The List

Part 7

Brian's Competition

Justin’s smile as Brian entered the diner made the extra walk in the frigid Pittsburgh winter wind and his adventures in origami totally worthwhile.

Emmett, Michael, and Blake were still there and he joined them.

“So?” asked Michael.

Brian knew exactly what he was asking.

“They wouldn’t replace him with someone else. So I conceded, gave Brandon the victory and though he didn’t exactly say so, I’m hoping that once he thinks about it, that will be the end of it,”

“You conceded?” Emmett was flabbergasted and from the look on the others’ faces, he was not the only one.

“What else was I going to do? He should never have been on that list,” said Brian. “I certainly wasn’t going to fuck him under these conditions and I definitely don’t want Brandon to fuck him. It was just a stupid contest.”

The fact that Brian had added “under these conditions” to not wanting to fuck Sunshine or that he definitely did not want Brandon to do so totally escaped him, but did not fall on deaf ears. And because he was too busy following the blond waiter with his eyes, he didn’t notice Emmett’s raised eyebrow or Blake’s smirk as his three friends exchanged significant looks.

Sunshine was delivering a stack of pancakes to a guy with longish curly hair who was sitting at the counter. Justin was chatting with him animatedly as he was pouring him coffee. The guy must have made a joke because Sunshine laughed, his eyes sparkling. He stayed, chatting a few more minutes with the man, a smile on his lips. Brian noticed the violin case at the base of the man’s stool. It was that street fiddler, the one with the silly little soul patch of a beard. He wondered how they knew each other, and how well…

When Justin came to pour Brian some coffee and to ask if he wanted his egg white omelet, or a glass of juice, Sunshine was just as friendly as he had been with the fiddler. But then, without giving it a thought, he reached for Brian’s lapel, removed a piece of black thread that must have come off of Brian’s cashmere scarf and he carelessly wound it around his index finger with his thumb as he talked. As he suddenly realized what he’d done, he blushed crimson and as soon as Brian answered that he only wanted coffee, Sunshine bustled away.

Brian was relieved none of the others had noticed the byplay, because for some reason, it left him with his heart beating hard against his chest. It had been such a casual thing, so insignificant, yet somehow it seemed momentous to him, and judging from the blush still present on Justin’s cheeks as his eyes briefly met Brian’s while bringing food to the next table, it felt that way to him as well.

Brian did not stay long at the diner. He had a meeting to prepare for, and then back to back presentations in the afternoon. A couple of times during that day, the memory of Sunshine’s gesture returned. He did not understand why his mind could not let go of it. He had rubbed cocks with the man at Babylon, had given him a shoulder rub at Deb's and had held him in his arms, all of which were so much more erotic, weren’t they? So why had that simple gesture felt so intimate?
 

********
 

At lunch (back to turkey on whole wheat, no mayo, but with a small side salad), they talked about that Friday night, about how fun it had been. The next evening Justin had off happened to be the night of the King of Babylon contest, and Brian’s stories, as well as those Emmett had already told him, easily convinced Justin to join the gang again at Babylon.

“Why don’t you invite your friend, too?”

“My friend? Which friend?”

“The young violinist you were talking to this morning. I assume he goes to PIFA as well? In the music department?”

Justin blushed. “Oh! Ethan. Yes, he’s in his second year. He is really gifted. I… I’m not sure he is into the club scene. He’s so… romantic.”

Brian smiled. “Romantic, eh?” He put his tongue in his cheek. “Is he trying to romance you, Sunshine?”

Justin was now bright red. He looked up at Brian, an unspoken plea for him to stop teasing visible in his blue eyes. “He has asked me to come and have dinner with him at his place some evening, though he warned me we’d have to have a picnic on his floor, because he doesn’t have a table. He said he’d play for me…”

“It sounds a hell of a lot more romantic than Babylon, that’s for sure,” admitted Brian. He added, kindly, “Maybe you should say yes, Justin. He seems like a nice guy. He has a great smile. I bet he believes in love. I bet he’s the kind of person who would make love, not fuck. Someone who would never go to the backroom of a club with a trick…”

Justin appeared relieved that Brian was no longer teasing. He looked at him, his face completely open and honest as usual. “I don’t think you have to have a picnic on the floor by candlelight, or you have to serenade someone to love them. I mean, a little romance is nice, sure, but… he’s kind of a cheeseball. It’s all too much, you know? He was telling me he thinks of me as his muse. We’ve known each other like…two months.” Justin giggled, embarrassed.

