Second Chances

For the third time, Justin woke to find himself slumped over his desk and keyboard. He looked with irritation at the computer monitor. He wanted to do more research, but it was nearly 3 AM and he couldn't fight sleep any longer. He threw himself still clothed on top of his single bed and went right back to sleep.

The alarm went off four hours later, taking him out of a dream about dancing at Babylon with Brian. At least it had looked like Babylon, but in the dream he had known they were in New York, dancing on a street with skyscrapers looming over them. The glitter coming down from the ceiling was really confetti thrown in their honor, and Brian had been singing in his ear.

Justin half-groaned and half-laughed: that would be the day, when Brian started singing love songs to him. He forced himself to sit up and reach for the phone. He wanted to catch Brian before he headed off to his morning meeting.

The phone was picked up on the first ring. "Hello?" a strange voice said.

Justin said patiently, "Whoever you are, put Brian on."

"A second," the voice said, and then the phone was held out in the air. Justin could hear Brian's voice approaching, saying in an annoyed tone, "Who told you to answer my phone?" Then he said into the receiver, "Yeah?"

"You let a trick stay over?"

"Hey. I didn't let him, I fell asleep, and he didn't have the brains to leave. Hold on." The other voice sounded in the background and Brian answered, "No, sorry, that's it." Justin could almost see Brian fending off the trick's attempt at a goodbye kiss. "Fuck off."

When Brian came back on the phone, Justin said sweetly, "It's your charm that gets them."

"It's my dick that gets them."

"Well, I want you to come get me now. Not with your dick, with your car."

"'I'll bring both. Where do you want to go, Mr. Taylor?"

"It's Wednesday, remember, I have to go to work. But I'm too tired for the stupid bus and anyway," he added grinning to himself, "it's on your way." Brian often complained because Ad Alley, Justin's part-time employer, was on the other side of town from Sidney's gallery.

"Of course," Brian said, deadpan. "But make sure you're ready, I can't be -- "

"Late for Sidney. I know. I'll shower quick."

In the car Brian commented on how tired he looked. Justin nodded, then realized that Brian, smiling at him with a raised eyebrow, had his own ideas about what might have tired Justin out. Without thinking he said, "No, I was on the computer half the night, looking things up."

"Half the night? What things?"

Justin blinked. "Just -- art stuff. So what's this meeting with Sidney about, does he have another show coming up?"

Brian was diverted into yet another conversation about Sidney's endless demands on his time. Sidney was still Brian's most important client, important not just because of the retainer he was paying but also because of his many contacts. The Weather Patterns show had been very successful, and Brian's efforts had given the gallery more press coverage than even Sidney had hoped for; but now he was impatient for Brian's next miracle. In the meantime, Brian was in the middle of a major project for "In the Frame" magazine, working with Katie, and had several other small clients to handle. Babysitting Sidney was taking too much of his time - and trying his patience.

"You don't have any patience anyway," Justin pointed out. His messenger bag was in the way of his feet. He pushed it over and suddenly paused, frowning at it. Then he picked it up.

"Thank you, that's helpful." A delivery truck was blocking the intersection ahead. Brian made a right-hand turn to detour around the block, hoping to dodge back over to the street where Ad Alley had its offices. He glanced anxiously at his watch.

"I didn't mean -- " Justin began, rummaging through his bag, and stopped. "Oh shit. Oh shit!"

"What?"

"Fuck, I forgot it!" He glared into his bag. When he still didn't explain, Brian smacked his leg. "The disk with the revised mechanicals I was working on," Justin said. "Jake told me to have them by Wednesday."

Brian looked at his watch again. "I can take you back to Daphne's but then you'll have to catch the bus to work."

"But it's not at Daphne's! Fuck. It's at the loft. Remember I was working on it on your computer?"

"Well, you're out of luck, because I don't have time to take you back there."

"But -- "

"No. You want to get out of the car and take a cab? I have money."

Justin shook his head. "No, I'll tell Jake I forgot it and see how big a deal it is. If he's really upset I'll go back at lunchtime."

Brian pulled up in front of Ad Alley's building. Justin's fingers picked fretfully at the straps of his bag. He looked out the window at the building but made no move to get out of the car.

A jacket, a change of clothes, the new sneakers, the old boots, a package for his mother, Rage drawings to show Michael, his art slides he nearly threw a hissy fit over - how many mornings had Brian listened to a litany of what was missing? Now he was tired himself, sick of Sidney, sick of his work, and most of all sick of the nights he slid over looking for warm skin and found nothing but empty sheets. All Brian's irritation, and the hurt he didn't recognize himself, suddenly burst out of him. "Why the fuck don't you quit with this shit?" he demanded. "Why don't you move back in with me? You practically live there anyway."

Justin, startled, turned to face him. After a moment he was able to ask quietly, "Why do you want me to?"

"Well, for starters, so I can stop listening to you bitch that you've left this here and that there. Your personal possessions are all over town. And I'm chauffeuring you everywhere. It's a pain in the ass."

"Thanks. Any other reason?"

"Do I need one?"

They stared at each other. Justin hadn't been prepared for this conversation at this moment, but he tried to pull himself together. Maybe it was time to get this cleared up, especially if . . . he stopped himself from thinking that far ahead. He said, "I'm not trying to push you, Brian. But if we're going to live together again, I want to know what it means. Is it just that it would be more convenient?"

"What the hell is it supposed to mean?" Justin didn't answer. Brian said, "Don't you think your little show of independence has gone on long enough? Yeah, okay, you can take care of yourself. I get it. Considering I'm barely taking care of myself these days, I don't know why you think you have to prove it."

