The White Party

Chapter 3

Michael hurried into the suite he shared with Ben and, barely taking time to shut the door, went to the desk beside his bed, to get his cell phone.

"Ben, you won't believe who I just saw coming into the hotel," he exclaimed. "It was Justin! I need to call Brian."

"Brian is in a meeting with a client, remember," Ben tried to stop him.

Michael sat down on his side of the bed, his back to Ben. "It's too late; I bet he's back already." He pushed the buttons to turn on the phone. Then, a surprised expression on his face, he shook the device.

"And he needs to hear about Justin right now," Ben interrupted the shaking. "Care to tell me why?"

For the first time since he came back, Michael turned to look at Ben. The man was bare-chested, lying on his back in the bed, from waist down not quite covered with a white sheet, and with a hard-on tenting the fabric. Michael noticed none of that. "He doesn't like surprises; you know that," he pointed out, still flabbergasted with his phone gone haywire.

"And you're sure he doesn't already know?" Ben asked quietly. "If the late-comer really was Justin, it's hardly likely that Brian hasn't planned to meet him here, at the White Party."

"Brian would've told me," Michael snapped at his phone. Why wasn't the fucking thing turning on! "No, Justin is up to something, and whatever it is, Brian has the right to be warned."

"At least let it be for the time being. Tomorrow morning is soon enough," Ben suggested patiently.

"But, Justin could be heading into his suite, and if Brian is there with a trick, you know what a racket he can raise. He never understood that Brian has to get his needs met."

Michael put the phone against his ear, but there was nothing to hear. What's wrong with my phone? he wondered with exasperation.

"What about my needs, husband?" Ben said and wrapped one well-formed arm around Michael's middle. With a toothy grin, he pulled his spouse on top of him. "My needs are getting pretty serious," he purred pulling Michael into a passionate kiss.

A moment later, Michael couldn't quite remember why he had a phone in his hand. Ben smiled quietly, thinking about a certain SIM-card that was safely tucked into his wallet.
 

*****

As Michael was getting his ass well-rammed by Ben, on a balcony two stories above, Emmett was savoring his well-rammed ass on the soft cushion of a rattan chair. The night breeze tried to play with his sweaty hair. A blissful smile played on his slightly swollen lips.

Drew was sleeping, and Emmett let him rest without any reservations. His man had had a stressful week at work and been sleeping poorly. Still, for the entire evening, just until a few moments ago, he had been the same attentive lover Emmett had fallen in love with all those years ago. Sitting there, admiring the hazy moon above, Emmett couldn't have been one little bit happier.

Life was pretty perfect. Even the breeze was just the right combination of softness and coolness against his skin.

Perfect. He and Drew. Ted and Blake. Michael and Ben. Brian...

Brian. Not so perfect. For a while, it had seemed that his friend would find happiness with Justin. Even after Justin moved to New York it had seemed that he could still hold on to what he had found, but apparently not.

The happy smile withering, Emmett recalled a call from Justin about eight months ago.

"He didn't show up," Justin had complained. "The selfish bastard couldn't find the time to come to my opening night. He knows perfectly well for how long I've been coveting the chance to show my work at Cherrien and Barclay's. When I finally make it, when everything is set up and ready to go, when I've been enthusing about my fucking opening night to him for weeks, he just sends an email telling me that he isn't coming. A fucking email! 'Sorry, can't make it. Got a flight to catch. Later.' was all he had to say to me. He didn't even give me any reason. Damn him!"

Emmett had tried to calm Justin down. He had known that without a good reason Brian wouldn't have let Justin down like that, but Justin hadn't listened. He had been too pissed off, the bruise to his heart was too fresh.

"It's over! This time, it's over for good," Justin had cried and ended the call.

A week later, Justin had called and told Emmett about Darren Bradley, his new beau that he had met at the opening night of his show. Apparently, it really had been over with Brian.

Like with any other break up between the two, Brian denied feeling any hurt. Emmett had wanted to help his friend, but of course, Brian didn't want anything of the kind. He never wanted help. He didn't even admit to there being something wrong.