He went on, “I look at Ted and Blake, or Michael and Ben, and I can see they’re in love. I bet they have their romantic moments. But they’re still able to appreciate plebeian activities like dancing at a club or playing pool. It’s not all walking on the beach looking in each other’s eyes, right? I think being with someone like Ethan might be… suffocating. God forbid you’d feel like smoking pot together instead of feeding each other grapes…I want love, but I want to live in the real world. People do fart in bed, you know?”

Brian looked at him, not knowing what to say. He’d thought the kid was full of silly notions, just because he’d said he felt sex and love should go together. He felt like an ass. They might disagree on that point, but Justin was not just some starry-eyed little twink. He was smart and realistic. His maturity went far beyond his years.

Justin saw that guy, Ian, very clearly and saw the flaws in his approach. It occurred to Brian that he himself, with his rules and his set views about love and relationships was the exact opposite of Ian, but that both of them saw the world in black and white. Did Justin see him just as clearly? Was Brian, in his own way, just as one dimensional as Ian?

“Maybe I’m being too judgmental,” said Justin. “Maybe Ethan would love going to Babylon for the King of Babylon Contest. I shouldn’t pigeonhole him just because he sometimes acts like a dweeb. I’ll ask him, OK?”

“You’re right. He may surprise you.” Brian wasn’t sure he was talking about Ethan (not Ian!) or about himself. He looked at Justin, at how beautiful he was. He thought about how much he enjoyed talking with him, playing pool with him, dancing with him. And that because he enjoyed all these things with him, because of the rules he lived by, he couldn’t fuck him. Because fucking him meant never seeing him again, no matter how good it might be. And how stupid was that? Shit. He should stop hanging out with Justin. This damn kid was fucking with his head. He knew what worked for him, what had worked for years. He had to get out of here.

Brian looked at the diner’s clock. He really had to get out of here and head back to the office. He had the Kendrick presentation in forty-five minutes. “I have to get back to work, Sunshine.”

“Wait, I have something for you!” Justin disappeared into the corridor that led to the kitchen, the bathroom and the staff lockers and was back in a flash with a messenger bag. He took out a folder and looking both happy and shy; he handed it to Brian.

Brian opened the folder. In it was a sketch of a sleeping Gus, his beautiful face completely relaxed, his hands in little fists that recalled how close he still was to babyhood, and another of him just waking, with that amazing light that always shone from within on his face, a slight smile showing his baby teeth. Brian looked at them for a long time. They had obviously been done very recently, as his Sonnyboy looked exactly as he had just last Saturday.

Strangely, Brian had but few pictures of his son. Only one taken by Mikey, the night the boy was born and a couple of preschool portraits.

The sketches were so beautiful and the gift so unexpected, Brian did not know what to say.

“Do you like them?” asked Justin, looking a bit worried.

“I… I love them. Thank you so much.” And he did. He looked at Sunshine, and suddenly wanted to kiss him. It was not the first time, the kid had a gorgeous mouth, but this time, in was not, well at least not entirely, a sexual thing. Brian just wanted to express… something he was feeling and kissing Sunshine seemed like the most natural way to do so.

He swallowed hard. Kissing Justin, for whatever reason, was not appropriate. This was not Michael or Emmett, who knew that a kiss from Brian meant nothing. God only knew what the kid would read into it.

“I do.” He smiled, having finally found his footing. “I really love them. What’s the occasion?”

Justin took the origami bow tie, the origami shirt, and the origami elephant out of the front flat pocket of his bag. “These are so cool. They make my day. I just wanted to say thanks.”

Brian chuckled, and soon Sunshine was chuckling with him. They looked at each other for a while, smiling. The moment was broken by a voice Brian knew well.

“Hey, Justin. You ready?”

Justin looked up and he blushed a little, as if he were excited but trying to not be obvious about it. “Yeah. I’m good.” Well bred, he remembered to make introductions. “Brandon, this is Brian Kinney. Brian, this is Brandon Parks. He volunteers with me at the hospice. He gives me a ride there and back so I don’t have to take the bus,” explained Justin, putting the strap of his bag over his neck and shoulder. He gave Brandon one of his Sunshine smiles, evidently quite happy to see him.

