In His Kiss

Chapter 13

Justin’s week from hell.


Justin was extremely grateful for the use of Alan Curry’s treadmill and shower. It helped relieve his frustration. Every single day, while he tried to work on his idea for the Fuel campaign, which he thought could be really great, he had been interrupted and called upstairs for one reason or another.

He had brought up boards for campaigns, been sent up to take notes on necessary changes, had sat in on a couple of presentations for no apparent reason and had even been called to help Cynthia with some end of the year organizing, which she seemed to find highly amusing.

He had brought in coffee to clients in their initial meeting with Brian and had been called to help Julie take down her materials after she’d had a meeting with Brian regarding the next Brown Athletics campaign.

He had to admit that he had learned a few things about the advertizing business in the process, but this was definitely not why he had applied for the internship. He was here to work in the Art Department and learn about design.

He was utterly confused about Brian’s intentions in all this. Even when he came up to the business area of the firm, he hardly saw him, or talked to him. A few times Brian had asked his thoughts on matters he felt were utterly out of his area of expertise, and he had deflected the conversation rather than give a completely uninformed opinion.

He knew he had a nice ass, but he doubted that staring at it for a few minutes a day would give Brian enough incentive for him to manufacture the number of excuses he had used to make it possible.

Strangely enough, though he had absolutely dreaded seeing Brian again after the Essengy kissing debacle, he had not felt self-conscious about it. At no point had Brian alluded to it, or given him the all-knowing smile that so annoyed him, or even acted smug in anyway. In all their dealings, Brian acted in a perfectly professional manner.

Justin tried hard to hide his annoyance from Sam, feeling bad about having put him in an uncomfortable situation by not showing up for work on Tuesday. But by Friday afternoon, as he was once again being summoned upstairs just as Sam had asked how he was getting on with his Fuel project, Justin lost it.

“I’ve gotten nowhere, Sam.” He angrily balled up yet another aborted sketch. “I have an idea, and I think it has potential, but it seems I can’t work for more than half an hour at a time without interruption. I have to do coloring for other people’s projects, and both Jules and Randy like to show me stuff, and bounce ideas around with me, which is great. But now I’ve apparently become Mr. Kinney’s personal errand boy. I’ve been upstairs at least ten times this week. He’ll be sending me out to get his dry cleaning next…”

“You’d mention before you guys have some kind of history. Is that what this is all about?”

“…I think so.”

“But this is new, though. Since Thanksgiving, I’ve noticed. He never did this before, right?”

“Right…” Justin could feel himself blushing, and hated himself for it. “Something happened Monday night, after work. It just made things… worse. But his reaction seems so random. It makes no sense to me.” He looked at Sam but could not read him. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know he worked here when I applied for the internship, and it didn’t seem to have any negative consequences until now. I wish you didn’t have to deal with this. I’d perfectly understand if you felt you needed to get an intern who actually was able to do some work around here.”

He headed for the elevator, feeling disheartened. Sam was very nice, and he loved his work here. He was upset with himself for bringing up his issues with Brian to his own boss. It made him sound like such a wimp, making excuses for himself. And he could just imagine the kind of history Sam would speculate existed between Brian and him. Why had he opened his big mouth?

At least, in this case, the summons was art related, although since it was Randy’s project, which Justin had had nothing to do with aside from hand coloring the background, he had no clue why he had to be the one to report the changes Kinney deemed necessary.

He could feel Brian's gaze on his face and on his hands as he wrote down the new instructions. Worse yet, he could feel his hand starting to lose it. He had been sketching earlier and hand coloring. His hand needed a break. He tried to shake it out, pretending his pen was running out of ink. Without a word, Brian handed him another pen.

“Thanks.”

He was just praying there wasn’t much more. For the first time this week, he welcomed it when Brian interrupted his dictation with an apparent non sequitur.

“Have you painted anything new lately?”

In his relief and surprise, he made eye contact, something he had avoided as much as possible. Brian was looking at him seriously, as if he really was interested. He was so distractingly beautiful.