Justin's jaw dropped. "That's not what I -- " he broke off. "All right, maybe you're right. Maybe some of it was to prove I can take care of myself. But I had to prove it to myself, not to you."

"And you haven't convinced yourself yet?"

"There are other reasons."

"Such as?"

"Brian, I've moved in and out of the loft so many fucking times, you might as well install a revolving door." Brian snorted. "I don't want that to happen again." He paused, and looked at Brian levelly. "Next time I want it to be permanent."

It was a red-flag word, he knew that, certain to make bull Brian blow steam and rake his hooves on the ground. But if he was going to ask Justin the question, then he was going to have to listen to the answer.

But Brian had had time to prepare for something. He merely parroted the word back. "Permanent?"

"Yes," Justin said. "Meaning we're committed to staying together."

"Christ. It wasn't a proposal."

"Good, because I don't want to get married."

"Then what's all this commitment shit?"

"Just what I said, that we know we're staying together. I'm planning my future with you. I want to be sure you're thinking the same way."

He wasn't giving Brian much to ridicule, but Brian tried anyway. He put on a smirk and said, "How sweet. So, we'll be like all the happy homos imitating the breeders. Shall we buy a cozy little house with a white picket fence while we're at it?"

A truck rumbled by Brian's window, belching smoke. "I don't want a cozy house," Justin said, his voice rising over the noise. "I don't want to imitate breeders. I don't want a wedding. I don't want a picket fence. I'm not talking about what other people do, I don't give a shit what other people do! I'm talking about us. What we do is just between you and me and nobody else. We get to decide."

"I thought we were deciding whether you're moving in."

"Just tell me that you're not thinking about it only for next week, next month, or even next year. Tell me we're together and we're staying together." He paused. "If that's really how you feel. Is it?"

"I don't have time for this. Forget it, get out of the car."

"No. And stop looking at your watch. You still have time."

Brian said angrily, "I'm not Mysterious Marilyn, I can't read tea leaves and see into the fucking future. How do I know what we're going to do next year? I'm not sure I can pay my bills next month. "

"Brian -- "

"This is bullshit. We'll be together as long as we both want to be, and when one of us doesn't want to, then we won't be. You know that. That's the way it works." No locks on our doors, the memory echoed in Justin's mind. The last time Brian gave this speech, things hadn't turned out very well. Didn't he remember? But Brian went on, "And it doesn't matter how many pretty lies we tell each other. Or how many pretty rings we exchange."

The mention of rings was deliberate. Justin was forced to think of Ethan's ring, as Brian intended. Justin flushed, but he wouldn't back down. "Of course sometimes people break their promises, I know that. I know it." And I know I walked out on you. I walked out on Ethan, too. "But you have to at least try. You have to at least want it. That's what I'm asking you. Do you want to be with me?"

"Hello?" Brian waved his hand in front of Justin's face. "I am with you, have you noticed?"

"I don't mean just this minute! I mean for the future."

"Maybe there is no future. I could be run over by a bus tomorrow, for all you know."

Suddenly mischievous, Justin said, "Fine. But what I want to know is, will you die murmuring my name?"

Brian snickered and they were able to smile at each other. Brian laid his hand gently on Justin's leg and Justin closed his own hand over it. Finally Brian said in a low voice, "Look, I'm not going anywhere. Unless a fucking bus does get me. I'm here. This lasts as long as you want it to."

"Me?" Justin stared. "Why just me?"

"Fuck, you're twenty years old! Why are you so eager to sign over your whole life? You don't know what you're going to want."

"I want you. You know that."

"You want me now."

"So you're saying I don't know what I want, because I'm too young? What the fuck is wrong with you, why can't you stop worrying about how old I am? I'm not in high school any more."

"I'll say," Brian said.

A young woman Justin worked with was passing by on the sidewalk, heading for the building entrance. She saw Justin in the car and waved. Justin returned the wave, trying to smile. When he turned back, Brian's eyes were fixed on his face, waiting with some message. Justin braced himself, tightening his hand over Brian's. "You're only twenty," Brian said. "You're only twenty, and you're not finished becoming the man you're going to be. You're going to be -- fuck, you're going to be amazing." He glanced out the windshield, shaking his head in disbelief, as if he saw something miraculous going by. Justin's eyes widened. "But you can't be sure how you're going to feel in two or three or ten years."

"But - but Brian, isn't it the same for you?"

"No. I already am everything I'm going to be." His face darkened. "I'm not going to be anything else except - " He paused. "Except older."

"Jesus."

"Or dead, preferably. So it's your call. I've always told you that. It's always been your call." He sounded brisk now, as if it were nothing. As if he hadn't just shredded his pride.

Justin looked hopelessly at the man who loved him but had no faith in him. He knew he had forced himself into Brian's life from the beginning. He had nearly forced Brian to love him. But how could he force Brian to accept his certainty?

And if he couldn't, what did they have to build on?

"So are you moving in or not?" Brian asked.

He's still not ready, Justin thought sadly. But what he said was, "I'm not ready."

Brian rolled his eyes. "Okay, live in two places and never know where anything is. I don't give a shit, just stop bitching about it. Will you at least move your ass now, so I can be on time?"

Justin kissed him, gently, and got out of the car.

 

*****
 

Brian spent an hour at the gallery, patiently explaining his plans to promote the next scheduled show, followed by another hour impatiently soothing Sidney's nerves. As soon as he could escape, he headed over to see Katie at the Frame offices. She liked to flirt too much, but at least with her he could break out a little.

