Pulling Strings

When Brian had entered the loft late that afternoon, he saw something that surprised him and caused him to grit his teeth ever so slightly and to do some wondering too. But he didn’t say anything.

Justin was in the kitchen. “I’m preparing something special,” he called in to Brian.

“I bet you are,” Brian answered.

And Justin had prepared a lot of Brian’s favorite stuff. Brian enjoyed the meal even as he wondered just what was going on in the twink’s head. After the dinner, Brian quickly sat himself down in front of the flickers of the fake fireplace and waited for the kid to join him. He didn’t have to wait long. It was a while though before anybody said anything.

“OK,” Brian finally spoke. “What the hell is going on?”

“I guess you’re talking about the guitar,” Justin supposed.

“I am talking about the guitar,” Brian affirmed. “The guitar that should be in the storage room but is now sitting on the couch. I figure it didn’t get there by itself. I was wondering if maybe you had anything to do with where it is.”

“Yeah,” Justin said. “I guess I brought it out.”

“I suppose you want me to sing you a love song?” Brian joked. “I can’t imagine you brought it over here so I could break it over your head.”

“Never in my wildest dreams would I think you’d sing me a love song,” Justin joked back. “Remember how well I know you, Mr. Kinney, Sir. Justin Taylor would never even hope to hear a love song from you. He has high hopes but he’s not crazy. I do hope though that you won’t break it over my head though – at least not right away.”

“But Justin Taylor had some reason to go fetch that guitar, Baby,” Brian reasoned. “Justin Taylor never does anything without a reason even if that reason sometimes happens to be wacky. I think it’s time for Justin to tell Brian what the hell is going on.”

“OK, Bri,” Justin agreed. “But let me tell the whole story before you decide to break the guitar over my head. It’s not a real short story.”

“I’ll try, Sweetheart,” Brian told him. “And I love you, you know that, but remember I always tell you that half the people who get murdered get murdered by somebody who loves them.”

“Thanks for making this a lot easier for me, Honey,” Justin told him. “I really appreciate your understanding. It’s just that I was over to see Gus this afternoon. Did you know that Mel and Linz got a new electronic keyboard? They both play pretty well. Nobody ever told me that.”

“You got me, Baby,” Brian laughed. “Every morning when I get up, I say to myself. ‘I have to keep the big secret from Justin. He must never know that Mel and Linz can play the keyboard.’”

“Well it just makes me wonder how many secrets are being kept from me,” Justin replied. “Anyhow, I tried it out. It’s a neat contraption. You knew I could play. I keep no secrets from you.”

“No you don’t,” Brian mocked slightly, “which is the reason I know just why you got my guitar out of storage.”

“I’m trying to tell you, Bri,” Justin protested. “Give me a chance. Anyhow, Gus was impressed with how all of us could play the keyboard. He got out his violin and we played some stuff together.”

“The picture is not getting any clearer,” Brian protested back. “It takes you a long time to make a long story short.”

“Cut it out, Bri,” Justin laughed. “Anyhow, Gus finally said that we all could play a musical instrument – everybody but you, he said.”

“The picture is getting a little clearer,” Brian admitted. “Not necessarily any better, but a little clearer.”

“So I reminded him that you did play an instrument,” Justin pretended he had not been interrupted. “That you played the guitar and that you were real good at it too.”

“Geez,” Brian complained. “Now you’ve ruined the secret that I was always hoping to keep from Gus. It seems I can’t have any secrets at all.”

Justin was ignoring all interruptions. “Anyhow, Bri, Gus was really happy about that. Seems Gus has become a real fan of the old Gene Autry television show on one of the western channels,” he continued. “He likes singing cowboys and he really wants you to play for him. He wants to hear some cowboy songs.”

“Cowboy songs?” Brian reacted. “Cowboy songs. Yuck. It wouldn’t even be so bad if he wanted Elvis or the Beatles, but cowboy songs?”

“What’s the matter with cowboy songs, Bri?” Justin wanted to know. “You watch those Gunsmoke reruns on TV a lot. They’re westerns and big bad Kinney likes them.”

“So you tell me if you ever heard Matt Dillon singing, wise guy,” Brian responded. “No self-respecting cowboy is going to stop tracking down the rotten crooked varmints to sing some crazy song. I guess you told Gus that I’d be glad to play for him and sing him some cowboy songs, figuring you can get me to do anything you want.”

“Well the cowboys didn’t have much to do when they were sitting around the campfire at night – no TV or anything - so I can see why they might sing a little bit. And I certainly did not either tell Gus you’d play for him,” Justin defended himself. “I told him I’d mention it to you and maybe you’d do it if you wanted to. That’s exactly what I told him.”

“And did you tell him just when I’d be doing this stuff - if I wanted to, that is?” Brian grinned at the kid.

“Well we’re supposed to go over there on Saturday anyhow,” Justin reasoned, “So maybe I mentioned that maybe we could do it then.”

“And do you want to tell me the strategy of just leaving the guitar on the couch?” Brian asked Justin. “That gave me time to prepare myself for whatever. Wouldn’t it have been easier just to spring the idea on me without any warning?”

“Gee whiz, Brian,” Justin complained. “I wasn’t trying to spring anything on you. I might have been hoping that you’d see the guitar and want to pick it up and play it. I was trying to avoid any kind of argument. I don’t want to argue with you. I just want to sit here with you and maybe pretend that you love me. Can’t we just do that?”

“Nope,” Brian told him emphatically. “I want you to call Linz and tell her we’re coming over right now to play for Gus. We’re headin’ for the last round-up. It’s only seven o’clock and Gus doesn’t go to bed till nine. We have plenty of time.”

“I don’t think that’s such a good idea at all, Bri,” Justin decided. “You’re just trying to make me feel guilty. I think Saturday would be better. Can’t we just sit here tonight – like I said? I want to make sure you’re not mad. I don’t want you to be mad at me.”

“You know what, Baby,” Brian told him. “I’m going to pull rank this time. We’re gonna do this my way for once. I want you to call Linz. That’s an order. We’ll do the guitar thing for Gus tonight. Then we’ll come back here as soon as Gus goes to bed – and just maybe I’ll feel like singing you a love song in front of our very own fake campfire. Might be a little bit off-key – but I kind of think that’s what I might want to do.”

“Hand me the telephone,” Justin responded with a lot more enthusiasm that he had been showing previously. Common sense told him he had lost an argument - but Justin wasn’t sure common sense was always the right way to go.
 

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