“Brian and I know each other, Justin,” said Brandon, smiling at Brian. “We both work for Vangard.”

“Oh, right, of course, I didn’t even think of that!” He laughed lightly, looking warmly at Brandon, who was dressed in jeans and a Yale Rowing Team T-shirt. “You’re always so laid back and easy going, I think of you as a student or something.

Brian is always so focused, and professional looking.” He smiled at Brian, having meant it as a compliment. To Brian, it only meant that Brandon had done a good job appearing young, friendly and approachable. At least half way there indeed. Suddenly, his sandwich was weighing on his stomach or something. It was quite an unpleasant sensation.

“How long have you volunteered at the Vic Grassi House, Brandon?” asked Brian, already knowing the answer.

“Just a couple of weeks and just for two to three hours, twice a week, but you know, every little bit helps…” said Brandon. How could Justin, who could read Ethan, no wait, Ian, so clearly not see through this bullshit?

“Too bad that with the changes in assignments we discussed yesterday, you’re going to have to quit,” said Brian, pointedly. He was hoping Brandon was giving Justin a ride today because it had been too late to cancel and was going to explain to the boy that he would no longer be able to continue his volunteer work.

“Nah, I’ve thought about it and it just wouldn’t be right, you know. I’ll make it work. To be a true winner in life, you should always finish what you start…” explained Brandon.

That fucking asshole. It didn’t matter that Brian had conceded. Brandon was obviously going to pursue this anyway. And Justin… Maybe Brian could redirect Brandon’s priorities. “That’s why I thought you would concentrate on the Hanson case, right now. You didn’t finish that one. Maybe you should concentrate in that area, finish that job, before tackling volunteerism…” suggested Brian, his voice calm, his body relaxed, nothing betraying his inner rage.

“I think the Hanson case is going to take a long time. It’s on my ‘to do’ list, but I know how difficult it will be. I can’t let it prevent me from clearing other things from my agenda, things that will not take much time or effort.”

That will not take much time or effort? Fuck!

Justin was patiently waiting for them to be finished. It sounded to him like they were speaking about work.

“Don’t you have Kendrick this afternoon?” asked Brandon, looking at his watch significantly. “Let’s go, Sunshine!”

“Later, Brian,” said Justin, smiling warmly at him.

“Later,” answered Brian, forcing himself to smile back, without showing any of his chaotic feelings.

Brian did have to hurry if he wanted to be on time. He grabbed the folder containing Gus’s portraits and left.
 

***********

Because he had rehearsed them to death and because he was actually thrilled to have something work related to focus on, Brian nailed both of that afternoon’s presentations. The Conrad’s Purifiers account was OK, it was a small but solid company, and would probably be a very loyal small client, but of course, Kendrick’s was the crown jewel. With an advertising budget of over a million dollars, they were almost as great a coup as Brown Athletics. And the best part was that since Brian was now a partner, they were his clients to take if he ever left Vangard. Brian’s dream of one day opening his own agency was still alive and well, even after the Stockwell campaign fiasco.

Before leaving the office, Brian also cold called Taylor Electronics, asking to speak to the person in charge of advertising. He’d checked on the web, and it turned out that despite their absolutely hideous and flawed advertising, they had grown to a five-store chain in Pennsylvania. With the right image in the right places, the sky was the limit. He was surprised when he was connected to Craig Taylor himself.

Brian was brutally honest with the man, telling him that he had seen their ad in the phone book and that it was one of the most pathetic attempts at a corporate image that he had ever seen. He told him Vangard (and the man already knew, thank god, that it was the most successful advertising agency in Pittsburgh) usually dealt with larger clients, but that he had a feeling that since they had done so well with their paltry image, they could really kick ass with the right one and eventually grow to the size of the companies Vangard usually dealt with, as long as Mr. Taylor realized that you had to spend money to make money, that is. When he hung up, he had an appointment with Craig Taylor for the following week. Now his day was over.

