You Had Me at ... Later

Ted looked meaningfully down the length of the bar toward the dour figure who was nursing a scotch. After a pregnant pause, he looked back at Emmett, who was sitting on the bar stool next to him and asked in a low voice, “How long has he been drinking today?”

Emmett spoke in an even lower tone, after an even more dramatic look of concern, to which he added a sigh worthy of Greta Garbo at her most languid in Camille.  “Too long, he’s been....”

“Drinking not hardly long enough to put up with bullshit from two nelly bottoms like you with equilibrium, so shut the fuck up.” 

Debbie joined Brian in laughing as Ted and Emmett literally squeaked and jumped like scared mice. They skittered away to a table in a corner on the far side of the bar and put menus up to hide their faces while they continued to gossip.

Debbie grabbed the bottle of Beam and a glass and came around the bar to sit next to Brian, a broad grin on her face as she nodded toward the other two men..

“They remind me of you and Michael when you were little, hiding behind your comic books when you were up to mischief.” She poured him a generous portion of whiskey, and about twice as much into her own glass then sat down with a satisfied grunt. Bartending was as hard on the feet as waitressing but the extra shifts came in handy.  These days it seemed like everything cost more and the truth was, drinkers tipped better than most diner customers. Take Brian, even after he lost his position at Vangard due to that dirty double-crossing bastard Vance manipulating their partnership agreement and sticking Brian with the partnership’s debts while he kept all the paying clients after they were forced to dissolve.

Brian nodded his thanks for the drink. After a deep swallow, he asked, “How so? I know Mikey used to be a genuine little comic nerd, but moi? Surely even at my most pre-adolescent, amorphous stage, I was never like Temmett. If I was, don’t tell me. I might have to slice my wrists after all.” 

After all that he had been through, you had to give the guy credit, Brian could still laugh at himself, Deb thought, admiring the way he raised one auburn eyebrow and gave his cocky half-smile. She returned it with one of her softer, more genuine smiles back, the kind he loved to earn when he was a boy.

“I was thinking more of the way you two would always think you were out of sight, out of mind, if you could block me from your view. Just like little tykes you were, and soon enough, you’d get caught up in your stories and really forget whatever trouble it was you’d been getting into. So I was happy enough to play along. Ah, seems like yesterday some days, and other days....”

“It feels like a million. Know what you mean. At least Mikey’s hanging in there. The store is staying afloat.”

“Barely.  I don’t know where they’d be if the University didn’t give partners medical benefits. Ben has enough seniority to be safe from budget cuts, thank God, even if it does mean he’s back to teaching more courses in Comparative British Literature, without the homoerotic overtones.”

“Like that’s possible.” Brian’s grin was a bit broader and Debbie laughed out loud. They clinked glasses.  The TV over the bar was switched to the Sundance channel by the other bartender. An interview with a young Olympic ice skater was airing. The athlete was handsome, talented, and vivacious. His performances at the 2010 Olympics had been breathtaking – and yet he failed to medal.

He was gay. He had legions of fans who didn’t give a damn, but the judges weren’t so “broad-minded.” Or even fair-minded. There was some question whether a couple of the judges could even lay claim to owning minds. So, his teammate, a technically excellent but dull skater won gold. Skaters who fell down came in ahead of our hero, who proceeded to show the world what class and style was, in his grace under fire and in supposed defeat. Jamie Trier was a true champion, in every sense of the word. 

In this interview, as in every one he’d given since the Olympics, he charmed with his wit and intelligence.

“Shame that kid got robbed of a medal, let alone the gold he deserved. All that work and he can’t cash in. Meanwhile, the guy who did win...what’s his name, with the nose...who wants to look at him? He’s boring on Dancing with the Stars! The little speed skater was more fun to watch than the figure skater, what’s wrong with that picture!” She laughed her usual guffaw.

“He’s a natural for commercials,” Brian commented. “They’re stupid not to be picking him up to sell everything from vacuums to hair spray and flowers. If I were his agent, I’d have him placed in six national commercials within the month.”

“Sounds good, you’re hired,” a charming voice answered him lightly. Swinging around, Debbie shrieked in shock, making Brian, as well as the newcomer and his entire entourage wince.

“Sorry,” she said. “But you, you, you’re....” She pointed toward the TV, but at that moment, the channel had just been switched again and a promo spot for Sarah Palin’s new show was airing. Brian couldn’t help laughing at the comical look of dismay on the good-looking young skater’s face. Brian gave the entourage a look which happened to coincide with the look Jamie was giving them after he got a better look at the man who’d said he could get him some endorsements – both looks said, “Give us some time alone.”

The entourage scurried in a manner strikingly similar to Ted and Emmett’s.

The skater looked pleased. “So, did you say that you could manage to get me endorsements for vacuum cleaners? I love vacuum cleaners. But I could only endorse really good ones, no cheap, hand-held types that don’t suck well.”  A bright smile accompanied the emphatic nod that gave emphasis to his comments. 

Brian nodded toward the bar stool. “Later. If I were to become an agent. Which I’m not. But if I were, I’d be happy to sign you on, as any half decent one should be able market you six ways to...” Brian paused and his own quirky smile flashed. “Maybe not six ways to Sunday but definitely five ways to Friday.”

