Dear Brian 

Chapter Two

 

“So when you found out that he’d brought the food, didn’t you freak?”

 

“How do we know it’s a ‘he’?”

 

“Well, why would a woman be interested in you?”

 

Brian and Justin were sitting in Jennifer’s living room after Brian had eaten dinner with the remaining three Taylor’s, followed by a movie. Neither Jen nor Molly knew anything about what had happened.

 

“Most of my friends think that Brian is totally hot. Of course, it could be a girl.” Molly walked in, obviously eavesdropping.

 

“How much did you hear?”

 

“God, Justin, I heard enough. I’m not as stupid as everyone thinks I am. Have you called the police? If this person is following you and knows where you live and where you work and knows about Gus he could really make trouble.”

 

“Thank you, CNN.”

 

“Screw you, Justin. What if they’re really nuts? I mean, have you ever seen ‘Fatal Attraction’?”

 

She sat down on the chair opposite the couch the men were on together, Justin using Brian’s lap as a pillow.

 

“I called a lawyer when I got the e-mail. Unless there’s an actual threat, there’s nothing the police can do.”

 

“Wow, that really sucks, Brian.”

 

“Molly! How many times do I have to talk to you about your language?” All three jumped when Jennifer pulled Molly up short. She paused a moment. “What sucks, Brian?”

 

“Nothing, just some things at work right now. Long hours, you know.” She knew. She’d been through that with Craig.

 

“It’s getting late, Molly. Bed.”

 

“It’s a weekend.”

 

“And you still have to get up in the morning. Move.”

 

“Brian? You’re coming to my soccer game tomorrow, right? Justin said that you were this really good player when you were young.” Justin’s snort was cut short by Brian’s hand over both his mouth and nose.

 

“I was All-State and went to college on a partial soccer scholarship.”

 

“So you’ll come? It’s really early. You could watch my game and give me pointers.”

 

“I’ll be there. So will Justin.” She smiled that Sunshine smile she shared with her brother. She was going to be a knockout in a few years.

 

“Bed.” With the reluctance familiar to any parent, she headed to the stairs, finally going up.

 

“Are you staying over, Brian?” The question was calm, matter of fact and the last thing either of the men would have thought could have come out of Jennifer’s mouth.

 

“Mom?”

 

“Well, it’s silly for him to drive all the way home when he’s coming back here at eight AM.”

 

Brian hesitated, “…Jennifer, I…” OK, fine, he still had mother issues.

 

“Oh, for God’s sake. I know you two sleep together. Just keep the noise down. I’m tired myself and Molly is in the next room. And I’m waking you both up by seven so we can get there.” She got up, gave them a final glance and left the room.

 

Damn. You’ve come a long way, baby.

 

The next morning Jen had opened the door to Justin’s room quietly after listening for a moment and not hearing anything. Brian was sleeping on his back with Justin curled into him; his arm across Brian’s stomach and nestled against the larger man’s shoulder. They were both nude. She saw the empty condom wrapper on the floor. Closing the door, she paused a second, knocked and waited until Justin’s sleepy voice mumbled “…ok…”

 

 An hour later the game was in progress, Molly’s team was up by two goals and their coach had asked Brian to give a fair critique of the kids playing, pointing put obvious weak spots, if he would.

 

To his complete surprise, he found himself having a good time. Jen seemed to find it funny that the other soccer Mom’s (a term she made clear to them that she loathed) found her young lover a hunk so just smiled and accepted the jealous looks. Seeing what was happening, he leaned over and kissed her cheek to fan the flames ever so slightly, causing her to laugh and push him away. Justin spoke to old friends also watching their sibs and the morning was just fine.

 

During one of the lulls, Jennifer turned to him as they sat on a blanket on the sidelines. “So, what’s this about you having a stalker?—I heard you all talking last night.”

 

He glanced at her. “It’s nothing, it’s not even a stalker. I seem to have a secret admirer.”

 

“Oh?”

 

“It’s the usual thing, cards, flowers. It will die out when they get tired of me.”

