If It Made Sense, It Wouldn't Be a Mystery, Would It?

Chapter 4

POV: BRIAN

We pull up to Deb's house. Thank God Justin's Mom got both cars in the divorce- Craig had gone and bought a new Mustang right after moving out, so he had been glad to leave the family transport behind. Still, it's a fucking Buick Skylark and I feel like a fucking ass driving it, but Jennifer is nice enough to let me borrow it until I can either get my 'Vette back or afford a new car, so I really shouldn't complain. But. Well. That isn't going to stop me. I mean, it's a goddamned Skylark. I kill the engine and look over towards the Novotny home. Although I hadn't expected anything less than what I see, all I can do is stare. Despite it being broad daylight, the entire house is lit up like a fucking Christmas tree. There's a banner over the door, "WE STOPPED STOCKWELL!!" in the colors of the rainbow, with multi-colored lights hanging in stringy clumps from the porch gutter, and huge rainbow flags dangling from the porch railing. I roll my eyes. Justin follows my gaze to see what I'm looking at.

"Jesus!" He mutters.

"Yeah, well… this is the Novotny's, remember."

"It should read, 'Brian Kinney stopped Stockwell', you know that?" Justin grins after a few moments.

"Bullshit. You're worse than Debbie." I pull on the door handle, "Ok, let's get this over with." We get out and climb the steps. I have to duck to miss getting ensnared in a tangled string of lights that had become unhooked from the gutter. We can hear the laughter and chatter inside and I hesitate before pressing the doorbell. I look at Justin, who shrugs. I sigh and push the button.

The door swings open and Deb is there with a huge grin on her face, her cheeks flushed with wine. "THE MAN OF THE HOUR!" She practically screams, and she yanks me into a smothering hug that makes me wonder how Michael ever survived childhood. I thank God I'm too tall for her to totally engulf me. Warm smells of garlic bread and marinara sauce waft out of the door and envelope Justin and me. She releases me and grips my arms beaming with what I assume to be pride as a tear slides down her cheek. I find myself looking down self-consciously and scuffing at an imaginary pebble with the toe of my boots. Gawd, sometimes she has this way of making me feel 14 all over again. I hate it. Usually. She then turns her attention to Justin. "SUNSHINE!" She exclaims and takes him into a hug that rivals a wrestling hold. I lose sight of his face and begin to worry if he can breathe, but she finally lets him go. I notice him gasping as she spins around and gestures for us to go inside. "Enter-- to our victory brunch!!" She cries.

We follow her in. "Justin," I hiss under my breath. He glances at me. "Why... why the fuck did she say I'm the man of the hour?" I can feel my teeth clench.

He shrugs. "Maybe Mikey told her?" He whispers.

'Fuck!' I think, shuddering. This is the last thing I need. We'll never get the fuck out of here.

Jennifer, Ben, Vic, Rodney, Mel, Linds, and Emmett are sitting around the living room with full plates and glasses of wine. Gus is apparently upstairs napping. When they see us, they all cheer. I wince. Fuck. Justin is grinning.

"Go fill up a plate, pour yourselves some wine, and join us!!" Vic says. Justin and I head to the kitchen.

"Jesus," I mutter, looking at the spread. "This looks more like an Italian restaurant exploded than a brunch- and where are the croissants, the pastries, the mimosas?"

Justin ignores me, happily piling his plate with pasta, bread, salad, fruit, and whatever else he can scoop onto the plate without it spilling off. "Ooooo! Chicken parmesan!" he coos, digging into the platter eagerly.

His plate brimming, Justin turns to me, waiting for me to finish serving myself. "So, where's Ted?" he whispers.

"I heard he checked himself into rehab." I answer. Mikey had called me for a very brief chat the other day and told me. As much as I rag on Theodore, and as much of a schmuck as I believe him to be, I don't hate him. And he was really going off the deep end there, for awhile. At least he's not so much of a loser to not do something about it-I had been concerned for Emmett, actually. So, whatever it was that precipitated his change of direction towards recovery, I'm quietly glad for both of them. Quietly. Ted's still a schmuck.

