For Sale

Chapter 2 - JUSTIN

From the moment I opened the door and found Brian there on the other side I knew, I just knew what I would have to do to make this work. I also knew I had to make this work.

My life had been empty until he walked through that door. I lived in the city that never sleeps and all I wanted to do was curl up in a ball and sleep. The only other motions I made were to paint.

I was fortunate enough to be frugal with the money I earned from the sale of Rage and the salary from the position held on the now shelved movie-that-never-was. I had no intention of waiting tables anymore, unless I was home and Deb asked for a hand.

The biggest joke was that I really didn’t have time to starve because that cunt of a critic wasn’t such a cunt after all. He may have wanted my ass, but since that wasn’t up for grabs (literally or figuratively), he still got my art recognized.

The problem was that my life was like a vacuum. I lived from one visit with Brian to the next. From that first moment when he arrived in New York to share my success -- which would have been a hollow success without him there -- to today, my life revolves around my painting and my time with Brian.

I know, it sounds like a ridiculous teen romance novel, but the emotions are all there. It also seemed that Brian was feeling the same way but I never wanted to corner him. I never wanted him to think that I wanted him all for myself.

No one could compare to Brian. Not just as a lover, but as a friend (with the exception of Daphne but she’s practically a second sister). Over the years we’d known each other I never realized that Brian had become my mentor, my guide, my confidant...my other half.

I guess this is what it means to truly find your soul mate. I never fucked anyone else, but I didn’t tell Brian. There was no reason for him to feel guilty since we were only together on weekends. It’s not that I didn’t look and I did make a few friends. The art world may seem immense but on a local level I had made a few contacts with people I got along with and we went out from time to time.

I never had any intention of becoming a recluse and I certainly didn’t have any initial intention of becoming monogamous. It just played out that way. If I couldn’t find someone to make me feel as good as Brian, why bother with all the baggage that might come along with the wrong trick.

Dancing with guys and letting them get a grope every now and then was fine, but I always went home alone. Me and my left hand -- being ambidextrous has its advantages.

The weekends were amazing. Most of the time Brian came to New York. It was more practical. While I was selling my art, rather than having to peddle my ass as I’d once joked about years before, he was still wealthy beyond his wildest imagination.

It’s funny, but despite his gift to develop the best ads in the world, he never thought he’d own his own agency and become a huge power-competitor in the advertising world. Almost every product or service Kinnetik worked with turned to gold. He had the Midas touch for ad campaigns that would charm the masses.

So with all the money he was raking in it just made more sense for him to spend the money to visit me. On occasion I did let him pay for me to come to Pittsburgh, especially if it was a particularly lean month on sales and there was some kind of family event that Mom or Deb said I had to attend.

The one thing I regretted was Britin. We never got to spend more than one or two nights there in a given month. And we certainly never got to decorate since we were hardly together. The only room in the house that was truly finished was the bedroom so we could enjoy ourselves when we were there.

The funny thing was that I loved that place and everything it represented. Just thinking about Britin and the first time Brian had brought me there always put me in a place of contentment.

I’d painted Britin, more than once, into my paintings. It didn’t always appear to the unknowing eye, but I could find it. Somehow that place became a goal for me. When I returned to Britin my life would be complete. When I could paint AT Britin my art would reach dimensions it never had before. When I could commit to Brian 100% as his partner/spouse for life, Britin would be my home, my sanctuary.

It makes me chuckle to think those thoughts. Brian likes to call me a drama queen -- I graduated from drama princess a long time ago -- and he would know because he’s the biggest drama queen of all (but I wouldn’t dare tell him that). Then, I think of the biggest drama queen I remember seeing in film and that was Scarlet O’Hara. Well, if the shoe fits... she had her Tara and I have my Britin.

That’s another thing I never seem to get around to telling Brian. How much Britin means to me. How could I possibly tell him that, when I know we really don’t have time to be there? It would just give him another reason to feel guilty about something. He takes so much to heart and owns blame for so many things that aren’t his fault already. I have no intention of adding to the glut.

We’d been seeing each other every weekend, sometimes longer, for almost two years when I decided I wanted to visit him. I’d just finished seven new pieces for a show that would actually have my name as the featured artist. The gallery was ready to sell the exhibit on my name. If the show was a success I could write my own ticket and I wanted that ticket to read, “Home Finally”.

I didn’t want to say anything about my intentions until after the show opened to insure that it wasn’t a flop. Like most, I was superstitious about predicting my own success before it was in the bag. Besides, Brian did enough of that for me. He always made me feel that if a painting didn’t sell it was because the attendees of the show were the scum of the earth who wouldn’t know talent if it bit them in their collective asses. Now, how could I not love someone who could put that amusing image out there and make me believe it?

It was about two weeks before the opening when everything started turning upside down, but I didn’t know it yet.

“Hey.”

“Hey Sunshine. To what do I owe this call?”

“Instead of you coming to me this weekend I’d like to come there.”

“You can come anywhere you’d like as long as I can be there to reap the benefits.” I could practically see the smirk on his face.

“Oh, I intend for you to do plenty of reaping this weekend. I’d just rather go to you. Do you think we can check out Britin? We haven’t been there in ages.”

“Do you really think the family will stand for that? Whenever you’re in town it’s like competing with a fucking parade to get you alone for ten minutes. How do you think we could get away with going to West Virginia?”

I knew Brian was right but I really wanted to see the house. “It’s just that, well, with the show coming up I won’t be able to get there in a while and I feel like it’s been neglected. The house needs more attention than we’re giving it.”

Bingo! I’d said the wrong thing and had no idea. Talk about fucking mixed messages. One sentence, one thought, and the whole world, my whole world nearly went to shit.

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