He was ushered in to her office and asked to wait, because Ms. Jameson was still conferring with the editor-in-chief. He amused himself with looking through her bookshelves and picking things up on her desk. He was playing with a Rubik's cube with Monet's water lilies on it when she came in. "Good morning, Brian," she said in a cold tone, flashing him a stern look over the top of her metal-rimmed glasses. Brian was seated at her desk. He looked up, a little surprised that she seemed to mind, but as soon as she closed the door she said in a more natural voice, "You want coffee? I've got a little whiskey we could slip in it."

"Katie, you know how to make a man feel welcome."

"Well, you've already made yourself at home," she said with amusement. Brian smiled wickedly, leaned back in her chair, and put his feet up on her desk. She laughed and sat down across from him. "Hit the buzzer and tell Angie to bring us some coffee."

"Angie, coffee, " Brian said into the box. "Still use these things?" he asked, meaning the intercom. "Isn't it a little retro?"

"Exactly, that's why it's so hip." Katie kicked off her stilettos and put her own long legs up on her side of the desk, so that her stocking-feet were nearly touching Brian's shoes. She was wearing an expensive pale silk suit with a conservative white blouse, but it was opened down to the top of her lacy bra. Her short skirt rode up, exposing her thighs.

"Garters?" Brian asked with surprise.

"Also very hip," Katie assured him. "All the slutty young girls are wearing them."

"I wouldn't know," Brian said, and shot her another grin. He wasn't sure if Katie had guessed, but there was a limit to how far he wanted her flirtations to go. In any case, he was out to Sidney now, so she'd be hearing about it soon one way or the other.

"Hmmm," Katie said, understanding him. "I was afraid of that." She grinned back. "It's always the hottest guys. So do you have a hot guy in your life?"

In my life but not my loft, apparently. "Sort of," he said. Then he had a sudden thought of how Justin would react to that. "I mean, yes. Also young and very slutty."

"More than I have," Katie sighed. "But at least I'll get laid in Boston next weekend."

"Really. Who's in Boston?"

"It's not a who, it's a what. The annual conference for MAT, the Magazine Advertisers with Too Much Time on Their Hands, or whatever it is. Haven't you ever been?"

"I went a few years ago. There was nothing new."

"No, I never learn anything new at these things but I usually manage to get laid."

"It's always good to take care of business."

"And speaking of which, I guess we better get down to it," she said, just as Angie appeared with the coffee. Katie put her shoes back on, directed Brian to the whiskey in the bottom drawer of the desk, and settled down to review Brian's recommendations for the magazine's PR in the fall, including two quite creative tie-ins to possible cover stories. Brian started to enjoy himself. Katie was much easier to deal with than Sidney. She had been his client back at the agency, and looked at PR with an advertiser's eye, as he did. And she knew him. He didn't feel he had to prove himself over and over.

When they were finishing, as Brian packed up his papers, Katie mentioned that she had run into Lindsay on the street a few days ago. "Did she tell you? She's great to talk to, I like her."

"I knew you two WASPs would hit it off."

Katie made a face but continued, "She introduced me to her partner, um, Melissa?"

"Melanie."

"Everybody's gay lately."

"Also very hip," Brian assured her.

"They were pushing their son in his stroller. What a gorgeous kid."

Brian nearly said, "Thank you," but caught himself. He'd made enough revelations to Katie for one morning.

"Do you know if she's ever tried to get him into baby modeling?"

Over my dead body, Brian thought. "No, I know she hasn't. Why? Are you moving on to your next career as a baby rep?"

"No, but there's this idea that was presented about art prodigies. You know, like baby Mozarts only with a paintbrush. We'll need models and when I saw this kid I thought - oh, but he's too big. Mark will want infants."

Brian cocked his head. "An idea for what?"

"Our new ad campaign. The agency was in here with it last week." She looked at him as if only just recognizing him. "Brian. Brian, would you mind giving me your opinion of it? Because frankly I thought -- no, you tell me first." There were layout boards stacked in the corner, which Brian hadn't seen. She pulled them out and propped them up on the two chairs for viewing. Brian looked them over.

The Frame was supposed to be ultra-hip and next generation. The idea of the art prodigies wasn't bad at all, but the execution . . . He said finally, "Katie, this is crap."

She sighed. "I knew it. But I was hoping I was wrong."

"Did Mark like it?"

"He seemed to. But really, he just listens to the agency people. He doesn't know."

"You do," Brian said. Without stopping to think about it, he blurted, "And you know I can do better."

Katie took off her glasses. "Are you saying you want to do the new campaign?"

Brian felt a jolt, like when E hit his bloodstream. "Do you have the authority to give it to me?"

"I -- " Katie paused and twirled the end of her glasses between her fingers. Brian waited without breathing. Then she said, "If I do, Brian, you have to come through for me. You have to."

Brian gave her his best cocky smile. "Give me until Tuesday."

"All right," she decided. "Then I'll be able to see what you've got before the conference. But Mark's going to have my ass in a sling."

"Save that for the conference," Brian advised, and she laughed.

 

*****
 

Justin slid the loft door open. It was his lunch hour, not that he was going to have time to eat anything. Jake had been really irritated that he didn't have the revised mechanicals with him, and apologies about a forgotten disk hadn't helped. "You could have just emailed the file over here," Jake pointed out, several times. "Why didn't you think of that?" Justin didn't know why he hadn't thought of that.

The truth was he had found it hard to concentrate, when he was working on the mechanicals. Since the Weather Patterns show he had lost his enthusiasm for his job, and instead of looking for ways to distinguish himself, he was merely completing his assignments with as little fuss as possible. But that would hardly convince Ad Alley to hire him full-time. He was supposed to be showing them how good he could be.

