Presidential Inauguration

Part 3

With inauguration day rapidly approaching, all planes, trains, buses, and automobiles were headed to Washington D.C., where history was about to be made with the swearing in of America’s first black president, Barack Hussein Obama. Thanks to Justin’s gentle persuasion, included in that procession would be Pittsburgh’s Royal Trio. Tony’s fundraising connections had earned them seats near the swearing-in podium, behind the new first family, as well as tickets to the post ceremony luncheon, and the star-studded “Neighborhood Ball”. It had been nearly a week since Brian’s last radiation treatment. He was now keeping down small amounts of food, and even looked as if he was gaining some of his weight back. Yes, everything was good to go, or so it seemed.

“LGBT activists demonstrated Monday at Ebenezer Baptist Church in Atlanta, protesting the appearance of Pastor Rick Warren at Martin Luther King Day observances. Rev. Warren, pastor of Saddleback Church in Lake Forest California publicly supports California’s Proposition 8, which amended the state Constitution to ban gay marriage,” the anchorwoman on the nine o’clock news reported.

“So much for change,” Brian said sarcastically.

“Brian, be nice,” Justin said.

“I am being nice!” Brian snapped.

“The Presidential Inauguration Committee just issued a statement saying, “We had always intended and planned for Rev. Robinson’s invocation to be included in the televised portion of yesterday’s program. We regret the error in executing this plan, but we are gratified that hundreds of thousands of people gathered on the mall heard his eloquent prayer for our nation,” the anchorwoman continued.

“Bullshit! HBO doesn’t make that kind of mistake. You’re not going to tell me that wasn’t done on purpose. They purposely left Rev. Robinson’s prayer out because he’s a fag!” Brian was certain.

“Brian, remember what Dr. Sharma said. Your body is just starting to return to normal, don’t over exert yourself,” Justin warned.

“Look at them, all gathered at the Lincoln Memorial, singing, and dancing, fooling themselves into thinking that change has come to America. CHANGE FOR WHO?” Brian yelled at the television screen.

Justin turned off the television set. “Brian, you’re getting yourself all worked up for nothing. We’re not going to celebrate President Obama, we’re going to support Tony,” he reminded him.

“I still can’t believe Tony is buying into the hype. Fine, Barack Obama is our first black president, but that’s only half the battle. What about equality for ALL Americans? What about us, and OUR families? Gus is just as important to me, as Sasha, and Malenka….”

“Sasha, and Malia,” Justin corrected him.

“Whatever the fuck their names are, my kid deserves just as many rights as his kids. My family is just as legitimate as his family. I’m not going!” Brian sat down on the sofa, and defiantly folded his arms across his chest.

“What do you mean you’re not going?” Justin asked.

“Did I stutter? I said, I’m not going,” Brian repeated himself. “You go sit at the presidential lunch table, and pretend to be included. Maybe if you’re lucky, they’ll let you take your picture with the new president. Then you and Tony can sit around, and watch all the straight men dance with their wives.”

“Brian, it’s too late to back out now. Tony has been planning this for months. He secured us the best suite at the Four Seasons-Georgia, a private jet to take us to and from Washington, limo service…We can’t do this to him,” Justin reasoned.

“He did it to himself by believing in a dream that for some is still being deferred,” Brian said.

Before Justin could come up with a solid argument, his cell phone began to ring. It was Tony announcing his arrival at the loft. The limo was parked downstairs, and the driver was on his way up to assist with their luggage.

Justin turned to Brian. “Stand up,” he said.

“I’ve already told you, I’m not going.” Brian refused to move.

Justin carried the two garment bags to the door, and put his coat on. “Brian, stand up. It’s time to go,” he said.

This time Brian didn’t answer. He simply turned his head away, and pretended not to listen. An infuriated Justin power-walked over to his bull-headed husband, and grabbed him by the shirt collar. In one adrenaline filled swoop, the little blond yanked Brian to a standing position.

“Listen to me, you selfish son-of-a-bitch. We’re going to Washington, and we’re going to have a good time! Do you understand me? I swear, if you fuck this up for Tony, it’s going take more than the secret service to save your ass. Now put your goddamn coat on!” Justin said with authority.

Brian’s eyes were as wide as teacups. Who the hell was this little shit talking to, and how dare he try to manhandle him? Brian wrenched himself from Justin’s grip. “I’m not going anywhere!” he insisted.

Justin grabbed Brian’s jacket, and began forcibly shoving his arms down the sleeves. “Put it on. I mean it, Brian! I am not going to let you hurt Tony. Now put a smile on that face, and go to the car, NOW!” he ordered.

 

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Justin, Brian, and the limo driver road down the elevator in awkward silence. “It’s a great day.” The driver attempted to make polite conversation.

“It certainly is.” Justin twisted Brian’s finger.

“Ouch! Yes, it’s a great day,” Brian begrudgingly agreed.

“We’ve waited over two hundred years for this day,” the driver added.

“Some of us are still waiting. Ouch, will you stop it!” Brian hissed at Justin, and snatched his hand away.

“I’ll bet you’re excited to be a part of history,” the driver said.

“We’re all a-tingle,” Brian said dryly.

Tony was all smiles when the limo door opened. “Come on, boys, our flying chariot awaits,” he said

“Hey, look at you. You look fantastic.” Justin eagerly kissed his lion.

“Brian, are you alright?” Tony leaned across Justin to kiss his precious one.

“I’m fine.” Brian held his peace, which lasted only until the limo driver pulled away from the curb. “Tony, do you know that HBO blocked out Rev. Robinson’s invocation at the Lincoln Memorial?”

“Brian!” Justin frowned. “HBO already apologized for that. It was an innocent mistake.”

“No, princess, mega communication conglomerates like HBO don’t make those kind of mistakes. Rev. Robinson’s prayer was left out on purpose because he’s an openly gay minister,” Tony said.

“I told you so!” Brian looked at Justin.

“It doesn’t matter, Tony. Brian and I are here for you. This is your day to celebrate with your people,” Justin said.

“Thank you, princess, I’m glad you said that. However there’s been a slight change of plans. We’re not going to Washington, we’re going to Vegas,” Tony said.

“Vegas?” Brian and Justin said in unison.

“But what about going to Washington to witness history together? This is your time to celebrate,” Justin reminded him.

“No princess, that HBO snub was a wake up call. This country’s victory celebration may be for me, but it’s not for us, and I’m not going anywhere my family isn’t wanted. Having said that, we have some celebrating of our own to do. Pittsburgh’s Royal Trio is together, healthier and stronger than ever. It’s time we have that honeymoon I promised you.” Tony kissed Justin.

“What about your reservations at the Four Seasons, tickets to the inauguration, the luncheon, the ball? That must have cost a small fortune,” Brian said.

“They won’t go to waste. I gave them to Bill,” Tony said.

“Bill?” Brian didn’t immediately place the name with the face.

“Bill, the bartender at The Plaza?” Justin asked.

“I owed him a favor.” Tony smiled.
 

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