"I never expected him to come back," Brian had claimed. "After ten years, Emmett. Why would I be upset? Why would he come back? He is where he wants to be, where he needs to be."

Emmett didn't buy it, of course not. He knew that underneath the hard shell, Brian Kinney was a wounded man with a bleeding heart.

His complete opposite. Emmett had loved and stopped loving countless times before finding his perfect match in Drew. Brian had loved just once and had never stopped loving. He never would, but he also never would demand anything from his beloved. If Justin was happier with a fiddler, okay. He stepped aside. If Justin was happier in LA, okay. He carried his bags to the airport. If Justin hated his over the hill club-boy lifestyle, okay. He helped him move out. If Justin needed to be in New York, okay. He booked him a flight. And if Justin needed Darren Bradley to live happily ever after, okay. Brian Kinney wouldn't block his way to happiness. The selfish bastard.

About how to romance a man into believing he loved him above anything in life the man had no clue, but about how to love that man he could have given lessons.

Had given some, in fact. To him. Without his example, Emmett hadn't been able to let Drew go so that he could come back.

Undemanding, selfless love. The Kinney brand. Poor bastard. Emmett had decided that whether Mr. Kinney wanted help or not he was getting some. However, it had been hard to help someone who didn't welcome it. It had been a frustrating pursuit that had him wanting to scream and cry and scream again. As months went by, he made no chinks into his defenses. Brian was devastated, but Emmett found no way to help.

Not until he went with Michael to Babylon one night about a month ago. Every now and then, it was fun to relive his carefree youth with his former roommate. It was uncanny how both of them had ended up with total tops. In the privacy of his mind he called their nights the ladies night out, but not out loud. Michael wouldn't have appreciated the notion.

They had danced and drank and admired the beautiful boys. Fun, fun, fun. While Michael was engaged elsewhere, out of the blue, a familiar voice had greeted Emmett.

Justin! He had stared at the blue eyes of his artist friend. Unhappy blue eyes. "When did you get in town? Are you looking for Brian? Sorry to tell you: he's out of town."

"I know," Justin admitted without his signature smile. "I wouldn't be here otherwise."

For a second Emmett wondered how, then he knew. "You asked Ted."

Justin nodded, looked away, turned back. "What's wrong with me, Emmett? Why do I keep falling for men that can't keep it in their pants!"

"What are you talking about?"

"Darren. I'm speaking about my beloved boyfriend!"

"What's wrong? Justin?" He grabbed his arm as Justin was about to escape.

Tears glimmering in his eyes, he said, "He's been bonking his ex on the side. That fucking Brandon guy!"

"Brandon?" Was he supposed to know who he was referring to? Or... The Brandon?!

"The same fucking man," Justin growled.

And, suddenly, Emmett saw his opening. There was a way to help his friend. Both his friends, actually.

*****

Emmett relaxed back in his chair on the balcony, the memory bringing a smile to his face. This trip to the White Party had been his idea, the perfect place to reunite Pittsburgh’s own version of Romeo and Juliet. He had waited two days after Brian got back before he brought it up.

They’d been sitting in the diner eating breakfast after a night of hanging out at Babylon and Emmett just threw it out.

“So who is up for The White Party?”

Michael and Ben stopped talking, Ted nearly choked on his soup and Brian simply raised an eyebrow. It was Blake who spoke first.

“Isn’t that strictly for gay men who fuck around?”

Brian smirked and mumbled under his breath, “What’s wrong with that?”

Emmett ignored the mumbling and did his best to use his unique enthusiasm to convince the gang to go.

“We’ve never been to The White Party as a group. Hell only Brian and Ben have been that I know of. And Miami has always been a dream destination for me. Ever since Kourtney and Khloe took it, I’ve wanted to go. I’ve even bought my bikini for beach night.”

“I’m down,” Drew interrupted, hoping to stop Emmett from going off on that Kardashian shit again.

One by one they all agreed to go, with Brian of all people holding off until the last possible second.