Justin slammed his messenger bag to the floor and glanced around the top of the desk, but Brian had been working on something for Sidney and his folders were all over. When he wanted Justin's work out of the way he dumped it in the second drawer, so Justin pulled it open and rummaged through it until he found the disk. He grabbed it and turned back for the door, then paused. He was sure this was the right one, but he hadn't labeled it. Better open it and check. The lack of sleep last night had been hurting him all morning, making him slow, and one more stupid mistake would be too much for Jake's temper.

Justin sat down at the desk and waited for Brian's computer to boot up. He looked over Brian's work, which seemed to be media schedules, financial graphs, and press clippings. It all looked so tedious. No wonder Brian was always staring into space when he was supposed to be working.

In an unconscious imitation, Justin leaned back in the chair and lifted his eyes over the top of the screen. Then his mouth fell open. It was Wednesday; he hadn't been here since Monday morning. Some time in between, Brian had hung his "Cloud" painting.

It was on the far wall that had briefly held the plasma TV. Justin wondered how he had missed it when he came in. He had been intent on the desk but the painting dominated the whole room. And Brian would be looking right at it whenever he was working.

I told him I would store it at my mother's, he thought. I asked him to drive me over with it. He never said . . . Christ, how did he get it framed so fast?

Justin got up slowly, forgetting to put in the disk, and crept up on the painting as if it might back away from him. But it was motionless. Solid. Arrogant in its harsh colors and vibrant with the frustration he had poured into it. It was one of the best pieces he had ever created, but he was still surprised Brian wanted it on his wall. Well, I'm not the only one who's frustrated, he remembered.

He started to drift around the loft, checking back over his shoulder to see how the painting looked from every angle. Eventually he drifted into the bedroom. He couldn't see the painting any more but he looked at the tumbled bed with sudden yearning, wishing Brian were here and they could fuck. Something about Brian hanging the painting made him sad, but he was grateful, too. Brian had understood it.

Justin gave in to his impulse and sprawled out on the bed, nuzzling his face into one of the pillows and thinking about the ways he could show Brian his appreciation later. Then he remembered a trick had been here last night. No wonder the bed was still unmade. Brian had intended to change the sheets but had run out of time. "Ugh," Justin said out loud, wrinkling his nose. He sat up.

Brian had been tricking more lately. For a few months, he had really slowed down, at least by Kinney standards, but since the show he had been more on the prowl than Justin had seen in a long time. If they spent a night apart now, he knew Brian would be out looking for somebody - and Brian never looked in vain. Lately, even when they were together at Babylon, Brian would grab somebody else to join them for a trip to the backroom. At least he asks me first now, Justin thought humorously. When I lived here, he used to spring guys on me as a surprise sometimes. I hated that.

Somehow he knew that even if he did live with Brian again, Brian wouldn't pull that stunt any more. Brian's tricking wasn't the problem it had once been for him. It bothered him now only because he knew a lot of tricking meant Brian felt tense. Tense and unhappy.

Maybe he needs me here, Justin thought. Maybe that's what he meant this morning.

He sighed and pulled himself together. Better check the disk and get out of here. It won't help if I'm late getting back. . . Great. Now I'm as freaked about the time as Brian.

At the door he looked back out at the loft, still too bare, with a strange mix of discount furniture and a few lingering signs of past luxuries. And a painting proclaiming unhappiness looming over it all.

Fuck all of this, Justin thought. That's it, I've had enough. We both have.

 

*****
 

When Jennifer pulled into her driveway that evening, she was startled to see Justin sitting on the front steps. He hadn't told her he would be dropping by. And why was he sitting out here, as if he didn't have a key, as if it weren't his home?

She felt uneasy but put on a big smile as she opened the car door. "Hi, honey. I didn't know you were coming."

"Either did I." He held up a small red ball. "This was in your forsythia bush."

"Oh, it's probably from the boys across the street. They're always playing out here now that it's warm again. I'm so glad it's finally spring. Look, it's almost six and it's still light out."

Justin nodded, still sitting and looking down, making no move to kiss her hello. She stood beside him uncertainly as he bounced the ball off the bottom step. Then he tossed it back and forth between his palms. Something about him holding the ball was disquieting, but Jennifer didn't take time to dredge up the memory. She asked, "Is everything okay?"

He looked up at her then. "You were right," he said quietly.

Jennifer felt a surge of panic. Some new disaster had struck. Oh God, she thought. Isn't there ever going to be an end to his heartbreak? But she tried to rally herself to help him. She remembered their conversation after Molly's concert, when she had asked him if he was sure of what he wanted. Of who he wanted. She asked, "You mean about Brian?"

Justin smiled a little and looked back down at the ball in his hand. "No, not Brian. It's not Brian. Not really." Jennifer waited. "You were right about me, Mom."

Jennifer had no idea what this could mean, but she lifted her chin with determination. She had failed him other times; she knew that. She had let Craig and circumstance and her own discomfort and cowardice make decisions. Not this time. "Come inside," she said. "You can help me make dinner and we'll talk. Molly won't be home until after basketball practice."

Justin squeezed the ball hard in his gimp hand, then tossed it back into the bushes for the neighbor boys to find. He stood up and followed her to the front door. As she fumbled for her keys he asked, "Are you busy on Friday?"
 

*****
 

Three hours later, when Justin returned to the loft, he found that it been transformed into a command center. The Frame's previous ad campaigns were hanging on lines across the open space, the way he and Michael had once displayed their first Rage ideas. Campaigns for competitive publications were propped up on the windowsills. Brian was manning the phone, making call after call. In between he explained to Justin that Katie was giving him a chance to take over the Frame's advertising.