We get back into the living room and sit on the rug, the only sitting room available. "Here, sit here!" Debbie says, getting up and pulling on my arm till I almost spill my plate. "Vic, get up! Let Justin have your chair!"

"I'm fine, Deb. I am- this is fine, really!" I insist. Jesus Christ. Justin, his mouth full having already started in on the huge helping on his plate, mumbles something about the floor being fine for him too.

"But you deserve a chair at least- it was you and your ad that DID it- that pushed US over the TOP and STOCKWELL into OBLIVION! I knew you wouldn't- couldn't- go through with helping that fucking homophobe win, Brian Kinney!" She exclaims. Everyone is looking at me, smiling brightly. Even fucking Justin has looked up from his plate to grin at me. Asshole.

"And YOU, Sunshine!" she continues-ha- he can't escape attention either! Although, he loves it. "You're as much of a hero as Brian, here- with your brilliant posters!" Lindsay interjects a hearty, "Here! Here!" at that, and the whole room claps. Even me; payback, I figure. But, honestly, the posters really were good. "And," Deb continues, clapping Justin on the back, which starts him coughing, "...that scheme to undermine Stockwell's hypocritical appearance at the Gay and Lesbian Center- that was damned near genius!!" I cringe inwardly.

Dammit, Deb, you know better.

Justin recovers from his coughing fit, his face pink, and clears his throat. "Actually, Deb, I think you know…" I shoot him a glare, "I think you know that Brian…" I hiss under my breath, 'don't you fucking dare…' Justin glances at me and hesitates, clearing his throat again- but he continues, "…you know that my deep throat was Brian. The coup at the Center was his idea…" He winces and avoids my gaze which, if I had any powers remotely like Rage, would kill him dead right there.

Fucker. I scowl at him. I'm sure he can see me out of the corner of his eye, but he pretends to be focused on forking up a mouthful of chicken parmesan. 'Course, knowing him and food, he may not be pretending. Still, he knows that I'll get him for this later. While I know Deb had suspected the public disgracing of Stockwell at the GLC was my idea, (as she told me, it had the "mark of the master written all over it,")- still, no one else here had seemed to make any connection, which was and is precisely how I had wanted it.

At Justin's little revelation, everyone glances at each other, surprised. Everyone, that is, except for Justin, Deb and Lindsay. Lindsay looks at me with a knowing smile on her face. 'I knew it, Brian,' she mouths. She raises her glass quietly to me, and takes a sip. Then I see her turn her attention to the room, raising her glass again. I shoot her a fierce glare. "To Brian, savior of Liberty Avenue!" She cheers. I swear, I have to work on my nonverbal 'shut the FUCK up' look. It doesn't seem to work as well as it used to…

"Here, here!" Everyone shouts- even Justin. Even fucking Mel, I notice. Even Jen! They all take a drink, and quite literally, I want to get up, go to the door and leave. But instead, I try to dampen the moment.

"Yeah, well. Fuck that. Justin did as much or more than I did. And Stockwell IS still the Chief of Police, you know." I add, not drinking. And, I think to myself, now he has a serious axe to grind with the gay "community".

"But he ain't mayor!" Deb says loudly, chortling. Everyone clinks glasses again and drinks.

Ok, so this has got to stop. "So…" I venture, "Ben, have you heard from Mikey and Hunter? I could use my wheels back, you know…."

That was the one topic that could have deflected attention off of me, and I'm grateful that I thought of it. Not that it hadn't been on my mind anyway.

"Ben says they called from a gas station in Altoona not long ago," Debbie interjects, before Ben can say anything.

"Are they ok? Where are they going to go?" Justin asks.

