Chapter 14

==================================================================

"Call my travel agent and book me into the best resort in the Bahamas," I tell Cynthia as she follows me into my office. I toss my coat on the chair she was just about to sit on.

She shoots me a look and then moves it to sit down. "Bahamas? Why, is South Beach over?"

"No, Liberty Air is sending me there for a marketing retreat." I sit down at my desk.

"Oh, so this is all work, no play."

I raise my eyebrows at her. "Oh, right. I'll just crack open The Spartacus Guide."

Ryder walks in. "Hey. You got a minute?" he asks.

"Yeah," I reply. "We're just planning my trip."

"Well, you better hold off on that. I'm sending Darren Johnson instead." I sit and look at him. What the fuck? He holds my gaze. "I need for you to go home."

"If you'll just excuse me." Cynthia gets up and beats a hasty retreat.

Ryder shuts the door behind her and then turns to me. "This is just until this whole harassment thing is over."

"Whatever happened to innocent until proven guilty?" I ask him.

"Look, the Liberty Air folks are conservative. What would they think if their account exec was involved in a gay sex scandal?"

"You mean they wouldn't mind a straight one?" I ask. This is such fucking bullshit.

Ryder lets out a deep sigh. "I've also spoken with legal. You're going to be seeing a rep from human resources." I start to laugh. "There's going to be an outside investigation, followed by a tribunal, with an impartial mediator."

"When's the hanging?" I ask him.

He just looks at me. "If I were you, I'd get myself a good lawyer."

He opens the door and finds Cynthia standing there. Trying to listen in, no doubt. He leaves, she leaves, and I try to process what the fuck just happened.

==================================================================

Later at the diner, Mikey can't contain his lecture for one more minute. "I told you not to fuck him," he says.

I ignore him. "Have you ever noticed when your mom's not waiting on us the portions shrink by approximately one third?" I look at the waitress and hold up a french fry. "I said fries. Plural."

"Are you even listening to me?" Mikey asks.

"Yeah, I shouldn't have fucked him," I say.

"It's like Mr. Workshafter fucking me," Ted Chimes in.

"Mr. Workshafter is like, seventy-two," Michael retorts.

"Do you mind?" I ask. "I was trying to eat."

"You know what I mean," Ted explains. "You don't prey on the help."

"I didn't prey on him," I say. "He went after me."

Ted doesn't reply and finally Mikey says. "Let's go to the gym. You'll feel better after you work out."

Mikey and I stand up. He looks at Ted. "You coming?"

"No," Ted replies. "The gym isn't the same without my workout buddy."

"We'll be your workout buddies," I tell him.

"Emmett would let me get away with murder," he replies. "You guys will make me sweat." He smiles at us.

"So, we'll see you at Woody's later on," Michael says.

Ted shakes his head. "You know, Woody's isn't the same without my beer buddy there."

I sigh and look to the heavens for some guidance. Oh, that's right, everybody up there is too busy smiting me, and turning Emmett straight.

Ted continues his lament. "Pointing out all the cute guys, and spilling drinks all over me." He chuckles.

"We'll spill drinks all over you," I offer.

Mikey sits back down next to him. "You know Emmett can't commit to anything. A guy, a new conditioner..." Ted nods his head.

"He'll get over this too," I say. "You'll see." Ted nods again. "Thanks for lunch," I smirk as I follow Mikey out the door, leaving Theodore with the bill.

==================================================================

Mel and I walk into the restaurant where she's agreed to meet me for lunch. We walk straight past the beleaguered hostess, who follows behind us with menus as we find the closest empty table. "Let me get this straight. You fuck up my life, you destroy my relationship, and know you have the astonishing, breathtaking gall to ask me to represent you?"

Hmm, she fucks around on Lindsay and gets booted out and that's somehow my fault. I decide not to bring that up at this critical juncture, though. "Yeah," I reply. "And I'll pay, too."

"Ah, keep your money because from what I hear, you're going to need it."

