Water Torture

The fireplace was lit and the guys were settling into place. Brian suspected that Justin had a bone to pick with him and he was absolutely right. And Justin wasted no time in beginning to pick that bone.

“False representation is what that was, Kinney,” he complained. “You deliberately tricked me. If I pulled something like that on you, you’d be screaming to high heaven – and you’d have every right to.”

“Baby,” Brian defended himself. “I can’t help it if you’re so damn lovable. It was not my fault. I never told you anything I didn’t believe was the truth – the whole truth – and nothing but the truth – so help me….”

“You’re just lucky I’m not the vengeful type, Kinney,” Justin informed him. “Or I’d think of something….”

”Geez, Baby,” Brian told him. “I don’t think it’s all that bad anyhow – and it’s not my fault either. I can’t help it if everybody loves you. You could try to be more like me and then everybody would hate you like they do me.”

“Oh cut it out, Kinney,” Justin grinned in spite of himself. “Everybody doesn’t hate you – just me – and maybe I’ll get over it someday. Maybe, that is.”

“It seems to me that you told me on the phone Sunday night that you were glad you had gone to New York for that week-end show,” Brian recalled. “And you knew I couldn’t go with you – much as I wanted to.”

“You couldn’t go mostly because you were invited to the annual party on the Mallard’s boat – cruising down the river,” Justin accused him. “And you told me that if I went to New York, I could miss that fiasco this year – and that’s why I decided to go. That’s what you told me – and you know that’s what you told me too.”

“And that’s exactly what I thought when I told you that,” Brian replied, “But when the boating crowd heard you weren’t gonna be there, they all insisted that we postpone till next weekend. I bet they wouldn’t have postponed it at all if you could come and I had to be in New York. You’re really popular, Honey – probably cause you’re always so nice – and fun to be with.”

"Like now I guess,” Justin laughed. “OK, Kinney, your little trick worked this time – but I’ll be more careful from now on too – and I’m not ruling out the possibility of a little revenge either.”

“Nah,” Brian told him. “You’re too nice…. That’s why everybody loves you – including me….”

And the conversation died off at this point for a considerable period. Justin did not seem to be holding any grudge at all – but Justin was deep, so Brian wasn’t entirely sure. Still it didn’t seem like Justin was holding any grudge. Not at all.

Inevitably though, the conversation did resume.

“Do we have the same old crowd to look forward to, Sweetheart?” Justin asked. “Like last year.”

“Yep,” Brian affirmed. “The Mallards always fly in the same circles. There’ll be the Swann’s….”

"Him puffing that poisonous smoke from his smelly old cigar I guess,” Justin predicted. “I’ll need a double dose of that sea-sickness medicine again.”

“And the Herrings are coming….” Brian continued the roster.

“So she’ll want to sing folk songs,” Justin recalled. “'Black is the Color of Her True Love’s Hair', and Mr. Herring bald as can be – wonder who her true love is. And he’ll accompany on the guitar – in his own inimitable style, no doubt.”

“I don’t think so, Baby,” Brian pointed out. “Not this time. I saw him at the Duquesne Club last week and his arm’s in a sling. Broken, I guess.”

”Probably tried to play too fast, Bri,” Justin conjectured. “Shoulda stuck to folk music.”

“And the Trouts are supposed to come this year too,” Brian continued. “They couldn’t make it last year.”

“Well, I remember them from the year before, Honey,” Justin recalled. “He knows just about everything about everything and he’s a political junkie too. That’ll be awful. I think I’d rather sing folk songs than listen to him explain the political issues – and this is an election year too. Gee whiz, Brian, I may really jump off that boat and swim for shore for sure. I know I threatened to do that last year but this year I actually may do it. Mr. Trout is ….”

“If you jump, Baby,” Brian warned him. “I’m telling you – no lie either - I’m going in after you – to save you from drowning – or whatever. I’m not staying on that boat by myself.”

”By yourself wouldn’t be all that bad, Brian, Honey.” Justin was laughing. “But you won’t be by yourself. You’ll have plenty of company: the Herrings, the Trouts, the Mallards ….”

“But the worst part of it all would be knowing that the guy I love had abandoned me, Sweetheart,” Brian explained. “I could handle the rest but not that….”

“Oh Kinney,” Justin was still laughing. “You are so full of it. OK, so we’re both stuck. They’re your customers and so you’re stuck – and I love you so I’m stuck too. We’ll just make the best of it. It’s only once a year and actually the food is ...”

“Oh, geez, Baby,” Brian remembered. “I’m glad you said that. I almost forgot. Mrs. Mallard says she wants you to call her about the spaghetti. She was wondering about different sauces and she wants to know which one you’d like. She likes you better than she likes me. She didn’t seem to be interested in what kind of sauce I might prefer.”

“Probably figured you wouldn’t know one sauce from the other, Brian Sweetie,” Justin gibed. “So I’ll be glad to call her. That spaghetti is even a little better than Gino’s – and that’s saying a lot – don’t tell Gino I said so. Wonder what kind of sauce she has in mind.”

"Just be sure to remind her she’ll need about four gallons of whatever sauce it is – if you like it, Baby,” Brian gibed back. “Wouldn’t want you to end up hungry – and then there’s the doggie bag you’ll be bringing home too.”

“You know, Kinney,” Justin told him. “You tricked me into going to New York – and now I’m still going on this river cruise with you – and you’re still picking on me. Doesn’t matter how nice I am. I guess I should be used to it by now.”

“Well don’t be eating on that spaghetti while we’re singing the folk songs either, Kiddo,” Brian was on a roll. “We’ll be singing a capella with Trout’s arm out of whack - and we’ll be needing your perfect pitch to guide us through those sea shanties. Yo-Ho-Ho….”

“You know what, Brian,” Justin countered. “Maybe not. Maybe we won’t be singing a capella at all. I’ll be talking to Mrs. Mallard about the spaghetti sauce. And you know what else, I know a guitar player who can play as well as Mr. Trout any day of the week. I could tell Mrs. Mallard that….”

“I thought you said earlier that you weren’t the vengeful type, Sweetheart,” Brian retaliated. “I’m sure I heard you say that….”

“Gee whiz, Bri,” Justin replied. “That wouldn’t be vengeance at all. I’d just be trying to insure that our genial hosts have the best party possible. That’s why everybody loves me. I’m always so helpful. Want me to get your guitar out of the storage room after while. That’d save you a trip – and that way you’d have a couple of days to practice too. See how helpful I am.”

“You know what, Twink, I bet I could convince you not to mention any particular guitar player’s name to Mrs. Mallard,” Brian oozed confidence as he tightened hid grip around the kid. “I bet I could – if I decided to. Yeah, I’m sure I could.”

“Well, I guess you could try, Sweetheart,” Justin challenged him, edging himself in closer to the guy sitting next to him. “I guess you won’t know if you could or not - till you try.”

So Brian decided maybe that course of action was worth a try – so he did try - and, in the process of Brian’s trying, any thoughts of revenge completely vanished from Justin’s mind – at least for the moment.

 

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