“No. Not since I started working here. I’m pretty busy. I’ve gone to the studio on the weekend when free studio time was available, but I’ve mostly been preparing canvases for future work. I’ve planned a few pieces on the computer, though.”

That was way more information than he had planned on giving, which he chalked up to the fact that he was busy discreetly massaging his cramping hand under the edge of the desk.

“Do you have any finished pieces?”

“A few, yes.”

“I’d love to see them.” Well, the man had bought one of his paintings before knowing it was his, so his interest was probably genuine. Still, Justin who had thought nothing of showing pictures of his work to Lindsay, or of showing the actual pieces to Sam, felt strangely shy about showing them to Brian. It was stupid. Brian was the one person who’d asked who might potentially be interested in actually buying a painting.

“I was going to show them to Sam next weekend. If you wanted, you’d be welcome to come along.”

Brian nodded. “Good.”

Then he went right back to dictating the changes he wanted on Randy’s project. Justin’s hand had had enough of a break for him to finish without problems. He was opening the door to leave when Brian said, “Have a nice weekend, Justin.”

Considering he had always called him “Taylor” at work, it sounded almost inappropriate. Yet when Justin looked at him, Brian's small smile seemed devoid of guile. He smiled back and said, “You too, Mr. Kinney.”

As he walked away, he couldn’t help but feel that it had been the wrong thing to say, as the small genuine smile had disappeared, replaced by an unreadable mask. He shrugged. As far as he knew, they were not friends. At work Brian was his boss, and at Essengy, well, he wasn’t sure how to qualify what they were there, but it was definitely not “friends”. He was at a complete loss to understand what was going on with Brian.

***

Justin tried hard to get Brian Kinney out of his mind that weekend. He spent Saturday and Sunday at the studio at Pratt, happy to hang out with Lilah again. That new boyfriend of hers was taking away all of their ‘hang out’ time. Justin could totally relate, but was glad Max was out of town for the weekend, so he could have his pal back.

He had planned on preparing more canvasses, but felt the need to paint. He worked all day Saturday on a 3X3 panel, not even one he had pre-planned on his computer. He painted quickly, the colors seemingly calling to each other, being more spontaneous than was his habit.

He had no idea where he was going, just getting the paint onto the canvas, while listening to Lilah’s music. And her gossip about school, classes, their roommates, and of course the wonderful Max. It was very cathartic.

They went out for pizza that night, followed by a movie, which he really liked. She teased him about being the only guy she could drag to a chick flick, and he told her that was one benefit of being a fag hag.

When they went back to the studio on Sunday, he fully expected to hate the painting he had started the day before, but as both he and Lilah stared at it, he realized it was really, really good.

“Justin, this is really, really good, you know?”

Justin laughed. “I was just thinking that.” Once again, he felt the colors calling to him.

“Are you going to finish it?”

“Yeah. I think so. “

He got out his brushes, his paints, his solvents, and realized he didn’t have the color he needed. He felt absolutely crushed.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck!”

“What?”

“I need cadmium. I don’t have any. I never use it. Fuck!”

“Calm down! I have some. She went to her cart, dug around awhile, went “Aha!” and threw him a tube that had definitely had better days.

He squeezed every last drop onto his easel, mixed it with white and light yellow to an apricot color he would have never thought would ever be in his repertoire, and applied it in small touches, highlighting all the darker colors on the canvas with it. To his relief, he had enough. He finished off with swirls of pure zinc oxide white, which made no sense but felt totally right.

Then it was done. Anything more would screw it up. He felt this huge relief. One did not always know when to stop, but this time, he had no doubt. The colors were so vibrant. Several shades of green, several shades of blue, some brown, and the apricot, and the white.

He walked away from it, cleaning all his supplies thoroughly, organizing his cart, listing what he needed to purchase for the next quarter, chatting the whole time with Lilah about her plans for winter break.