She sits down and I take the seat across from her. "Fine," I say. "Homophobic, corporate America wins again."

"Oh, please. You could hang a sign on your office door saying 'blow jobs ten cents' and you'd still have it better than any woman or person of color, because guess what? You're a white man, which still counts for something in this country." Our waiter brings us water. "Thanks," Mel tells him. When he leaves, she picks up her glass. "All right," she says. "Just for laughs, tell me your version of the story."

"He wanted it. I gave it to him."

She laughs. "Like I asked for. Short, but sweet."

"It wasn't THAT short," I tell her.

"And where did this act of selfless generousity take place?"

"In my office and in my loft."

"So, he couldn't have minded too much if he came back for more," she comments. "Go on."

"Then he asked me to help him get a promotion."

"What did you tell him?"

"I told him he wasn't ready."

"How did he take it?"

"How do you think? He felt because we were both gay, and we fucked, that somehow he was entitled to a free ride. I didn't agree."

Mel looks at me seriously for a moment. "How many tricks do you have a month?" she asks.

"Twenty, thirty," I answer.

"Jesus, what a life."

I lean forward. "What does the number of guys I do have to do with it?"

"Well, for once, you screwing everything that moves is your finest quality, and your best defense. You didn't have to abuse your position at work in order to get laid."

I snort. "The fuck defense?"

"We've got to prove that when this kid didn't get what he wanted, he decided to use law and order to get even."

"Then you'll take the case?" I ask her intently.

She sits back. "Look, not that I give a shit about saving your ass, but it might be amusing to have you indebted to me for the rest of your life."

I stare at her and begin to wonder if this was such a great fucking idea after all.

==================================================================

Justin

Deb and Vic are standing at the table folding laundry when some ancient song comes on the radio. They start singing along and dancing like lunatics. Apparently, they're doing 'The Hustle', whatever the fuck that is.

I smile, because it's fun to see them being silly. My parents were never silly together like this. Then I realize I'm a teenager and behavior like this is supposed to annoy me. "Do you mind?" I ask.

"What's the matter, Princess?" Vic asks.

"I'm trying to do my homework," I tell them.

"Well, excuuuuse us," Deb retorts, still dancing with Vic.

Michael walks through the front door, hauling two Big Q bags. "Hey."

"Hey, Mikey," says Deb. She and Vic continue their whacky dance.

They get on either side of Michael and start bumping his hips. He looks at me. "What are they doing?"

"Reliving their youth," I tell him. Then Michael starts in with the dancing too. "You people are so weird."

"Well, if you don't like it," says Michael. "Why don't you just go up to your room? Oh, let me re-phrase that. My room."

"Would you let that go already?" Deb says as Vic swings her around in Michael's direction.

"Yeah, Mikey," Vic adds as he moves over and grabs Michael's chin. "You're a doctor's wife now."

"That's right," Deb adds. "And to think that I used to worry that you were spending your life following after...what's his name?"

"Would you leave Brian out of this?" Michael grouses at his mom. "He's got enough shit to deal with." He turns off the radio so the dancing will stop. Thank God.

"What kind of shit?" I ask. As usual, any mention of Brian immediately piques my interest.

"Some guy at work is suing him for sexual harassment," Michael replies. "It's really serious. He could lose everything."

"I knew someday he'd stick his dick where it didn't belong," Deb comments.

"Well, we've gotta do something," I say. I mean we can't just let this happen to Brian.

"Sunshine," Deb says. "I don't think there's anything you can do."

"I'm afraid," Vic says as he lifts the laundry basket off the table. "Brian's fucked the last person he should have." He looks at all of us. "Himself."

Vic goes upstairs and Deb moves to follow him. "I'm sorry, honey," she says to Michael as she passes by.

This is bullshit. "You're his best friend," I say to Michael. "You should do something. I would do something if I could."

