The Show Must Go On

It started out to be a quiet Thursday evening. Then Justin came rushing into the loft. "Turn the fireplace on, Brian," he fairly shouted.

"We don't have time for any fireside chats right now, Baby," Brian replied, "We have to get started for Debbie's in twenty minutes. "If we're late, there may not be enough spaghetti left to satisfy your gourmet appetite."

"This can't wait," Justin insisted. "I need to ask you something and I need all the help I can get."

"If you need all the help you can get, Sweetheart," Brian responded, "It's a sure bet I'm going to need all the help I can get in a minute or so. OK, we light the fireplace."

The usual quiet time was dispensed with and Justin began the conversation. "Brian, we have a big problem at school and I told Malcolm and Devon that I'd try to help them with it."

"Thank God, I'm not involved," Brian told him, not believing for a moment that he was not going to become involved.

"Actually, I guess you just might be involved," Justin went on. "Jason was injured in an car accident this morning. He has a concussion and doesn't even remember who he is."

"I don't even have a concussion," Brian laughed, "And I don't remember who he is, do I?"

"Yeah you do," Justin reminded him, "He was in the Hamlet that we saw a few weeks back, He played Laertes. You mouthed the lines along with him. Remember?"

Now Brian began to feel uneasy. "Yeah," he remembered. "So?"

"Jerry was with him," Justin continued, "Jerry's leg was broken. Jerry could actually go on in a wheelchair but the doctors don't want him to leave the hospital until they're sure that there aren't any internal injuries."

"Honey, I think you're getting ahead of your story, and I'm not quite following you," Brian told him.

"Brian, I don't see why you don't get it," Justin wondered. "Jason was our Laertes and Jerry was his standby. We don't have a Laertes for the last two performances, tomorrow night and Saturday."

Now Brian was able to follow where Justin was going. He got it all right but he didn't want it. "I'm sure in a big drama school like you guys have, they can find some emergency replacement," he thought out loud.

"The person would only have less than twenty-four hours to learn the part, and all our other actors are preparing for Tartuffe which opens on Tuesday," Justin countered.

"Who did the posters for Tartuffe?" Brian asked.

"Not me, Brian. Actually it was Malcolm," Justin told him, "But we really don't have time to digress, Honey. They want you to do Laertes for the last two performances. You know the lines and Devon will show you the stage business tonight at 9:30, if you'll do it."

"And how did Devon think of me. I don't know Devon and Devon doesn't know me," Brian inquired.

"Honey, we're going to be late getting to Debbie's if you keep wanting all the details," Justin protested, "Malcolm told Devon, and I told Malcolm, but that was two weeks ago after we saw the performance. I was congratulating Malcolm and I just threw that in."

"If Devon and Malcolm hadn't been going together, this might not have come up at all, I guess," Brian wished.

"Brian," Justin informed him, "Malcolm and Devon broke up last week. Malcolm is going with Jack now, but we're all working together. The show must go on."

"I'm beginning to hope the spaghetti's gone and you starve," Brian told him. "I can't just walk in and play Laertes with that gang of good actors. I don't want to."

"Brian, you can do anything. I know you can do this" Justin insisted. "You'll be the best actor on the stage. I'll be so proud of you."

"You might wish you didn't even know me if I trip on my cape and stab myself with my own sword," Brian warned him. "I don't think it's a good idea at all. But you told them I would do it, didn't you?"

"Not exactly," Justin began to explain.

"Forget the crap, Baby," Brian told him, "I'll do it if you want me to. I do remember all the lines. But I'm doing it for you so you owe me. You probably did something to Jason's car so that you'd get to see me play Laertes. Maybe having you there would make me nervous and you shouldn't come."

"Cut it out, Brian," Justin smiled at him, "I'm going to be there both nights, but I'll stay out of the first row so I won't distract you. There are still some things I can learn from you though. I never thought of sabotaging Jason's car."

"What makes you think having you in the first row would distract me?" Brian asked him.

Justin threw both arms around Brian and kissed him. "You are the greatest guy in the world, Bri, and I love you," Justin whispered, "But you still have a mean streak."

"Sweetheart," Brian whispered back, "I am doing this for you but, you know, I am also going to finally meet Malcolm."

"A great big mean streak," Justin repeated as he kissed Brian again.

There was plenty of spaghetti at Debbie's. Justin triumphantly downed more than his share. Brian did two performances of Laertes flawlessly. Justin was proud. He hoped that Brian would not find out that he had smuggled all the gang in to see their friend on stage. Michael had pointed out that, while Brian had been much better in the role of Laertes this time around, the play itself had not improved with age. Brian and Justin had gone to the cast party after the final performance and enjoyed themselves. Brian had made it clear to everyone that those in attendance had seen his farewell stage performance, making very sure that Justin heard him.

When they got back to the loft, the guys were still excited about all the activity. They lit the fireplace and took their usual positions.

"We don't have to rush tonight," Brian proclaimed as they settled in, so they had their quiet time.

"You know, Honey," Brian began to tease Justin, "Malcolm didn't make a play for me at all. I was surprised."

"He said you weren't his type," Justin teased back.

"What do you mean, not his type?" Brian sounded surprised, "I thought his type was any male between puberty and senility. What did he mean, not his type? What was the matter with me?"

"Settle down, Sweetheart," Justin answered, "I'm just kidding. Malcolm was tremendously impressed with you, but I had a talk with Malcolm before you met him. He knew you were off-limits and he promised he'd leave you alone. I'm glad to hear that he did. He told me afterwards that if you ever were available, he'd like to go after you though."

"That's comforting to know," Brian allowed, "Actually, Malcolm is just my type."

"Why would you say that, Brian? That's a mean thing to say," Justin took offense.

"He's young, he's cute, he's smart, he's blond, he's an artist," Brian enumerated.

"Well so am I," Justin replied, sounding hurt.

"What do you think I'm trying you tell you, you silly little twink?" Brian exclaimed. "I love you. You're a young, cute, smart, blond artist. Malcolm's a lot like you but he's not you. He's just like you."

"So I guess if Malcolm had come along first, he would have got you instead of me," Justin complained.

"I don't think so, Baby. It took a lot of single-minded determination to trap me and I doubt if Malcolm has enough of that," Brian assured him.

"I did not 'trap' you, Brian Kinney. I may have pursued you a little but it was for your own good," Justin insisted, "I did not 'trap' you."

"Terminology," Brian allowed.

"So if I got injured or something, you wouldn't grab up Malcolm as a substitute. Don't even think of that, Brian," Justin warned him.

"Now you're telling me the show does not have to go on," Brian laughed as he threw both arms around his one and only young, cute, smart, blond artist.

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