“Tell me more, tall dark and devastatingly handsome.”

“I’m not an agent.”

“He’s just the best damn ad man who ever lived.” Debbie put in her two cents worth as she set a cosmopolitan down in front of Jamie. “On the house. And if you want something even better for free, my advice is, hire him, he’s the best.”

Jamie tasted the drink and then touched his fingertips to his lips in a flourishing air kiss.

“The drink is divine...and I am betting that the advice is even better.”

Brian considered the young man smiling up at him. He had an almost pixie quality, with sparkling eyes that held a touch of wistfulness. He was boyishly slim, but moved with an athlete’s sure grace and Brian knew from watching his performances – and from his often revealing costumes –  that his body was all toned muscle.

The blue eyes were looking at him directly. “Will you be my agent?”

“I am very drunk,” Brian stated, more as a passing comment on his state of being than in answer to the question. Jamie seemed to understand it as such because he smiled even more brightly.

“Brilliant! Give me thirty minutes and I’ll be right there with you.”

Brian signaled for another round.

****************

(One week later)

Jamie Trier burst into the bar, minus his entourage this time, not that you noticed, Brian thought, swinging partially around at the noise of the doors hitting the wall. The boy did know how to make an entrance all on his own, he thought appreciatively.  Jamie was dressed in haute couture, with a fur cape keeping out the chill from a late spring snowfall. It was Pittsburgh, after all.

“You!” Jamie exclaimed dramatically, pointed a glittering gloved finger at Brian, who leaned back on his bar stool, stretched out his mile long legs, and placed his tongue firmly in his cheek, while assuming his best, “You talking to me?” expression.

“Yes, you!” Jamie said, correctly interpreting the expression. Then, to the delight of Debbie and the rest of the afternoon bar crowd, Jamie did a triple spin and leapt onto Brian’s lap.

“I LOVE you!  Love, love, love you!!!! Hoover outbid Orbeck! How perfectly awesome is that? And the Dirt Devil anteed up even more! I so want to be a dirt devil! I can work with a good hand held!”

Jamie wrapped his arms around Brian’s neck and began to show his deep appreciation for the way Brian had negotiated the first of many endorsement offers that were coming in – the personal touch being a nice addition to Brian’s healthy percentage of the large fees he was generating for his client, of course.

“So, I win you with a little devilish sucking,” Brian said, straight-faced.

Jamie held Brian’s face in his gloved hands. “Beautiful man, you had me with your first, ‘Later.’”

Across the bar, Ben was entering with a colleague from the university. Mac Williams was a brilliant natural history scholar and talented, witty writer – in need of a good agent.  The shy, bookish professor’s most recent novel was being picked by Oprah as her first “serious” book, and Mac was in need of protection against the barracudas.

Ben couldn’t think of anyone better equipped to do that than his husband’s best friend, defender of justice for gays, Rage himself.

Mac took one look at the incredibly stunning bird of prey with the dazzling bird of paradise on his lap and said, “It looks like this agent has his hands...and other parts...full at the moment.”

Ben laughed and put his arm over Mac’s shoulders. “Don’t worry, Mac, if there is one thing Brian  is even better at than marketing a product, it is keeping multiple men happy. Let’s grab some beers and when there’s an opening, Deb will give us the sign to come over.”

Brian looked up just then and his eyes met Mac’s. They both smiled; Mac swore Brian’s lips whispered, “Later.”

Of course, it was only natural that Ben thought Mac was speaking to him when the startled professor murmured, “I think that’s a very good idea.”

Meanwhile, on the other side of the bar, two dark-haired, green-eyed men were having a somewhat similar conversation.  Obviously brothers, one looked to be in his mid-thirties, and was dressed in the business casual of a teacher or manager. The other had a wilder, younger looking version of the same looks, with long hair past his shoulders and full, sensual lips. His tight sleeveless shirt revealed a chiseled chest and abs, while his snug jeans were drawing lustful looks from all the men who managed to drag their eyes away from Brian long enough to see what else the room had to offer. 

“Is that really your old roommate, Joey? Now I’m really pissed off you never invited me up for little brother weekends at Penn State!”  The younger brother licked his lips and purred, peeking through his lashes mischievously at his brother to gauge his reaction. It was about what he’d expected as Joey laughed and then cuffed him in a gesture of brotherly rebuke...and love.

“Down brat! That type of behavior is exactly why you were never invited, Danny boy,” Joey O’Keefe said.  “Be good and don’t embarrass me for thinking of you when Brian gave me a call and said he’s going to give being an agent a try – you need a decent agent. One who won’t tell you to hide who you are but will make the most of your....”

“Ass...ets,” Danny asked, tongue in cheek.

“You sure have an ass worth assessing, sugar,” Debbie said, standing next to the two men. “Now what can I get you two handsome hunks while you wait for Mr. Kinney, Agent to the Gay and Famous, to see you?”

Before Joey could answer, Danny said, his green eyes sparkling as he pointed toward Jamie Trier, who was in the middle of a passionate kiss with his new agent, “I’ll have what he’s having.”

Once again, Brian happened to look up at just the right moment, and hazel eyes met green, holding for a long beat. Then Danny smiled and turned back to Debbie.

“But for now, a beer will do.” 

Return to Challenge