A Matter of Choice
Author's Note: Season 3 and where it should have ended-imho
*****
“Shit! Now what do we do?” Justin asked as he flopped back down onto the
cushions. Brian had just slammed the door on Vance, Stockwell and his career.
“We? We could finish fucking, besides,” Brian retorted, “I’m the one who got
fired.” He lit a cigarette, grabbed an ashtray before joining Justin on the
floor. After giving Justin a glance, Brian got back up then disappeared into the
bedroom for a moment. When he returned, he draped his duvet over Justin who was
shivering. Without thinking, Justin curled himself into the thick blanket then
cuddled close to Brian.
“Maybe I should use my MBA for something else. Get out of advertising
altogether.”
“But you like being an adman,” Justin protested.
“I can buy the diner, bring in real food,” Brian said with a smirk. “Or rent
myself out,” he added. “I’m sure there’s some old fags out there that would pay
me big time for a night,” Brian joked.
“I’m sorry,” Justin whispered not in any mood for joking.
“Why?”
“My fault.”
Brian arched a brow at Justin’s admission. “How do you figure that?” Brian
leaned his head so that he was touching Justin as he blew smoke rings into the
air.
“I should have been more careful, more discreet with the posters.”
“Justin, Pittsburgh may be a big city but it’s still a small town. You have a
very distinctive style. Very recognizable.”
“Really?” Justin asked, suddenly pleased with himself.
“Yeah,” Brian snorted. “And stop fishing.”
“But that still doesn’t answer the question. What are we going to do?”
“WE aren’t going to do anything for the moment. With my contract, Vance can’t
just fire me. He has to buy me out. He’ll pay...a lot. I’m not thoroughly
destitute and I’ve made some wise investments over the years.”
“Stocks?”
“Something like that, but I’ve never trusted the market. Let’s just say my eggs
aren’t all in one basket.”
The boys remained silent, whether from shock or just thinking over their
options. They stayed quiet for some time before Brian got them a couple of
beers.
“Let’s leave,” Brian said as he sat up, straight backed.
“You want to go out now?” Justin asked incredulously.
“No, not leave now, I mean leave. Here. The Pitts. Leave all of this shit behind
us. Leave Vance and his holier than thou attitude. Leave Stockwell and his lies.
Leave these homophobic fuckers. Leave this God forsaken city and start over
somewhere else,” Brian said with such vehemence.
“But what about school? You’ve always pushed me to stay at PIFA. You’re paying
my tuition in case you forgot.”
“Fuck PIFA! You’re always complaining that they’ve been holding you back. That
they don’t get what you’re trying to produce. Fuck ‘em.”
“But where...?”
“Besides New York, where’s the best place in the world for a young gay man to
live how he wants to live and study art without being denigrated for expressing
himself?” Brian posed the question to Justin who stared back at him. Then
Justin’s eyes lit up as did the room with his smile. Brian nodded his head as
his young protégé got it.
“Paris!”
“Got it in one, Sunshine.”
“You want us to go to Paris?”
“Yes.”
“But that means leaving all our friends,” Justin said sadly.
“What friends?”
“What do you mean, what friends? There’s Michael, for one. He’s your best
friend!”
“Is he, Justin?” Brian asked as he grabbed Justin’s shoulders to look him
straight in the eye. “Is he really my best friend? Does he get us, whatever
us, is? Does he ever support us or does he try to get you to leave me and
wishes that I’d stay the asshole that I am?”
“You know?” Justin whispered.
“Of course, I know, Jus. Other than Debbie and Gus, there’s no one I wouldn’t
think twice about leaving.”
“What about Emmett and Ted? They like you.”
“Oh yeah, sure, Rosencrantz and Guildenstern. Those two only like me for my
money or what my influence can do for them. No, Justin, there’s no one to keep
me here. But you have...”
“My mom. How can I leave my mom and Molly?”