"Just mind your own business," Michael sneers at me. He turns around and dials the phone. "Dr. Cameron, please. It's Michael." Oh great, call your boyfriend. The one that hates Brian. That will help, Michael. "Hey," he says. "Listen, I know we have plans tonight, but my mom's got this...she's not feeling well. She's got this flu, cough, fever, cold kind of a thing. Yeah, you know, and I thought I'd, you know, stick around, and, uh, keep her company."

Well, well, maybe Michael's not so useless after all. I know he just lied to David so he could go do something for Brian.

==================================================================

Brian

I'm in my office packing some things in my briefcase when I hear a knock at the door. I look up and it's all I can do not to lunge at the man who is fucking up my life so very badly right now. "Fuck you," I tell Kip.

"Look, I just wanted to let you know that I'm really sorry about this."

"Really? That makes me feel a lot better." I don't bother to hide the sarcasm in my voice.

"I had no choice. If I didn't do what you wanted, you would have fired me."

I wonder what color the fucking sky is in his world. "No," I answer, "you tried to get ahead by giving head, which, by the way, you're not very good at."

He huffs out a laugh. "We obviously remember things very differently.

I move over and get in his face. "Yeah. I remember what happened," I yell at him and move away before I do something I won't be able to defend in court.

He's still in my office because he obviously can't take a hint. That should have been my first fucking clue. "If I could propose something," he says. I turn around to look at him. "I'd be more than willing to forget the whole thing if you'll say you're sorry, and reconsider me for that position."

"You know, you have a real talent for propositions," I tell him.

"Would you mind not standing so close?" he asks me.

Oh fucking brother. He certainly didn't mind the closeness of MY DICK UP HIS ASS. "Why?" I ask. "You worried something might happen?" I finally snap and grab the lapels of his jacket. "Like I might use my position of power to take advantage of your tight little asshole!" I slam him down on my desk.

"God," he says.

I let go and sit down next to him. When he pulls himself up, I wrap my hand behind his neck. "Get. Out. Of. My. Office," I tell him icily.

He looks at me with fear in his eyes and then leaves. I gather my briefcase and look around for a moment before I go too. Wistfully hoping it's not the last I'll see of my coveted job.

==================================================================

I go home and change into jeans and a t-shirt, trying to forget my shitty day and my confrontation with that lying little asshole, Kip. There's a knock at my door and when I open it, I'm attacked by a mountain of pizza boxes, Chinese food bags, and a bucket of chicken. Not surprisingly, Mikey is the man behind the food.

"Thought you might be a little hungry," he comments.

I take in the armload of junk food. "A little?" I say. "Do you know what we'd turn into if we ate all that?"

"A couple of fat, flabby fags who nobody would want to fuck, ever," he replies.

I start looking in the bags. "Huh," I say. "Let's dig in!"

We dump it on my coffee table and start to eat. After much inhaling of food, Mikey finally slows down enough to speak. "Do you know what I remember from high school?" He laughs. "Remember that time in biology class when you beat off in a test tube for your science project?"

We both laugh. I take another bite of pizza. "Food, there was always lots of food at your house."

"That's an Italian thing," he answers. "And there was always plenty of booze at your house," he adds as he takes a swig from one of the bottles that sits among the junk food carnage.

"Uh huh," I say as I grab the bottle from him. "That's an Irish thing."

"What's this?" Mikey says as he pulls a clipboard off the floor next to him. "Reality checklist," he says. I reach over to grab it from him, but he eludes me.

I pull away and try to act cool. "Yeah, um, I'm thinking of trying to simplify my life."

"Clothes," he reads off the list. He starts to laugh. "Yeah, you could certainly save money on clothes. Cosmetics," he continues.

"Yeah, the French anti-aging shit costs a hundred dollars a tube and I still don't look nineteen."

"Going out," he reads.

"Yeah, I figure I could probably survive hitting the clubs five times a week instead of six."

"I don't know, that's a pretty big sacrifice," he replies. "Loft?" he says with alarm in his voice.

I roll over and lay on the floor on my stomach. "Yeah, well, what do I need this big, expensive place for, anyway?"

"This is your home," he whines. He moves over to lie beside me. "Maybe it won't come to that."

