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It had been another fruitful morning at Kinnetics. Brown Athletics had committed itself to yet another season of advertising, the contractors working on rebuilding Babylon were on schedule, and Tony’s newly re-vamped SteamWorks private men’s gym was in its final stage of remodeling. Brian, and Tony’s gamble to make Pittsburgh the new gay Mecca was in full swing. The target date for unveiling the new, hottest gay destination in the country was December 18th.

“Brian, Justin is on line one.” Cynthia’s voice came over the speakerphone.

“Tell him I’m busy, I’ll call him back.” Brian answered her.

“I can handle things from here if you need to take the rest of the day off,” Ted offered. “I know how hectic house hunting can be. I remember when I was looking for my condo. My realtor must have shown me….”

Brian closed his laptop in the middle of Ted’s sentence, and stood up from behind his desk. “I’m going to lunch.” he said.

“What time will you be back?” Ted asked.

“I don’t know.” Brian exited his office.

In the grand scheme of things it could be said that three fags hooking up was no big deal. However, the Royal Trio were no ordinary fags. Would Liberty Avenue ever be the same again without its living icon, Brian Kinney? Even though Brian had been unofficially off the market for quite some time now, it was always assumed that the pride of Babylon would eventually tire of partnering, and return to his old carousing ways. Much to everyone’s surprise, between the three, it was Brian who appeared to be the most comfortable in his new role as husband. Time had run out for those still waiting for their one, lucky night with Brian Kinney, in his legendary loft

“Well if it isn’t the married man!” Debbie greeted Brian as he entered the diner. “How’s the house hunting coming?”

“It’s coming. What’s the special of the day?” Brian quickly changed the subject.

“It’s meatloaf Tuesday. Why aren’t you out looking at houses with Tony, Justin, and Jennifer?” Debbie asked.

“I’m sure whatever they choose will be fine. I’ll have two of the meatloaf specials, to go.” Brian again changed the subject.

“Brian Kinney, you’re just the man I want to see!” Emmett sauntered through the door.

“Why? Do I owe you money?” Brian asked.

Emmett ignored Brian’s last remark, and took a seat next to him at the counter. “You’ll never guess who I have a meeting with this afternoon, the Pittsburgh Ironmen.”

“The football team?” Brian looked puzzled.

“None other than.” Emmett grinned.

“Wait…don’t tell me…they want you to wash their balls,” Brian guessed.

“No.” Emmett rolled his eyes. “This is strictly a business meeting. Remember I catered their quarterback, Drew Boyd’s wedding? Well Mr. Boyd recommended me to cater the players’ ceremonial dinner this year.”

“That’s great, Emmett!” Debbie had been listening in.

“Can you imagine a roomful of hulking football players?” Emmett swooned. “And I owe it all to my good friend Brian. Thanks to all of the negative press surrounding the violence at your gay prom, and now the incident that took place at Michael and Ben’s wedding, Emmett Honeycutt has become a wanted man.”

“I don’t understand,” Debbie said.

“Apparently it’s good business to keep up politically correct appearances, especially when your business is located in a city that’s rapidly gaining the reputation as being the new Laramie Wyoming. I can’t keep up with all of the phone calls from people wanting me to cater their events, just to show that they’re not prejudiced against gays,” Emmett explained.

“Here’s to hypocrisy.” Brian raised his water glass in a sarcastic toast.

“Ain’t America great?” Emmett raised his glass as well. “So how’s the house hunting coming, sweetie?”

“It’s coming,” Brian said, as Debbie handed him his orders.

“I still can’t believe you’re giving up the loft. Ahhh, the memories. If those walls could only talk.” Emmett sighed. “You know, Brian, since things are looking up, I might be interested in taking the loft off your hands.”

“I’ll keep that in mind.” Brian tossed his money onto the counter, and exited the diner.

 

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Still tanned from his honeymoon in Jamaica, Michael was back at work at the comic book store. The familiar ring of the shopkeeper’s bell interrupted his tally of the morning’s newspaper sales. “Hey, what are you doing here in the middle of the day?” Michael smiled.

“I brought lunch.” Brian held up the bag from the diner.

Michael took note of the greasy spots. “It must be meatloaf Tuesday,” he said.

“How did you guess?” Brian smiled.

With the morning commute rush over, the next parade of customers would not be expected until after 3pm, when school dismissed. Michael cleared a spot on the counter for himself, and his best friend. “So how’s the house hunting coming along?” Michael unwrapped his lunch.