He was heading home when, on impulse, he called Michael and Ben to see if he could come for dinner. After driving him nuts by asking him if he had been fired, if he had a terminal illness or worse, Michael finally had to accept that Brian just wanted to have dinner with him and Ben. Then he had to put up with Mikey gushing about it and almost called the whole thing off. Finally, it was agreed he should be there in a half hour and bring the wine.

Of course, as soon as he hung up, Brian wanted to call back and cancel. Fuck. What the fuck was he doing?

At the loft, he changed out of his designer suit into his designer jeans, his designer long sleeve Tee and his designer leather jacket. He grabbed a bottle of Oregon pinot noir from his temperature controlled wine cabinet and headed out to the Novotny-Bruckners.

Ben and Michael’s apartment was just off Liberty Avenue, in the center of the gay ghetto. They had made some noise about moving to the ‘burbs, but had changed their minds when it became obvious that Michael‘s dream of 50% custody of Jenny Rebecca had been a fantasy. Just like Brian, he babysat his child any time the Munchers needed it, and he had JR on Saturdays. Ben and he also had dinner at Mel and Lindz’ every Wednesday night, but JR was first and foremost the Munchers’ daughter.

Michael and Ben owned their place and had done a major remodel after deciding to remain, insulating from the noisy neighborhood with special wallboard, triple pane windows and air conditioning for the summer. They had also gutted the whole place, sacrificing the guest room to increase the size of their modern kitchen and luxurious bathroom. Though their taste did lean more toward colorful Danish modern and not to the expensive Italian white and chrome refrigerator look, Brian had to admit their home was beautiful, warm, welcoming and functional.

In his honor Ben was cooking Thai - which only took about fifteen minutes - during which time they enlisted Brian’s help in setting the table (unbelievable!), before they were all seated and eating a very respectable spicy chicken soup.

They decided the soup would kill the pinot and so they kept it for a sipping wine after dinner.

As soon as he’d come in, Brian had had the feeling Ben knew exactly why he was there but as he would have expected, the big guy left the decision to him as to how he would broach the topic. Michael would have been happy to just enjoy Brian’s company and chat about inconsequential matters all evening. But Brian had taken the step to call them. He might as well die a slow death and talk.

“I saw Brandon today at the diner. He came to get Sunshine to give him a ride to the hospice. Justin volunteers there three hours a day, every day. Apparently two weeks ago, Brandon started volunteering two hours twice a week, and on those days, he gives Sunshine a ride.”

“What were you doing at the diner?” asked Michael.

Brian had to smile. How did that man’s brain work? This was the question he had after hearing what Brian said?

“I had lunch there.”

“Oh! You should have come and got me! We could have had lunch together!”

Brian was reminded of why he loved Michael. Michael would have been happy to share a second meal with Brian at the greasy spoon that day, because it would have meant being together and that’s what mattered to him: friends, family, being there for the people he loved.

“Michael, why don’t you let Brian continue?” said Ben. “We can ask questions when he’s done.” It sounded just like something Professor Bruckner would tell a student interrupting a guest lecturer. Brian smiled inwardly.

“Brandon made it clear to me that he does not recognize my concession. He wants to win fair and square, even if it means breaking a kid’s heart to take his virginity; even if it means getting on my bad side and suffering the consequences. He’s a player. He wants to finish the game.” He was pissed at Brandon, but at the same time, he was honest enough to admit to himself that if their positions had been reversed, he would probably have done the same.

“Just tell Justin about the list,” said Michael. “Then he’ll know what Brandon is up to and not fall for his bullshit.”

“I can’t, Michael. I gave my word,” said Brian. He knew Michael would respect that. Brian‘s word was solid gold. He would never go back on it.

“Even if Brian had not given his word,” said Ben, with a nod to Brian that showed he recognized what that meant, “it might not have been so simple, Michael.” He explained. “First, hearing that Brandon has developed a friendship with him for the sole purpose of bedding him for a bet would be bound to hurt Justin. Next, it would mean that Brian would have to admit to Justin of taking part in a rather… callous game, which would reflect poorly on him. Then, it might put in question, in Justin’s mind at least, the truthfulness of Brian’s intent in befriending him as well, and finally, since we were all aware of Brian’s competition, he might question all of our sincerity in seeking his friendship.”