"Well, if it does," I tell him. "I'll just get a rich sugar daddy like the doc."

He laughs. "He's not my sugar daddy. If I'm not careful, he might not even be my boyfriend."

"What?" I ask. "Trouble in paradise?"

"He doesn't know I'm here," Mikey whispers.

"You're lying to him already?" I ask in mock horror. "What, is he afraid I'll steal you away from him?"

"Last chicken leg," he says holding the poultry in my face. "You're the chicken hawk."

I sigh and toss the offending piece of chicken away from us. "I didn't do what they're saying," I tell him. "I just want you to know that."

"You don't have to explain," he says to me. I'm not real sure if he believes me or if this is just his unconditional love thing. I want to say something else, but he starts to talk. "Hey, you know what I remember?" He rolls over onto his back and pulls me on top of him. "Senior year. We were going to be in a band. You were going to be the next Robert Smith."

Oh fuck. I cover my eyes. "Yeah, well, that dream died real fast."

"We were damn good," he says. I just look at him. "Hey, do you still have that guitar?" Oh fuck.

==================================================================

Before I know it I find myself up on stage at Woody's open mic night, sharing a microphone with Mikey, belting out a song. Yeah, we're pretty fucking drunk, and full.

"Just because you love me, doesn't mean I can't have my way," we belt out.

We both take another swig and continue with our wild guitar playing. We share a kiss and keep playing and then the crowd goes wild.

Good job, Mikey. Kip Thomas is forgotten.

==================================================================

Kip Thomas is fucking remembered when Mel shows up at the loft the next morning and drags my ass out of bed. I sit sideways on the couch in the pair of pants I managed to drag on. I lean my head against the back of the sofa and wish to God she would just stop yelling. Oh wait, she hasn't even said anything yet.

"Okay," she says. "Let's go over the questions they're going to ask you at the hearing."

I put a hand up to my ear. "Now?"

"If you prefer, we can wait until they boot your butt out of the company. Yes, now. Christ, you asked me to represent you..."

I hold up a hand. "Okay, fine. Fire away." I close my eyes and try to swallow the nausea. "But," I point at her. "Gently." Just then, fucking Justin turns on my blender. "I said gently," I yell over to him.

"Justin, please," Mel says to him.

"Sorry," he calls back. He comes over carrying the container from the blender. "Here, drink this. It's a secret recipe my alcoholic grandmother used to make."

I take it from him and smell it. "Jesus, it smells like a dirty jock strap."

"In that case you should like it," Mel cracks. Bitch.

Justin laughs. Fucking traitor. I take a drink of the foul concoction. "The secret is, she pissed in it," I say as I try to hand it back to him.

Of course he won't take it. "I'm just trying to help you." He slaps me a little. "You know I'd do anything."

"Oh, Jesus," Mel retorts. "Let's just pray the arbitrator is gay and thinks he's cute."

Suddenly the door slides open and Lindsay walks in holding Gus. "I'm sorry, I didn't know that you were..." she starts.

"It's okay, neither did...neither..." Mel replies.

Lindsay turns to leave. "I'll come back later."

"No, stay," Mel says. "I was just helping Brian with..."

"I know, he told me," Lindsay replies. She walks in. "Well, look who's here, honey," she says to Gus, who is wearing some ridiculous striped sweater with at matching pointy hat. Why does she insist on dressing my son like a clown?

Mel approaches them and reaches for Gus. "Hey, buddy," she says as she takes him in her arms and starts kissing on him, while Lindsay strips off his gloves and hat; thank God. "Hey, sweetheart," Mel says to Gus as she kisses him again.

"He misses you," Lindsay says.

"Look, um," Mel says as she hands the baby back to Lindsay. "Why don't we go over this later?" I think she's talking to me, but her eyes are on Lindsay and Gus. Christ it's like watching an episode of "As the Lesbians Turn."

"You don't have to rush off because of me," Lindsay replies.