 

“What about the pictures of you with Gus and Justin? That’s a bit extreme, don’t you think? You were followed.”

 

“I’m being careful, Jennifer, you don’t have to worry. If you’d feel safer, Justin can just stay with you full time.”

 

She smiled at a couple of mothers walking past who greeted her, eyeing Brian. “Aren’t you at all worried?”

 

“Not really. I can take care of myself.”

 

“This person knows where you live, where you work, what sort of food you eat, where you take your son on a weekend. Are you really this nonchalant?”

 

“What am I supposed to do? I’m not going underground and I’m not going to stop living my life.”

 

“Jen? We’re having a cookout for the kids over at Mark and Barb’s after the game. You’ll join us, won’t you? Bring your friend and Justin.” A woman with that suburban blonde hair they all seemed to have had stopped a couple of feet from their blanket.

 

“Janet, I’d love to, but I think Brian and Justin have plans for the day.” She turned to him. “Didn’t you say something about being busy later?”

 

He just nodded.

 

Jennifer remembered herself. “Oh, I’m sorry, Janet DiAnni, this is Brian Kinney, Brian, Janet.”

 

“It’s nice to meet you Brian.” They shook hands. “You didn’t waste anytime, Jen. I heard that Craig had a new girlfriend, no reason for you to sit on the shelf.”

 

“She’s still on the shelf, I’m with Justin.”

 

Smile frozen, Janet excused herself to issue more invitations.

 

“There goes your status with the frigid women of suburbia.”

 

“Why, Jennifer—you surprise me sometimes.” He was smiling.

 

The game ended with Molly’s team up by three goals, Brian gave his comments—they were good on defense, but their passing skills were for shit and they needed drills on blocking to the admiring looks of twenty adolescent girls. He then demonstrated what he meant, singling out Molly as his partner and making her day.

 

Walking back to the car, Justin teased him about his new conquests. Getting in the driver’s side, Brian stopped him from opening the passenger door.

 

“I think your mother would like you to spend some time with them.”

 

“We were going to do stuff today—remember?”

 

“I have a lot of shit I have to finish for work. I’ll talk to you later.”

 

“…My mother is worried about the stalker, isn’t she?”

 

“She wants you safe. So do I. I’ll call you later.” Starting the engine, he left.

 

An hour later, after a couple of stops, he pulled his car into his usual parking place, punched in the code and took the elevator up to the loft, relieved when he saw nothing left at his door.

 

Going in he checked the answering machine—twelve calls. Three from Michael, two from Justin worried that he got home safely, one from his cunt sister which he deleted without listening to and one each from Lindsay, Emmett, Molly, her coach, Jennifer, Reverend Tom and Vance.

 

He didn’t bother to return any of them just yet.

 

Going to his computer he booted up and was informed that he had mail.

 

He scrolled through the usual crap that he would probably just delete until he came to the one he was afraid would be there: Yourfan@aol.com

 

Shit. He hadn’t wanted to let on to the others, but this wasn’t the kind of thing he found entertaining. He hated being watched—more so than most people did. That was why he chose to live alone, why he didn’t file a flight plan with people. He liked to come and go and come at will on his schedule and it was no one’s fucking business.

 

Well, shit. He hit ‘read’. It was dated today, about forty-five minutes ago.

 

 

 

Dera Brian,

 

Did you like the flowers I sent you? I hope that you don’t mind that I sent them to your office, but I was afraid that if they delivered them to your home you wouldn’t get them and they might die.

 

I was picturing how pretty they would look on your desk or maybe on the coffee table by your white couch in your loft. I hope you like them.

 

You are just so terrific with those kids this morning. I was really enjoying watching you out there on the field, the way you move. You’re beautiful, of course, but you’re also the most graceful man I’ve ever seen—and the looks on their faces—priceless! You looked so great in those jeans and that light blue shirt really shows off what a great body you have.

 

They all want to grow up to marry you and their mothers (those cunts) all want a piece of you first.