“OK,” said Michael. “Well, I think that would all be bullshit. To start with, it would hurt Justin a lot less to learn that Brandon is a weasel now than it would after the slime ball pops his cherry. Next, why should Brian give a shit what the twink thinks of his… what did you call it? Callousness? Finally, Brian hardly knows him and we didn’t even know his stupid name until yesterday, for god sake! Obviously we all like him because we like him, not because we’re trying to get him to get fucked by Brian! But it’s a moot point. If Brian gave his word, there is nothing he can do.”

Michael was right. Mostly. For some unknown reason, Brian wanted his best friend to know how things really stood between him and Sunshine. “I… I’ve been having lunch with Justin every day, Mikey, and I’m teaching him to play pool.” He rolled in his lips, incapable of saying more, hell, incapable of thinking more…

“Oh? Oooh. Wow. Do you like, … like him? Like, really like him? Like… Well, fuck me, Brian. What the fuck?”

Ben laughed at his husband. “It amazes me how you can be so articulate one minute, and completely incoherent the next…”

“Hey,” said Michael, frowning. “I’m in shock here. Brian Fucking Kinney, who does not date, has been having lunch dates every day with someone. Brian Fucking Kinney, who does not do boyfriends, likes this someone, and might even, heaven help us, want to have some kind of a relationship with him. Brian Fucking Kinney, who does not believe in love but only believes in fucking, seems to have been considering the first while completely neglecting the second. I believe I am entitled to some momentary mumbling!”

Boyfriend? Relationship? Love? How the fuck had Mikey jumped to that from a couple of lunches and a few games of pool? His imagination was really out of control. Must be all the comics he was reading… On the other hand one part of his rant was 100% right. It was about fucking time that Brian remembered that Brian Kinney did not date, did not do boyfriends and did not believe in love, but only in fucking. Thank God, Mikey was here to remind him who the fuck he was…

And now that he thought about it, he had given his word he would not tell the tricks about the list, but he could still warn Sunshine about Brandon’s intentions, before it was too late. Michael was right about that as well. Better Justin find out the truth about Brandon’s feelings now than... after the fact.

Brian whipped out his phone and dialed Debbie’s number. “Debbie? Brian… No, I wasn’t fired…No! I’m not dying! For fuck’s sake it’s not like I never call!... Uh, I don’t remember… Ah! That time when I backed your car into a tree!... Yeah, 1987, I guess… OK, OK, you’ve made your point… I need Sunshine’s phone number… No, Debbie, he’s not in the fucking phone book, he only has a cell. Why do you think I’m calling you?... No, I’m not going to break his fucking heart… No! I’ve not fucked him! Can’t you just please give me the fucking kid’s phone number?... Thank you… Yes, got it… Yes, I can memorize seven digits. I am a fucking genius… Good night, love you too, Deb.”

Brian shook his head at Michael. “I tell you, it’s a wonder you turned out as well adjusted as you did. Your mother is a fucking harpy.”

Michael cracked up. Ben was watching Brian dialing Sunshine’s number. “I can warn him, Ben. About Brandon’s intentions. And I can make sure he is clear about mine as well.” Ben’s silence spoke volumes. Before pressing send, Brian acknowledged him. “Michael is right, Ben. I… I can’t pretend to be someone I’m not.”

“It is not like you to color the truth, Brian. Pretending? I think not. We all change, grow. It’s the human condition, and regardless of what the fags of Pittsburgh think, you are human. You like this young man. There is a potential there for something meaningful. Why don’t you pursue it?” asked Ben. “Now would be a good time. Sunshine’s awfully close to falling in love, you know.”

“Falling in love?” asked Brian. Shit. Who was the twat falling in love with? Brandon! The fiddler? Fuck! “What are you talking about?”

Ben raised his eyebrows at him, as if he was a particularly dense student. “Brian! Falling in love with you of course. And hoping against all hope that you will notice and care about him enough to meet him halfway…”

Brian looked at Ben without seeing him. Sunshine? Falling in love with him? Ben was out of his mind. Annoyingly, Brian’s heart started beating so strongly it was obvious it was trying to get out of his chest, possibly through his throat. Beautiful, sweet, smart, funny, owner-of-the-best-ass-in-Pittsburgh Sunshine, in love with him? Ah, stupid, stupid twink. Fuck.

“One more reason to nip this in the bud” said Brian. He pressed send and waited.
 