Mel plays with Gus for another moment and he smiles at her. She takes a deep breath. "I have to get to work." She grabs her things and hurrie out of the loft,

I eye Lindsay closely and then hold the blender up to Justin. "Would you get this shit away from me."

"It's my grandmother's recipe," he explains to Linds. "He's majorly hung."

She laughs a bit and I say, "For once he's not talking about my cock."

Gus starts fussing a bit. "Ohh," Lindsay says as she kisses him. "Shh, shh.'

"It's okay, Sonny Boy," I say. "Your old man will recover." I close my eyes.

"He's not crying over you," she snaps. "He misses Melanie."

"You just had your chance," I say into the couch. "Why didn't you beg her to come back?"

"Excuse me?" Lindsay says in her best waspy voice. "She's the one who cheated."

"Well, maybe she had a reason," I tell her bluntly.

"So, now you're taking her side, huh, well that's amusing." She's using her singsong voice to comfort Gus while she berates me. " After all the years you spent hating her, humiliating her, trying to force her out of our lives every chance you got. Well, congratulations, you finally got what you wanted."

"Yeah, that's right, blame me. Why not? Everybody else does." I roll my eyes. I'm really not feeling up to all this bullshit. I look up at her. "Well, maybe you finally got what you wanted."

She shakes her head a bit. "Look, I'm going to have to go back to work sooner than I thought, which means I'll need a sitter."

"I'll do it," Justin pipes in. "I'm great with Gus."

"Oh, I'm sure," Lindsay replies. "Only I need someone full time."

"Justin," I reach a hand up to where he's standing behind the couch. "Will you get my checkbook?"

"Are you sure?" Lindsay asks with concern. "I mean with what's going on..."

"It's not a problem," I interrupt her. Justin hands me the checkbook. "I said I'd look after you and Gus and I am." I lean down to write the check.

Lindsay sits down on the couch with me and I hand her the check. "Thanks," she says as she leans over to kiss me.

"Yeah," I reply. I lean into Gus. "Hey," I smile and then I'm immersed with the magic that is my son.

==================================================================

Justin

"What the fuck's the matter with you?" Debbie berates Michael from her spot at the bar at Woody's. "Lying to David. Telling him I was sick! I didn't know what to say!"

"And that was a first," Vic cracks from where he's sitting next to her.

"Shut up," she tells him.

"All right, I made a mistake," Michael admits.

"You're damn right you did," Deb agrees. "And you keep this up, you're gonna' blow it, you hear me?"

"I already said I was wrong," he retorts. "Okay? If you want to torture somebody, go to the S & M bar across the street.

I smile from my spot across the bar where I'm a silent observer to this little family interlude. I have to admit, I get a small bit of pleasure from Deb yelling at Michael. Again, I find myself relating to my little sister. God help me.

Vic observes Michael and Ted, who has remained silent thus far. "What's with you guys anyway? This is supposed to be a gay bar, remember?"

Ted looks up. "I saw Emmett last night. With his woman. At least that's how she purported to represent herself."

"He really is going straight," Michael adds. I cringe at the thought.

"And so are we," Vic says. "Straight to hell, according to them."

I can't keep quiet anymore. "Yeah, but, doesn't he know that every reputable psychological study done within the last twenty-five years emphatically states that a person's sexual orientation is determined by the age of six? Sometimes even before birth, and it's completely unalterable."

"You tell 'em, Sunshine," Deb calls over to me. "A leopard can't change his stripes. Either can a queer." She holds her beer up to me and I raise my glass in salute.

"You know," adds Vic. "It's a nasty world out there. So, if Emmett hasn't got the guts to be gay, then I say, fuck him!"

"Well, he's still our friend," replies Ted. "I just can't let him go that easily."

A slightly familiar figure walks behind Deb and Vic and up to the bar. "Stoli on the rocks," he says.

Holy fuck! It's that guy. The one from Brian's work, who's totally screwing him over. I recognize him from the time he came to the loft and I was spying from the stairwell. This is it. This is fucking it! My chance to do something.