“Justin, Jennifer is one hell of a lady but be honest, she has her hands full at
the moment, doesn’t she? She’s getting divorced, trying to make it on her own
and raise a little girl. She’s got a lot on her plate. She’ll cry, beg you not
to go, get mad at me, but in the end she’ll be proud of you for having the balls
to take the chance.”
“You think so?” Justin asked as he searched Brian’s eyes for confirmation.
“I know so.” Justin smiled brightly as he pounced on Brian, knocking them both
backward onto the pillows and almost spilling their beer. “Hey, watch the
duvet!” Brian growled with no anger in his voice.
Justin grabbed Brian’s arms, pinning them down over his head as he kissed the
older man senseless. “So when do we tell them?” Justin asked breathlessly.
“Tell who?”
“Them,” Justin replied cocking his head toward the door indicating the world at
large.
“We don’t.”
“You mean we don’t tell them now.”
“No, I mean we send postcards from the Eiffel Tower.” Justin sat up ready to
argue. “Think about it, Justin. What’ll happen if we tell them our plans?”
“They’ll try to talk us out of it,” Justin whispered. He knew it was the truth.
No one would really understand.
“Exactly. We get our shit together then send them a message as we’re boarding
the plane.”
“What about your loft? You can’t just leave this; you love this place. It’s your
home.”
“We’ll make a new home but I’ll arrange to lease it. We may want it for when we
come back to visit, or Gus might want it when he grows up.”
“Bri, we will come back...to visit?” Justin asked with moist eyes.
“I promise, Justin. We make it big, show these fuckers what two determined,
talented and fabulous fags can do when given the chance and then we come back
for a visit. Maybe give our own slide show.”
Justin burst out laughing then peppered Brian’s face with kisses.
“We can do this, can’t we?” Justin asked pushing back for a minute to gaze into
the deep hazel eyes that he loved so much.
“We can, I know we can. It won’t be easy but I know we can do this.”
“What about Cynthia?”
“What about her?”
“You going to tell her?”
“I’m planning on taking her with us. I’m a brilliant adman, but I’m better with
her. But I need her to stay where she is for a little while longer,” Brian said
as he waggled his eyebrow.
“Ahhh,” Justin said knowingly.
“You with me on this, Sunshine?” Brian asked, hoping Justin wouldn’t back out.
“You can’t get rid of me, remember. I’m your own personal stalker and I have no
intention of stopping now,” Justin said with his brightest sunshine smile.
The lovers gathered up the duvet then went to ‘discuss’ their plans in the
bedroom, in detail. Their discussion took all night long.
*****
2 years later
“Justin, Brian on line two,” said an assistant who came out into the main
gallery to look for Justin. She found him standing by one of his larger pieces.
It had already sold for a very handsome sum.
“Thank you, Christine,” Justin said with a sweet smile as he went to find a
‘house’ phone.
“Brian?”
“Bonjour lumiere du soleil!” Brian greeted Justin with a very bad French accent.
Justin’s laughter echoed through the quiet gallery.
“Someone’s in a good mood.”
“I’m always in a good mood when I’ve landed a ten million dollar account,” Brian
boasted.
“You’re shitting me?”
“Nope, my dear Little Mary Sunshine, I am not. And I’m meeting with a potential
new account in a few minutes. If I never land another account for this year,
we’d still be riding high.”
“And of course you’re going to land this new account,” Justin stated
confidently.
“Brian, Leo is here,” Justin heard Cynthia say in the background.
“You sound busy.”
“Never too busy for you, Justin. Besides, Leo Brown is early.”
“Justin, the members of Fleet Street are here for your interview.” Brian heard
Justin’s assistant whisper.
“You sound busy. Will you be home for dinner?”
“I’ll be home before the wine finishes breathing and the baguettes begin to
cool. I love the Chunnel!”
“Later, Sunshine!”
“Later, Bri. And Brian?”
“Hmm?”
“We made the right choice.”
“Yes, we did, my lumiere du soleil.”
--end--
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