 

But they can’t have you, we both know that.

 

Oh, and I took some more pictures—you look so relaxed. I hope that you like them.

 

I was thinking that you’d look so great on a beach, just lying on a blanket on the sand. That’s what I was thinking of this morning—you with no bathing suit and just getting as tan as anything on some perfect beach somewhere. Wouldn’t that be great?

 

I saw you with Justin. I saw the way you put your hands on him and the way he looks at you. It almost made me puke.

 

God, Brian, I’d never criticize you, you know that, but he’s not the right person for you to be with. I know that he’s sort of cute and all, but he was mean to you and hurt you and now he’s just pretending that he likes you and I’m just so afraid that he’ll hurt you again.

 

I couldn’t stand it if he did. I hated when he did that the last time at the Rage party and I was just so mad at him. I almost said something to him, but after going home and calming down, I didn’t, but maybe I should have.

 

I was so worried about you after he was so mean to you. You looked so sad and that made me sad, too. I wanted to write you a letter then, to try to make you feel better, but I thought you would wonder who I was and what I wanted from you.

 

Honest, Brian. I don’t want anything from you. Everyone wants things from you—Justin and Lindsay and Michael and all the others, but I don’t. All I want is that you’re as happy as you deserve to be.

 

You’re such a good person and you’ve had so many sad things happen to you.

 

I know that your parents and your sister were mean to you and sometimes even Debbie isn’t too nice, even though I think she likes you a lot. Michael is always wanting things from you and so are Lindsay and Melanie.

 

The one who always wants the most is Justin—he’s so spoiled. He wants you all the time. He wants to live with you and you pay his tuition and you buy him clothes and things. Most of all you give him you. You give him your time and your attention and you let him have your body to use. I’ve seen you two at Babylon and it used to make me glad that you looked like you were happy with him. I’d see you two dancing and talking and sometimes I’d follow when you went into the back room with him and I’d watch you fuck him against a wall or something. You looked happy then.

 

But then that little bitch left with that slimy guy and you looked so sad. I wanted to walk over and give you a hug so that you’d know that someone cared about you, but I got scared that you wouldn’t like it if I did that, so I just watched you looking sad.

 

When I went home that night I cried.

 

I was so worried about you.

 

Then when you decided to let Justin have another chance—I wasn’t surprised because you’re such a good person and you would never hurt someone—I was real concerned that he was trying to use you and that you’d get hurt again.

 

I’m still afraid of that and if he does hurt you, I’ll be really upset.

 

I hope that we can be friends.

 

Yourfan

 

 

 

The door buzzer rang, he jumped about three feet. Shit.

 

Walking over, he pressed the button. “Yes?”

 

“Kinney? I have a delivery.”

 

“I didn’t order anything.”

 

“Whatever. If you’re Brian Kinney, I have a package for you.”

 

“Where from?”

 

“Rive Gauche—you know, Yves St. Laurent.”

 

“Yeah, I know. Fine. Top floor.”  He pressed the door release. The guy came up, handed him a wrapped box, thanked him for the tip and left.

 

He opened the gift card taped to the top. “I thought that this would look perfect on you. Yourfan”

 

Lifting the lid, he found an exquisite shirt in a rich dark sapphire. It was made of the softest silk Brian had ever felt and flowed like mercury as it moved. It was incredible.

 

He was still looking at it when the metallic voice told him that he had mail. He went to look: Yourfan@aol.

 

He hit ‘read’.

 

 

 

Dear Brian,

I really hope that you like the shirt. I know you just got it. Maybe you could wear it the next time you go to Babylon? You’d look hot.

 

Yourfan.

 

 

He was still holding the shirt when the phone rang. He looked at the caller ID. Justin.

 

“Yeah?”

 

“Brian? Can you come over here?” He sounded like he was almost in tears. He could hear Jennifer in the background saying something about how they had to call the police.

 

“Justin? What’s going on?”

 

“There was a box on the front steps when we got home. It was…pretty bad.”

 

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