I move over to him and lean up against the bar right next to him. He glances over at me and I look at him, then I take a closer look, like I'm studying him. "Haven't I seen you before?" I ask.

"That's original," he replies. "And the answer is no, I don't think so."

Okay, Justin, play this cool. I can't screw it up. Brian needs me to get this right. "No," I tell him. "It was the other night, Babylon. I remember you."

"Well, I don't remember you," he says as he tosses back his drink and walks away. Fuck.

==================================================================

Brian

I lay on the table in Doctor Dave's office, amusing myself with blowing smoke rings while I wait for him to show up. Finally, he opens the door and comes inside. "Working late, Doc?" I ask.

"Catching up on some paperwork," he replies coolly. "So, I hear you have a problem."

"Yeah," I say as I push myself up. "I've got this pain in my ass."

"Maybe it's from over exertion," he counters. Good one, doc.

"Maybe it's you," I retort.

"So, how can I help alleviate your condition."

"You can lay off Mikey."

"Well, my prescription for that would be for you to mind your own business."

"He is my business, and he's going to be my business long after you're gone."

"Not going anywhere," he replies. "Although, I did hear that you may be on your way out."

"Who told you that?"

"Practically everyone," he answers smugly. "Although that's not our concern."

I blow smoke into the air. "Your better half thinks differently."

"I told my better half to stay out of it."

"By forbidding him to see me," I reply. "You know, that's not how you're going to keep him. That's how you're going to lose him." He just stares at me. "You know, Doc, you are good. The pain I was having." I stand up and hold my ass. "Is feeling better already."

I toss my cigarette into his coffee and walk out.

==================================================================

Justin

I steel myself and chase that Kip guy out of Woody's. I find him out in the alley. "Hey," I say.

He turns to look. "Oh, it's you again. You don't give up, do you?"

"Do you want me to?" I ask him.

"Did you really see me before?" he asks as he slows down a little so I can catch up.

"Sure," I say. Here goes nothing. "You were with that guy, Brian."

"How do you know him?" he asks nervously.

I laugh a little. "Everybody knows Brian Kinney. He's a real asshole."

"Oh, really," he says as he leans up against the wall.

"Yeah, he's always coming on to you, acting like he likes you. Really, all he cares about is getting laid." A little too close to the truth for me, but I keep going with it.

"How do you know?" Kip asks. "Did he break your heart?"

Yes. "Fuck, no," I laugh. "I'd never fall for his shit." Wow, who knew I could act? "Besides," I put a hand up on the wall next to his head. "He's not my type. Is he yours?"

"Are you kidding?" he asks. He looks at me. "So, what is your type?"

I lean in and kiss him hard. I really want to just throw up, but I have to do this for Brian. He pulls back. "My place," he asks. I nod my head and follow him out of the alley and to his car.

==================================================================

We're in his room and I'm forcing myself to kiss him again. He holds my face. "You're a hot little fucker."

"You're pretty hot yourself," I lie.

He unzips my jacket and sees my nipple ring. "Oh yeah," he says excitedly.

"Go on," I tell him. "Lick it." He does. "That's it," I say as I look around the room, trying to sound convincing. "You're hotter than the guy I had last week, " I say.

"Is that so?" Kip asks as he continues to plant kisses all over my torso.

"Mmm hmm," I answer. "He wanted to put me in short pants and spank me."

"I want to do a lot more than that," he answers as he moves back up to kiss my lips.

"Like what?" I ask.

"Like, how about I show you?" he says as he pushes me to my feet and goes for the opening of my pants.

He pulls them down and then goes for my underwear. When he pulls those down, he smiles up at me and I try to swallow down the bile in my throat and smile back. He starts to attack my dick in earnest. "You'd better hurry, though," I tell him.

"What's the rush?" he asks.

"I've got a stupid curfew, if you can believe it. My parents want me home by midnight."

He laughs nervously. "You...you live with your parents?"

"Where else would I live? I'm seventeen."

"Seventeen," he repeats. "So, how do you get into bars?"