"That's great," Justin said, a little confused but trying to match Brian's obvious elation. He saw that all of Sidney's folders had been tossed off the desk to the floor but he decided not to comment. "Who are you calling?"

"Freelancers. I need to line up a couple of creative teams if I can. I'm getting some refusals, though, because it's on spec." Brian, looking something up on his Palm pilot, found the number he wanted and reached for the phone again.

"What's that?"

"On speculation. That means I only give them money for expenses. They don't get paid for work on the job unless the Frame buys the idea."

Justin went into the kitchen to get a beer. He came back out, his brow furrowed. "Are you working that way for Katie? It's only on spec?"

"Yep."

"So you could do all this and not make any money?"

"Yep." Brian added into the receiver, leaving a message, "Hi, Arnie, it's Brian Kinney. I heard about a job you might be interested in. Call me back." He left the number and hung up. He smiled crookedly at Justin. "I haven't worked on spec for years. But Katie couldn't budget anything for me. As it is she's putting herself on the line just by letting me try."

"I guess she really likes you."

"Or she really doesn't like what the agency did. Nothing like other people's fuck-ups to create an opportunity. So what do you want to order?"

"It's after nine. You didn't eat yet?" Brian raised an eyebrow. Justin asked apologetically, "Were you waiting for me? I don't remember making dinner plans."

"It wasn't definite. I wasn't hungry until now."

Justin nodded. That wasn't surprising. When Brian worked like this, he was consumed by it. He was already turning back to the computer, forgetting about dinner - and Justin - again.

Justin had been preoccupied himself. Now he looked again at the hanging ads and had a new thought. "So you're going to be pretty wrapped up with all this for a while, aren't you?"

"Mmmm," Brian murmured, still looking at the screen. Then he flashed Justin a grin. "Don't worry, I'll require frequent sex breaks."

"I never would have guessed. So how long are you going to be working on this, right through the weekend?"

"Probably right through until Tuesday morning when I bring it back to Katie."

Justin could hardly believe it. The timing was perfect. This would make everything so much easier. Careful to keep his excitement out of his voice, he said, "I had dinner with my mom." Brian didn't answer. "She wants me to visit my grandmother with her. For the weekend." Justin thought Brian wasn't listening, but he hit "Save" for something and then looked over, fixing his attention on Justin's face.

"This weekend?"

"Yeah. I might as well. I haven't visited her in a long time. I can change my work days at Ad Alley. Jake says he doesn't care which days I work as long as it's three out of five. We're going Friday morning and we'll be back Monday night." Justin's throat felt dry. He took another swallow of beer. "If you're going to be so busy anyway, it's a good time for me to go." Brian went on looking at him. "Isn't it?"

Brian said slowly, "I had some idea of you working with me. Now that you're an ad man and all. You could do a few roughs, anyway."

"Oh. Shit. But I -- "

"Relax. Go see grandma. I'll stagger along without you."

"You sure?" Justin crossed over to stand beside his chair. Brian put an arm around his hips. "What about those frequent sex breaks?" Justin teased, rubbing the back of Brian's neck.

"Ah, now that's a different problem." Justin made an attempt to sit in Brian's lap, facing him, but the desk chair was so narrow the best he could do was perch on Brian's knees. Brian had to hold him on.

"I miss the chaise," Justin said into Brian's ear. He meant he wanted a ride. The chaise had always been their favorite place for that position.

"We'll manage without," Brian promised.
 

*****
 

The next day Justin put in a full day at Ad Alley and then a long shift at the diner. He didn't get to the loft until nearly midnight, but Brian was not only awake but still working. He had bought two more floor lamps, complaining he couldn't work without them. All the track lights were on, too. The loft was blazing with light and Brian's energy. Papers and magazines were everywhere.

Justin hesitated. He didn't want to leave Brian for the weekend with no more than a peck on the lips goodbye, but he understood the compulsion to keep working when the creative drive was on. "Maybe I shouldn't interrupt you," he said.

"Yes, you should," Brian said, and pounced on him. He brought his creative energies right into bed, and delighted Justin into exhaustion.

In the morning, they showered and fucked as usual. Justin knew better than to expect any farewell fussing. Besides, it was only for a few days -- and Brian didn't know they might be important. "I have to get back to Daphne's," Justin said. He was about to complain that he still hadn't packed his clothes and his mother was coming for him at 10, but he caught himself. "I'll see you Tuesday," he said instead, giving Brian a last squeeze around the middle. Brian nodded and ruffled his hair. Justin could see his mind was already going back to his work. "Good luck with everything," Justin said softly, almost speaking to himself. He felt a little frightened, but he couldn't let Brian see it.

"Kiss Granny for me," Brian said.

To save time, Justin grabbed a cab back to Daphne's apartment. He upended the dirty clothes out of his overnight bag and started to re-pack it with clean socks and underwear. While he hesitated over which clothes to take, Daphne came in and perched in her pajamas on the edge of the bed. She knew where he was going and why. They didn't discuss it again. Instead, Daphne listened to another recital of the conversation he had had with Brian in the car about moving back in.

"Maybe you should," she said, voicing her opinion on it for the first time. "After all, he gave you a second chance. Maybe you should give him one."

Justin tossed fresh shirts on the bed next to her and glared. "Come on, Daph. You know why I don't want to live with him yet."

"But you almost do live with him. I mean you're only here maybe two nights a week."

"It's still not the same. Are you anxious to get rid of me or something?"

"Cut it out. But maybe Brian doesn't know what a commitment means. Maybe you have to show him."

"Meaning what?"

"You keep waiting for him to prove his commitment. Why don't you prove your commitment instead?"