Emmett was drawn out of the memory at the movement on the beach. Leaning forward he smiled when he saw Brandon retrieving the red hoodie. Emmett had found it in a box at Debbie’s and knew it would be the perfect way to start this whole plan. His smile widened when he caught a glimpse of Brian coming back into the hotel via the patio doors near the pool.

His plan was working and soon Justin would be back with the right Romeo.

*****

Justin snuck back into his own room fully aware that Brandon had just left. His cologne permeated every inch of the room and Darren was sprawled across the bed, facedown and snoring. This wasn’t going exactly the way he wanted. Maybe he shouldn’t have trusted Emmett to make this all work out.

Pulling off his t-shirt he avoided the bed and laid down on the couch completely unaware of what was going on a couple of floors above. He closed his eyes and thought back over dinner and Brian’s nod to him over that spoon of ice cream and he smiled. It was the last thing he thought of before sleep claimed him.

*****

Just a few floors above, Brian was thinking about the blonde he’d fallen in love with a lifetime ago. Fate had separated them more than once but it always threw them back together. Was he just going to let Justin walk out of his life again? Was he going to sit back and watch another man live the life he had planned with Justin?

He’d always done what he’d thought was right for Justin, but maybe it hadn't been right for Justin ... or himself. Maybe it was high time he got over this ‘Brian Kinney had to sacrifice everything’ crap he’d been doing for well over a decade now. What if this time he fought for Justin? Instead of letting him walk out of his life again, Brian could actually fight to keep him here.

He had just pulled the black ribbed tank top back over his head when there was a knock at the door.

“Justin,” he said aloud and hurried for the door. Throwing it open he was surprised to find Brandon there looking freshly fucked with a smug little smirk on his face.

“Game on, Kinney,” he said as he brushed past the taller man, sticking to the plan Emmett had cooked up.

Brian felt that tingle of his competitive nature tickling at his brain and he was close to forgetting about what he’d been about to do. He ran a hand through his dark hair that now had flecks of grey in it and thought about his next move. With a grin, he turned and left, Brandon staring after him.

Brian raced down the hall of the hotel and hit the down button on the elevator waiting only a few seconds before deciding the damn thing wasn’t moving fast enough for him. The stairs were only a few steps away and Brian ran down them at full speed stopping only when he’d reached the lobby.

He waited impatiently behind some late arrivals, cursing the older couple that were asking 50 million questions of the desk clerk. No one needed to know where the hell the nearest Waffle House was at three in the fucking morning unless they were stoned out of their minds and had just fucked the quarterback and wide receiver.

When they’d finally stopped asking for everything under the damn sun, Brian tapped on the counter and demanded to know what room Justin Taylor was in. The clerk informed him that no one by that name was on the guest list and was about to turn away when Brian inquired about Darren’s room. The young clerk shot him a knowing grin and gave him the room number.

“If you have any energy left when you’re done, I get off in an hour,” the clerk called after him as he ran back towards the stairs. Halfway up the six flights he stopped, breathless and questioning what he was doing.

He sat down on the steps and questioned his own self. “What are you doing, Kinney? He’s happy. Let him be happy.”

Maybe he should just let him be. Michael would remind him that he’d given Justin up years ago and should just get on with his life. But Michael didn’t believe that Brian could ever change. He thought that Brian should just keep on living his playboy lifestyle. If Brian were truthful, he knew that Michael had always believed that Justin was just a passing phase in Brian’s life.

But Michael had grown up and gotten married. The days of Mikey and Brian were over and wasn’t he entitled to happiness? Wasn’t he allowed to love someone?

Pulling himself up from the stairs he took them two at a time until he’d reached the sixth floor. He took his time down the hallway and stopped in front of the room the desk clerk had given him, realizing that Justin and Michael’s rooms were right next to each other.

He stood there in the dimly lit hall fighting with himself over which door to knock on. One would offer him safety and everything he was familiar with. The other would offer him love and a brand new life. With a deep breath he raised his hand and knocked.

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