“Why is everyone so concerned about where I’m going to live?” Brian snapped.

“It’s not everyday that a historical gay landmark like the infamous Brian Kinney loft closes. Have you decided what you’re going to do with it? Are you going to sell it, or rent it out by the hour?” Michael teased.

“I don’t know. I guess I’ll just turn it over to Jennifer. I’m sure she can find some old queen trying to regain his youth.” Brian unwrapped his lunch.

“I thought you said the three of you had decided to put a bid in for the house in Brentwood Hills, the one with the coach house, and the pool,” Michael recalled.

“Can we talk about something else!” Brian barked.

The unexpected outburst caused Michael to look up from his meatloaf. “What the fuck’s wrong with you?”

“Nothing. Let’s just eat our lunch,” Brian said.

Michael watched as Brian shoved a forkful of food into his mouth. “You don’t really want to move, do you? You don’t want to leave the loft,” he said.

“What are you talking about? Of course I want to leave.” Brian took another forkful of his food. “That’s what married people do, right? They leave their old place, and move into a new place with their partner.”

“You’re scared,” Michael concluded.

“I’m not scared,” Brian lied.

“Then what is it?” Michael asked as if he didn’t know.

Brian put his fork down, and pushed his plate away. “It’s just that the loft has been my home for the past 9 years. It was my first major purchase when I started working for Ryder,” he said

“I understand how you feel. I felt the same way when I moved to Portland with David, but it’s not like you’re moving far away. You’re just moving to Brentwood Hills,” Michael reminded him.

“I don’t belong in the suburbs, Mikey. I got my ass kicked everyday in the suburbs, either by my father or by the neighborhood kids, just because of what I was. Liberty Avenue is my home. It’s the first place where I felt accepted, and my loft is the first place where I felt safe. Every extra penny I earned, I put into that loft. From the sliding steel doors, to the platform bed, to the walk-in shower…It was all custom built to my specifications. All of my best memories are in that loft. The loft is really the only real home that I know,” Brian confessed.

“Your cell phone is ringing,” Michael said.

“It’s Justin, and Tony, and Jennifer waiting for me at the realtors’ office. We’re supposed to be closing the deal on our house today,” Brian said.

 

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On the other side of town, Tony was standing outside of their realtor’s office, with his cell phone pressed against his ear. “Damn it! Where the fuck is Brian?” he barked.

“Maybe we should reschedule this for another time,” Justin suggested.

“Are you kidding me?” Tony looked at Justin. “I just bargained the owner down a cool million from his asking price, I’ve got two lawyers in there that are costing me a fortune, and your mother is waiting on her commission check from the sale!”

“Shh, keep your voice down.” Justin frowned.

“Don’t tell me to keep my voice down! Damn it, Brian, pick up your phone!” Tony got even louder.

Justin gently took hold of his husband’s arm. “Tony, maybe now is not the right time to move in together.”

“What?”

“Let me rephrase that,” Justin began again. “Maybe Brian’s not ready to leave his loft.”

“That’s ridiculous. This house in Brentwood has bedrooms the size of Brian’s loft,” Tony pointed out.

“But it doesn’t have the loft’s history,” Justin said. “The loft is the first place where Brian, and I made love. It’s where Brian brought me to live with him when my father threw me out of the house. It’s where I cooked him my mom’s famous Jambalaya for the first time. I can still see Brian looking at me from across the table.” Justin smiled.

“It’s also the same place where Kevin raped you, and where Brian served you up as a side dish to the numerous tricks he had parading through his own private backroom,” Tony growled.

“I’ve forgiven him for that, and I want you to forgive him too,” Justin said.

“You wanted this arrangement, Justin. You insisted that the three of us could be together, and make it work. How are we supposed to do that if we’re living in 3 separate places?” Tony wanted to know.

“Maybe if we gave Brian more time…”

“Time? He’s 35 years old, how much more fucking time does he need? We’re already supposed to be married remember? Fuck this!” Tony slammed his cell phone shut, and stuffed it back inside his suit jacket pocket.

Justin watched as his livid husband turned and headed back inside the realtor’s office. “Tony, what are you going to do?” Justin followed him.

“The deal is off, we’ve changed our minds. We don’t want the house,” Tony announced to the small assembly at the table.


NEXT WEEK: Compromising Positions

 

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