*********

“Justin Taylor.”

“Hey Sunshine.”

“Brian! You called! I wasn’t sure… I didn’t know if you would. I wasn’t even sure you’d see it.”

“See what?”

“My number, on the back of the drawing of Gus smiling. I wasn’t sure you’d see it.”

“Oh. I didn’t. I got your number from Debbie.”

Justin laughed. “I guess it doesn’t matter. You called. … Oh… but if you got my number from Debbie, you didn’t see my note! So why are you calling?”

“What does it say?”

“What?”

“Justin, don’t play dumb. What does your note say?”

“…”

“I’ll see it for myself soon enough, you know…”

“It says… that I think about you sometimes in the evenings, and that if you do too, and you ever feel like it, you could always give me a call…”

Romantic fool. Stupid twink. Could Ben be right? Justin needed his expectations reset. “I don’t think about you, Sunshine. Why the fuck would I? In the evenings, I am usually at Babylon, fucking! You know this. It’s nicer to have company for lunch than to eat alone, that’s all. Get a grip. It means nothing.” Brian ignored Ben’s disappointed look as well as Michael’s resigned one.

“Oh… Well, I knew that, of course…” said Justin softly. “I just meant…Uh… Oh, never mind”

Justin sounded gutted. Ben had been right. Fucking Kid. Still, it was Brian’s own fucking fault. He thought he’d been clear about what the kid could expect of him, about how much of a promiscuous heartless asshole he was. Fuck! Brian hated the sound of the kid’s voice right now. He spoke like someone had just killed his puppy. And it was just about to get worse. Well, at least it would ensure the kid got over his infatuation real quick and could then find a more appropriate object for his ridiculous crush.

“Justin?”

“…Uh, Brian, I have to go…”

“In a minute. First you have to listen. Are you listening?”

“Oh… that’s right. You called. Yes, I’m listening.”

“Brandon has been bragging to me that he is halfway to fucking you. I’m afraid the only reason he is volunteering at the hospice is to get in your pants.”

There was silence at the other end for a moment. “First, what a shitty thing to say about your friend, and second, more to the point really, why the fuck should you care?” asked Justin finally. Brian hated how hurt and cold the kid sounded, but better that than having him… imagining things, reading into Brian’s attentions something that wasn’t there.

“I don’t care, Sunshine. I thought you should know the score so you can make an informed decision.” Michael looked at him and rolled his eyes. Ben was just looking down at his empty soup bowl, frowning.

“Why didn’t you tell me at lunch today?”

“I’d hoped Brandon was joking. When he came to pick you up, he made it abundantly clear that that was not the case. He wants your ass.”

“You don’t want him to hurt me by fucking me under false pretenses. Why?”

Brian sighed. “You’re a nice kid, Justin.” Fuck. He shouldn’t have said that.

“So you do give a shit.”

“… No! It’s just Debbie would kill me if…”

“Brian.”

“… Brandon shouldn’t get…”

"BRIAN!"

“What?”

“Listen. Are you listening? Now that I’ve gotten over the original shock of you being so fucking cruel and now that I remember the many stories I’ve heard about people being thrown off the Kinney cliff, let me tell you what I think. You are such an asshole. But not for the reasons you’d like me to believe… You do give a shit, you jerk. You know how I feel about sex and you don’t want to see me hurt.

“And I’m not stupid, you know. I know you could eat lunch anywhere, with Ted or Michael for company. But you choose to have lunch, everyday, with me. You’re an asshole for trying to pretend that you don’t care about me. It’s not working, Brian. I’m on to you. So… Thanks for warning me. Thanks for making origami with my tips, thanks for keeping me company during my lunch… And Brian, speaking of lunch. I’ll see you tomorrow. G’night.”

And Justin hung up.

“Well?” asked Michael.

Brian realized he’d just been staring at his phone, possibly with a little smile on his lips.

“Uh… I think he appreciated the warning. And he expects me for lunch tomorrow.”

He looked up at his friends who were both sporting stupid grins.

“What?” he asked, giving them both the patented Kinney scowl. But the effect must have been spoiled when he too started to grin, because they just started chuckling. Annoying jackasses. “Oh, Fuck off!” he told them, but his heart wasn’t in it, and they just chuckled harder.
 

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