"Are you kidding?" Justin demanded. He flung underwear into the bag. "Haven't I been doing that? I've been making an ass out of myself over him. Christ. Is there anybody left in Pittsburgh who doesn't know I'm committed to him?"

"Well, apparently Brian doesn't."

Justin groaned. This lasts as long as you want it to, Brian had said. Justin was still bewildered by it. "How could he not know? I've done everything."

"Have you? Then how come you're still here, in my apartment?"

"Oh, for -- "

"Besides," she drove on, "if this other stuff comes through, aren't you going to -- "

"No, no, don't say it. I'll deal with it when it happens. If it happens."

"Right. So now who doesn't want to think about the future?" She grinned. Justin threw a pair of his briefs at her, hitting her on the shoulder. "Ick. Those better have been clean," she warned.

"Daph, I totally hate you right now."

"Because you know I'm totally right."

"I swear, I think you're in love with Brian yourself."

"Not me, I don't have the stamina." She smiled but his face had clouded over again. She said gently, "You should tell him." Justin shook his head and she sighed. "I'll help you pack."

 

*****
 

Brian couldn't avoid lunch with a client or a Friday afternoon drink with Sidney, but he was back at the loft as soon as he could slip away. An art director who had agreed to work with him came by to discuss the project and the layouts Brian wanted. After he left Brian checked in by phone with another artist/writer team he had set loose to come up with their own approaches. They agreed to come by Sunday morning and review what they had.

He grabbed a sandwich for dinner and sat down in front of the TV. He channel-surfed, thinking about nothing in particular, giving himself a rest. He considered spending a few hours at Babylon before he went back to work, but he knew Michael was busy and he wasn't in the mood to go alone. Finally he picked up the phone and dialed Justin's cell number.

"Hey. Want to have phone sex?"

"Hi. Um, I didn't expect you to call. Hold on." There were voices and traffic sounds in the background. Justin put his hand over the phone, muffling them. Brian cocked his head. Justin came back on saying, "Is everything all right?"

"Why wouldn't it be?"

"Okay. Well, then, this isn't a good time to -- do what you said. I can't really talk to you while I'm here."

His voice was peculiar. Brian, who had started to unbutton his jeans, buttoned them back up. "Why?

"I just can't."

"It sounds awfully noisy at your grandmother's house. Aren't you getting good home cooking?"

"What?"

"It sounds like you're out on the street."

"Oh. Yeah. My grandmother wanted to take us out. Look, I have to go. I'll call you when I get back."

"Sure," Brian said softly, and hung up. He turned off the TV and stared at the blank screen, drumming his restless hands on his knees. After a few minutes he went into the kitchen for a beer and started to pace, swigging from the bottle. Then he grabbed the phone again.

Unfortunately for Daphne, she was home. As soon as she said hello, Brian demanded, "So where the fuck is Justin?"

There was a gasping sound on the other end and a long hesitation. Finally Daphne stuttered, "Oh, hi, Brian. Brian. Justin told you where he was going, didn't he?"

"No, he didn't, as a matter of fact. He told me he was going to his grandmother's but it's not true."

"How would I -- "

"Don't shit me, Daphne. Where is he? What's he up to?"

"Brian, I really don't know what -- "

"Maybe I should call his mother," Brian said. He wasn't sure why, but he thought this would sound like a threat. It was a completely idle one, of course. He wouldn't call Jennifer with this question or any other about Justin if his life depended on it. But Daphne didn't know that.

"No, don't do that, Brian. Look, uh, I'm sure Justin will tell you when he - I mean, it's nothing for you to -- Oh, shit! I don't know what to do," she wailed. Brian gave a snort of amusement at her predicament, but he had no intention of having mercy. "He doesn't want you to know!"

"Obviously, since he didn't fucking tell me. But you're going to tell me."

"Brian -- "

"Right now."

"Look, he's just kind of fooling around with this -- "

"Fooling around?" The thought that had been hammering at the back of Brian's mind suddenly burst through. "Do you mean fucking around? Or maybe I should say, fiddling around?"

Daphne stopped breathing. There was no way to pretend she didn't understand what he meant. Now what? She said desperately, "It's nothing like that, Brian. I swear."

"No?"

"No, really. I wouldn't cover for him if he was pulling that shit again." She added, "You know, I never liked that street corner genius and his stupid chin hair anyway."

To her relief, Brian gave a great barking laugh. He hadn't really believed Justin would do that now. ("I promise," he had said.) But an anger that was all too familiar had risen in Brian's chest as soon as he realized Justin was trying to lie to him again. But why had he? What could he be doing now that he didn't want to talk about?

Daphne was saying, "Brian, please, don't make me tell you. Justin will tell you himself, really, at some point."

Brian paused. He said quietly, "You mean he's not ready?"

"Right," Daphne said, not recognizing the dangerous purr in his voice. She nodded vigorously, as if he could see her. "He's not ready."

"Don't tell him I called," Brian ordered. The next moment there was a click and then suddenly the dial tone buzzed in her ear. He had hung up on her.

 

*****

"You do it on purpose, don't you?"

Brian had been sleeping so deeply he hadn't heard the door. He opened his eyes to find Michael standing over him. He had nodded off on the couch. His notepad, covered with possible headlines and doodles, was still on his chest.

"What time is it?" Brian asked.

"Three o'clock. That's three o'clock in the afternoon, Sunday, if you need to know. So do you do it on purpose?"

Brian yawned. "What?"

"Not return my phone calls, not answer my emails, not show up at the diner or Babylon, just suddenly fall off the planet. You always do this to me, and then I have to come running over here to make sure you're not dead on the floor. Or hanging from the ceiling."

"That'll be next week. If I don't get this."

"Get what?"