"Duh, like a fake ID. I don't tell my dad, though. He goes totally psycho. Like he did when he found out I was gay."

"Hmm," he replies as he reaches around and holds the backs of my legs, like he doesn't want to give up the piece of ass, but he's just not sure.

"He went after the guy I was fucking at the time." I laugh. "He turned him in to the police."

"The police?" he asks.

"He'll be out in ten years."

Okay, that didn't seem to faze him much. His mouth goes right back to my cock. I guess I need to step it up a bit. "If he knew I was here," I say.

"Uh, how would he know?"

"Oh," I shake my head. "There's no way." I look into Kip's eyes. "Unless I told him."

"But, you wouldn't do that, would you?"

"Of course not," I reply as I reach up and run my hand down the side of his face. "I would never do anything like that." He lets out a little breath and then I let my face harden. "Provided you do something for me."

==================================================================

Brian

"Remember, let me do the talking," Mel says to me as we sit in the big conference room by ourselves.

"Yeah, you always do," I reply.

"And when the investigator from H.R. asks you something, confer with me first."

"I got it," I tell her. I look away. Fuck. "Listen, however this plays out. Thanks." I roll my eyes. "You didn't have to help me. You could have said, fuck you."

"I know," she replies smugly.

The door opens and my heart skips a beat as Ryder walks in alone. "There you are. I was looking for you."

I clear my throat and Mel stands up. "This is Marty Ryder, my boss, this is Melanie Marcus, my attorney."

"Nice to meet you," he says to her.

He turns his attention back to me. "Look, Liberty Air was just awarded a new route into LaGuardia. They're taking on the majors in the northeast."

I stare at him, more than a little confused. "So?'

"So, they want to go national with your campaign," he tells me. "You've got a lot of work to do." Okay, what the fuck?

"What about the hearing?" Mel asks for me.

"Forget about the hearing," he replies. "That matter's been dropped."

"Dropped?" Mel says.

"What happened?" I ask.

"Damned if I know and who the hell cares," Marty retorts. "Be in my office in five minutes." He leaves, shutting the door behind him.

Mel just stares after him, shaking her head. "Unfuckingbelievable," she says as she sits back down. "Jesus, what are you, Mr. Teflon? Shit just never sticks to you."

I just look at her. I know as much as she does, but thank fucking God.

==================================================================

Justin

Brian reaches up to pick up my shirt off the dance floor of Babylon. "Losing your shirt," he says to me as he wraps it around my neck.

"You almost lost yours," I reply as he pulls me in close and we rock to the beat.

"Uh, yeah, I still have no idea why he dropped the suit."

"It's a mystery," I answer innocently.

"I guess I'll just have to be more careful who I fuck," he says as he takes my face into his hands.

"Lucky for you, I turn eighteen tomorrow."

"What do you want for your birthday?" he asks huskily.

I simply pull him into a kiss. God it was so fucking worth kissing that sleaze and letting him near my dick. I know that Brian can never know what I did for him. To see Brian this happy, to have him here kissing me, wanting me. It's all I'll ever want.

==================================================================

Brian

I dance with Justin and I feel like the weight of the world has been lifted off my shoulders. He tells me he's turning eighteen tomorrow and it makes me feel good. I have no fucking idea why, but it does. Like I told Justin, I don't know why Kip dropped the suit and right now, I don't care. Maybe he had a sudden attack of conscience.

All I care about is the beautiful blond boy who is currently dancing in my arms, and who I am going to fuck into the mattress all night, right into his eighteenth birthday. I signal to Justin that I want to go and he seems more than ready.

On our way out we see Emmett, doing his trademark praise Jesus dance. Looks like he finally came to his fucking senses and stopped with all that turning straight bullshit. That makes me happy too, and I pull Justin in tighter. Fuck, I'm being such a lesbian tonight, and for once, I don't give a shit.

Justin turns to me and shoots me his sunshine smile, and suddenly we can't get to my Jeep fast enough.

Return to QAF: A Love Story