She was going skiing with her family in Vail, and Max was going to meet them there, being introduced to her folks for the first time. They were Jewish, and didn’t do Christmas. She could not believe she had a Jewish boyfriend. Her parents were in heaven, as were his. She thought it was funny, considering that, very strangely, she had not known he was Jewish for the longest time, seeing he was blond with blue eyes and spoke with a waspish Massachusetts accent, like the Kennedys.

Of course, with her red hair and her southern drawl, one did not immediately peg her for a member of the tribe either. It had been a very pleasant surprise all around, especially since she was pretty sure Max was The One.

For some reason he chose not to dwell on, this brought Brian to mind. Brian at Essengy, kissing him to orgasm, and Brian at the office, acting so strangely.

He had never spoken to Lilah about him. She was an amazing gossip, so he wasn’t about to now. Besides, in these situations, no matter how much he liked Lilah, he wanted to talk to Daphne. Before they left for the day, they both stood in front of his painting again.

“Can I have it?” asked Lilah.

“No way. I’m keeping this one. I love it.”

“Selfish bastard.”

They both laughed.

She looked at him seriously. “You know how incredibly good this is, right?”

“Yeah. It is good.”

“Will you remember me when you’re all famous?”

“Fuck no! Lilah who?”

She hit his arm playfully.

“You know, I can tell everybody I was there when you painted this, when they hang it at the Museum of Modern Art. I can tell everyone it’s MY cadmium.”

Justin laughed. “Cut the crap, Lilah! It’s good, but not that good.” He took it off the easel and carefully stored it in his cubby, the one that held his works in progress, giving it a chance to fully dry before putting it in his storage locker. As he was locking up, Lilah asked, “Why aren’t you taking it home?”

“A guy I work with has asked if he could see my pieces. I’ll be bringing them all back here so I don’t have to drag him to two locations.”

“Why does he want to see them? Is he a buyer?”

Justin had forgotten Brian had asked to come along with Sam. Once again, he chose not to mention him to Lilah.

“No, just my boss in the Art Department at Plexus. A really nice guy. You should try to do your internship there. I’ve learned a ton.”

“I applied. They turned me down. Didn’t even get an interview…”

“Oh. Sorry.”

“It’s OK. I’m interning at this little gallery in the fall. I think it will be fun. And frankly, I think my future is more in showing other people’s work. I’m not that good. So it will be perfect for me.”

Lilah was good. She just wasn’t great. She could copy any style, but didn’t seem to have her own. Justin withheld any comments.

“Where is the gallery?” he asked instead.

“In the village.”

“Wow. It should be fun!” Working in the village would certainly be that, and the galleries there were hip, and fun. Maybe Lilah had found her niche.

When they got home, there was homemade chili on the stove, with cornbread, and Ben and Jerry ice cream for dessert, probably dug out of some grocery store’s dumpster. He loved his house. He took his food to his bedroom and called Daphne, telling her last week’s woes.

“He’s driving me insane, Daph. I have no clue what’s going on.” Justin spooned more Cherry Garcia into his mouth.

“That is kind of weird.”

At least he could always count on her to see things his way.

“Yeah.”

“Maybe he’s confused too. Like you’re a puzzle and he’s trying to figure you out.”

“I’m not a puzzle. He knows I want him. He knows I totally get off on being with him. And he knows the only reason I won’t let him fuck me is because I want more than a one off. No mystery there…”

“But you did send him mixed signals. It’s ok for you to come while kissing him, and never have anything to do with him again, but it wouldn't be ok for you to come while he fucks your brains out and then never has anything to do with you again.”

“Well, I happen to think one is very different from the other. And I know he happens to think so too.”

“How do you know?”

“If we’d fucked on Monday, he would be avoiding me. He’s doing the opposite, and not just at work. He’s been at the club every night this week.”

“How do you know? You said you hadn’t gone!”

“I had a message on my machine last night, from Jeremy, the bouncer at Essengy. Brian has been there every night, and yesterday, he gave Jeremy a hundred bucks to call him on his cell phone next time I show up. How weird is that?”