Brian sat up and waved at the papers all over the floor. "I'm trying to land an account." Michael perched on the sofa arm while Brian explained.

"Well, you could still have answered my phone calls," Michael said when he was finished. "But this sounds great. Did you come up with anything yet?"

"Maybe." Brian frowned and rubbed his hands over his face. "I have to work it up more, make it better."

"You will," Michael said cheerfully. "Is it a really big account?"

"Depends what you mean by big." He yawned again. "Generally I say nine inches or more."

"I meant is it big enough for you to launch?" Brian shot him a look. Michael said, "Come on, you know, I mean to start your own agency."

"Who the fuck said I wanted to start my own agency?"

"Well, why else are you trying to land a big ad campaign instead of concentrating on your PR work? When you get it, you'll need people to help you run it, won't you? You'll have to staff up."

"If I get it."

Michael frowned. This wasn't like Brian. Where was all his confidence and bravado? Why wasn't he proclaiming how he'd take over Pittsburgh? "You should think ahead a little more, Brian. Think about the future."

"Oh Christ, not you, too. Is it contagious?"

"Is what contagious?"

Instead of explaining, Brian leaned over to rub his face against Michael's arm like a cat. He lifted his eyes up and asked in a wheedling tone, "Make me some coffee?"

"Oh, sure, I'm dying to wait on you. That's why I came running over here." But Michael smiled, kissed the top of Brian's head, and got up. "I couldn't get Justin either," he added over his shoulder as he went into the kitchen. He had to duck under the hanging ads. "Where is he?"

"Good question," Brian muttered.

"What?"

Brian raised his voice. "I said he went to visit his grandmother for the weekend."

"So you've been here all alone? Or no, of course you haven't." Michael looked towards the bedroom and bathroom, a little alarmed. "Is there anybody here?"

"No. You won't believe this," Brian said ruefully, leaning his arms over the back of the couch, "but I haven't fucked anybody since Wednesday. Not counting the guy on the porn site last night."

Michael pretended horror, then laughed. "That must be a record for you."

"It's a secret," Brian said in a stage whisper.

"Don't worry, all your secrets are safe with me." Michael set the coffeepot to start brewing and came back to sit with Brian on the couch. "So tell me this secret. Are you trying to get back into advertising? Isn't that why you want this account?"

Brian shrugged. He didn't know the answer himself. "Katie asked me to look at it, and it was all fucked up. These people don't know what the fuck they're doing."

"And you do," Michael said, nodding in agreement.

Brian kicked a bare foot at some of the layouts on the floor. "It feels good to work on it." He stuck his tongue in his cheek. "And I'm always in favor of whatever feels good."

"So I've heard," Michael said smiling. Then the smile fell off his face. He stared at the far wall, seeing the painting for the first time. "Holy shit. Where did you get that?"

"A local artist."

"No kidding, Justin did that? Wow." He walked over for a closer look. "It's amazing, but it's so. . . harsh. It's giving me the creeps."

"He calls it 'Cloud.'"

Michael looked back at him in bewilderment. "Cloud? What cloud?" The scene was only hot barren earth. "I don't get it. What does he mean?"

"He moves in mysterious ways, Mikey. Want to go to the gym?"
 

*****
 

Brian arrived at Katie's office on Tuesday wearing an exquisitely tailored suit and carrying a kick-ass campaign in his briefcase. He had two more excellent back-ups in case the first one didn't knock her out of her stilettos, but he doubted he would need them. He didn't. She shrieked, "Fucking brilliant!" at him in delight as soon as he started to present the campaign. Then she gave him an evil smile. "But I never quite told Mark I was giving this to you."

"Living dangerously, aren't you, Katie? Let's go show him."

"No, you better wait. Don't worry, I can handle him. I'll beat him over the head with these boards if I have to."

So Brian sat in the reception area for half an hour, listening to Katie and Mark screaming at each other in Mark's office. The receptionist, pretending to be deaf, kept offering him candy. Finally they both heard Katie shout, "At least look at the fucking thing first!"

Then there was a dead silence. The receptionist turned terrified eyes on Brian. "Guess he's looking at the fucking thing," Brian said mildly.

Five minutes later Mark burst into the reception area, waving one of the boards as if he were going to attack Brian with it. But when Brian stood up, Mark grabbed his hand and pumped it in an enthusiastic handshake. "Great work, great work! Come in to my office, we'll discuss the budget."

Katie winked at him behind Mark's back. As they marched down the hall behind Mark, Brian slipped her a very small, beautifully wrapped box. "What's this?" she whispered.

"A thank you."

"Ooh. Pearls? Diamonds? I'm not supposed to take bribes."

"Black silk garters," Brian said. "I recommend you wear them with pride. And nothing else." She giggled and squeezed his arm.

 

*****

He brought the good news to the diner, knowing that Justin was working a shift. Ben and Michael were there, too, grabbing lunch together in the middle of the workday. Brian sauntered in and stood by the register to wait.

Justin had called the night before to tell Brian he was back, but they hadn't talked long. Brian hadn't asked him to come over, either, but Justin assumed he was still fine-tuning his presentation to Katie. When he looked up now to see Brian, standing and waiting with a small smile he couldn't hold back, he felt as if they hadn't seen each other in months. "Hey!" he yelped, and ran around the counter to fling himself into Brian's arms. "How did it go, how did it go?" he demanded.

Brian paused, frowned, and took a deep breath. Justin's eyes widened in alarm. But then Brian said smugly, "I got it, I got the account."

Justin whooped and kissed him again, hard. Michael popped out of his booth to hug Brian, too, while Debbie came over to find out what was going on. After the first congratulations and explanations were over, Brian ordered coffee, saying, "I don't have time for lunch. I want to get over to the gallery and tell Lindsay."