"I have a cousin in Blue Balls…" Ben says; Justin glances at me and I wink, mouthing, 'yes, that IS a real town'- Justin barely suppresses a laugh. Ben continues, oblivious, "... he and his wife are going to put them up tonight. We'll have to plan what happens after that tomorrow. We just don't know. Hunter's mother is fucking furious. And I suspect I may be brought in for questioning tonight or tomorrow regarding their whereabouts…"

I sigh. Hunter really put his ass on the line. I have to respect that kid. As fantastic and controversial as Justin's posters were, there's no way Stockwell would have lost if it weren't for the evidence Hunter had gathered. Although, I must admit, he was downright stupid in how he collected it. I shake my head, recalling Mikey screaming at Hunter after I'd taken him home, 'YOU FUCKED A MURDERER?????' And Mikey was sure pissed at me, thinking I'd put him up to it.

Justin echoes my thoughts. "You know, without Hunter, we never would have been able to put those pieces together about Jason Kemp's death. If he'd never gotten that sperm sample and the identity of the cop, we'd never have been able to make the link that it had been Stockwell's ex-partner … and now the poor kid has to go through all of this with his goddamned mother. He's as much of a hero as Brian is…"

Inwardly I roll my eyes. 'The poor kid' - ha! Justin is only about 3 years older than Hunter. Which actually is rather sobering to me, so I push it out of my mind. Besides, if there were ever a more mature 19 year-old than Justin, I'd be surprised.

However, I wish to hell he'd quit it with the hero shit. I just got everyone to stop thinking about that nonsense…

"I just can't believe that cop ended up killing himself - after nearly a year since the boy was found dead! You'd have thought he'd have killed himself sooner if he'd felt that badly about it." Jen points out. Thank you, Jen, for staying on topic, I think to myself.

"Well, he'd just learned that he was going to be linked to that death, Mom- and that it was going to go public- not only about murdering Kemp, but also about the fact that he was gay, himself."

"Still," Rodney says, chewing on a bite of garlic bread, "why… why would he wash his car in the garage, then blow his brains out all over it...?"

I'm thinking about what Rodney is saying, remembering how odd it had seemed to me when Horvath had told me about the suicide. I mean, really, it shouldn't have seemed that peculiar- as Justin said, he was about to be exposed as a murderer and he was about to be blown right out of the closet. But there was something that just felt off about it. Out of the corner of my eye, I see Justin looking at me - more intently than I consider warranted. I snap out of it and fork up a piece of fruit.

Everyone is quiet for a moment. At this rate, we'll be here all fuckin' afternoon.

"Well, whatever the fuck…" I interrupt the silence on purpose, hoping to get the chit-chat over with, and ideally, the afternoon festivities, as well. So, why not be brutally honest?: "Let's finish eating and get this over with, shall we?"

I see the men exchanging glances with small grins on their mouths. But Mel, Lindsay, Debbie, Jen-all the women roll their eyes. But only Mel speaks up. She's so consistent, that bitch...

"Prick…" she mutters, loudly enough for everyone, especially me, to hear. I briefly flash my best shit-eating grin in her direction and take a bite of pasta. I see Lindsay give her a look and whisper something I can barely hear- but it's something along the line about how I always have hated this kind of attention. Really, besides Mikey, Lindsay really has always known me better than anyone.

"Right, everyone! Dig in!" Debbie urges, "We still have dessert!"

"Let me guess," Justin whispers in my ear, and we roll our eyes, smiling at each other as we simultaneously mouth, 'lemon bars'.

"She'll have Cool Whip, too," I whisper quietly.

"I baked up some fresh lemon bars! AND: I have Cool Whip!" Deb exclaims.

Justin and I collapse in laughter, both trying unsuccessfully to contain ourselves- after a few seconds, Justin is nearly choking on a bite of chicken.

I notice Debbie and a few of the others looking at us curiously before resuming their meals. At this moment, I feel every bit as teenaged as Justin. Gawd.

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