bring you both cake in just a second.”
Smiling at being remembered as a King of Babylon, Brian and Will were soon enjoying cake by the window, chatting like old friends. The afternoon flew. Brian found himself talking about the campaign that was giving him trouble – and getting some good ideas for it. And eventually, he even talked about Justin. And that was not something he did easily. Even now, over five years after... After the wedding that wasn’t. After his life fell apart. After his heart that had only just learned to open up to someone else got ripped open.
Just...after.
Will listened to the whole pathetic story, or what Brian considered a pathetic story, and sat quietly for a moment. Then he said, “You know, Brian. There are three kinds of men. Those who that learn from reading. Those that learn from observation. And...”
He paused.
“Well...?” Brian asked impatiently. “Something tells me you’re going to tell me I’m the third kind and it’s not going to be flattering.”
Will smiled. “The rest of us just have to pee on the electric fence and find out for ourselves.”
Brian stared at him for a long moment, then asked, “What the fuck does that mean?”
Will rolled his eyes. “It means that sometimes you need to risk the pain to find out what will happen. A lot of people misinterpret that saying – they think the smart ones are those who think they figure life out by sitting back and watching, or reading about it from a book, but hell boy, you got to go out and pee on the fence sometimes.”
“Which means,” Brian prompted, though he was beginning to see the light.
“Get yourself up to New York City and see if there are any sparks left with your artist. If there are, good, great, wonderful! If there aren’t, the fence isn’t electric anymore, then you come back here and you ask out handsome Jake. Either way, you win, seems to me. Only way you can lose is if you keep sitting back and just watching life, not living it.”
“Sounds like pretty smart advice when you put it like that.”
“I have a way with words,” Will conceded, smiling modestly.
“I’m beginning to think you do.” And Brian meant the Will sitting serenely before him, not the one who had died many years before. Reluctantly – far more so than he would have guessed when he had agreed to come – Brian stood to leave.
“It’s been a pleasure, Will. Happy birthday. I wish you good health and many happy returns,” Brian told him, bending down to kiss him lightly.
“Thank you, Brian. And may I wish you luck in your search?” Will said, reaching up and touching Brian’s cheek. “One must wait until evening to see how splendid the day has been. I trust that your ‘day’ with your artist has not yet reached evening, and it will end up being a splendid one after all –and I am seldom wrong about these things.”
Nodding only, his throat too tight to speak, Brian turned and left, walking as briskly as he had entered. But he had a new purpose to his step now – he had plans to make, a flight to book, a person to see – he was determined that his day would end well also.
It was what Will would do. He was sure of it.
“Understood,” Will nodded, smiling understandingly. “Sometimes you need to wait until the evening, son, to truly appreciate how splendid the day has been.
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