“Maybe after Monday he feels you won’t be able to resist him next time.”

“But he knows that even if I was willing, he couldn’t fuck me! I work for him!”

“Maybe his prick is overriding his brain?”

“But that doesn’t explain the constant excuses he makes up at work for me to be around his office! He’s not making overtures, or crude remarks or even allusions to what happened. He is just totally professional.”

“Oh my God, Justin. Do you think he could be falling for you?”

Okay. So sometimes even Daphne was out of her depth.

“No, of course not. That’s ridiculous. Guys like him don’t fall for people. They don’t believe in love. They believe in fucking. The maximum pleasure with the minimum of fuss.”

“I think you’re wrong. I think he is falling for you. I think he is totally confused about how he feels, but he likes to have you around. It makes him feel good. And he doesn’t go to the club hoping to fuck you. He goes to the club hoping to kiss you. Hoping to make you come again in a manner that you don’t object too. Because it makes him happy to make you happy. I’m telling you, Justin. He is in love with you!”

“You are out of your mind.”

“That’s the only explanation that makes sense!”

“Yeah. Maybe if he was a 14 year-old straight girl! We are talking about a 30 year-old gay guy here, one that has been around the block quite a few times.”

“No he hasn’t! He has NEVER been around that block! When it comes to love, he has about as much experience as a 14 year-old straight girl!”

“The only person Brian Kinney is in love with is Brian Kinney. Believe me. You are completely off the mark on this one.”

“I think you should go to the club.”

“What???”

“I think you should go to the club and test my theory. Go there, dance, watch him show up and take you in his arms and kiss you, and not push for anything else. I’m telling you. He’ll choose making out with you over fucking some other guy.”

“You’re nuts.”

“Go. Go now!”

“It’s ten-thirty! It would be eleven-thirty by the time I got there!”

“How far is he from the club?”

“I’ve no idea.”

“You have to give it… an hour and a half. So by one, if he hasn’t shown, you can come home and be in bed by one-thirty. You can have six hours of sleep and still be at work on time. I’m hanging up. You’re going. Call me tomorrow, bye.”

Daphne was out of her mind.

There was no way Brian Kinney could be ‘falling for him.’ And he was in bed, and hadn’t showered today. But then again, if she was right, in a couple of hours, he could be in Brian’s arms, dancing, kissing and…

Justin was out of bed and in the shower in record time. He threw on his favorite jeans, going commando, and a shirt that wouldn’t be too bulky tucked in his belt.

He was lucky with his subway connection, and got to the club at eleven ten. Jeremy was at the door, and winked at him.

“Don’t worry, Justin. I’m not calling anybody.”

“Huh… Actually, I was kind of hoping you would.”

Jeremy looked at him as if he was crazy.

“I know it’s weird, but I need to know if he’ll show up.”

“O-Kay… No problem. I could use another hundred…”

“He’s going to pay you another hundred if you call him?“

“Yep.”

“And you were going to pass up on that? You’re a real pal, Jeremy. Thanks. I really appreciate it. Now, get on that phone and earn your cash!”

Jeremy laughed and dialed. He hung up.

“It went to voice mail…”

Great. Daphne and her great plans. For all he knew, Brian had left his phone at the office…

“Would you mind trying again and leaving a message?” Since he was here, he might as well stay and dance. Who knows? Brian might pick up his messages and show up anyway. Of course, if he didn’t, the entire experiment would have been for naught.

Jeremy shrugged and hit redial.

“Mr. Kinney? It’s Jeremy, from Essengy. Justin just showed up at the club. Just thought I’d let you know.”

Well, that was that…

“Thanks, Jeremy.”

“That wasn’t a message, Justin. He picked up. He sounded a little out of it, like he was sleeping, or high or something. He said thanks and hung up.”

“Oh. All right. Hey, thanks a lot. Really.”

“You’re welcome. Really.”

Justin laughed and made his way in.
 

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