Michael asked, "Why not just call her? Then you can eat with us."

"No, I want to tell Sidney, too. I'll have to stroke his ego and make him think he's still the center of my world."

"Don't stroke anything else," Debbie said, and laughed heartily at her own joke before moving on to the next table.

"I thought I was the center of your world," Justin said smiling. He picked up the dirty plates Michael and Ben had been using.

"So you're still going to work for the gallery?" Michael asked.

"Sure, why not, it's all money. This is going to clear a lot of my debt."

"You mean until you can start up."

"Start what?" Justin asked, pausing.

"Brian's going to open his own agency," Michael informed him. Justin's mouth fell open.

"I never said that," Brian said in irritation. "This is only one account. I can run it with freelancers right out of the loft."

"But don't you want your own agency?" Michael persisted.

"I don't know yet."

Ben said, "It sounds like you have a lot of options."

Not now, Justin thought. Shit, what if he opens his own place now? He stared down at the plates in his hands as if he had forgotten what to do with them. "I believe those belong in the kitchen," Brian said. Justin nodded but still didn't move. Brian cocked his head and asked, "So how's Granny?"

Justin pulled himself together. "Fine," he said. He had an anecdote about his grandmother's dog ready but Brian didn't ask anything else. Justin hesitated, then went off with the plates. When he came back, Brian asked, "Coming over tonight?"

"Well, shit, of course," Justin said indignantly. "We haven't fucked in days."

"Do you mind? There are other people here," Michael said. Ben smiled into his tea.

Brian stood up to pull on his coat. "Are you working at Ad Alley tomorrow?" Justin nodded. "Then don't forget to bring a chance of undies," Brian said. He was smiling but there was an edge in his voice. "Later."

"Later," Justin said. His eyes followed Brian out the door.

 

*****
 

Sidney was so unnerved that Brian wound up taking him out to dinner. By dessert Sidney was starting to see the bright side - such as the many more opportunities Brian would now have to get the gallery featured in the Frame. With Sidney placated, Brian returned to the loft feeling smug. He had been tense, mostly alone, and working like a dog for days. Time for a little reward.

"Hey," he called as soon as he closed the loft door.

"I'm in the bedroom," the reward called back.

So far so good. Brian took off his jacket and tie, glancing at the discount furniture, the borrowed TV, and the big empty spaces. Tomorrow I'll go buy more furniture, he thought. Real furniture, not this crap. And a new leather chaise.

Brian smiled to himself and headed for the bedroom, unbuttoning his shirt. He nearly tripped over a large black suitcase at the top of the bedroom stairs. It was Justin's, but he hadn't seen it in a long time. Brian blinked. "Hey," Justin greeted him again.

He was standing by the dresser, unpacking another bag on the bed that was much larger than his overnight one. The closet door was open and Brian could see it was crowded with Justin's pants and shirts. Justin was folding away socks and T-shirts in the dresser. As he used his hip to close one of the drawers, Brian had a flash of memory, of an afternoon when those same drawers had all been emptied and left hanging. Everything had been left hanging then.

Brian turned his head and saw a pile of Justin's sketch books in the corner, next to a mound of CDs and his mini-boom box. He looked back again to find Justin smiling at him. Brian said, "I seem to have missed a chapter. To what do I owe this honor?"

"You asked me to move back."

"I thought I was required to sign a treaty first."

"Listen," Justin suggested, "why don't we wait twenty-four hours before we piss each other off?"

"I'll set my watch."

"Tomorrow we have to pick up my computer. Daphne said I could have the desk, too, but I don't know how we're going to get it over here."

"Oh God, we have to set that fucking computer up again? Christ. Never mind the desk. I'm buying a new dining room table. You can use that again."

"Okay. I told Daphne I'd pay my share of the rent until she gets a new roommate. She won't have trouble, a couple of people are already interested. And after that, I'll pay the same rent to you."

"I don't care."

"I do," Justin said firmly. Brian held up his hands in mock surrender; he wouldn't argue about it. Justin grinned. "It's a good deal for me, I'm getting a lot more space for the same money."

"But you have to share a bed," Brian purred. "Why don't you come here and pay me some rent right now?"

"You're such a shit," Justin said smiling, and went to him.

They fucked for half the night with the same intensity they had had after their reunion, resting briefly and starting over again and again. Eventually Justin closed his eyes in contentment and snuggled under Brian's chin. He was starting to drift off when Brian ran a firm hand down his back and cupped his ass.

"Mmm," Justin murmured, not protesting but a little surprised. "Again?"

"I can't get enough," Brian said. His voice was strange.

"I thought there was no such thing as enough," Justin teased. He opened his eyes and tilted his head back to look into Brian's face. Then his tone changed. "What do you mean?"

"I mean I fuck you and I fuck you and I fuck you and I can't get enough. Why can't I get enough?" He sounded almost angry.

Justin smiled sadly. The answer seemed simple enough to him, but it was no use discussing love with Brian. He said gently, "I hope you never do." Then he grinned. "But keep trying."

The loft was dark, with only the glowing orange light still on. Brian sat up suddenly and switched on the bedside lamp. Justin blinked in the sudden brightness. "Brian?"

Brian took Justin's chin in his hand and searched his face. Justin was starting to look anxious, but Brian saw that it was on his account, not Justin's own. His eyes were worried but clear, hiding nothing.

He'll tell you, Daphne had said. At some point.

Brian kissed him, very gently, rubbing noses. Then he slid his hand down Justin's skin again.

"More?" Justin whispered.

"Whenever you're ready," Brian said.
 

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