For Sale

Chapter 3 - BRIAN

After talking to Justin I realized it was finally time to make the move I’d been putting off for fucking sentimental reasons, for way too long.

The house was the only thing standing between Justin and me and happiness. It was a god-damned albatross hanging around our necks and tying us to something that he didn’t need or want.

Kinnetik was rolling. Even Ted had assured me more than once that we were ready for expansion as soon as I was ready to say the word.

Maybe that time had finally come. My life was mobile. The loft was fully paid for and could be a great place to visit whenever I needed to be in the Pitts or Justin wanted to visit with the family. But what we needed was to move forward.

I was fucking sick of living for the weekends. I only visited Babylon to check the books and have a drink. I knew I was ready to make the move when I realized I was enjoying my time visiting with the Novotny-Bruckners or with Jennifer Taylor more than I wanted to smoke pot, dance or drink.

Hell, I hadn’t been interested in tricking for over two years. That was one little tidbit I’d been saving for Justin when we could finally be together seven days a week. There was no reason to make him feel guilty.

Now was the time. Now I could finally give Justin everything he wanted, everything he needed, everything he fucking deserved.

Justin’s most prestigious show was coming up rapidly and I knew this would be the one to vault him into notoriety. He would finally become more than just a great artist that the inner circles sought, he would become a great artist whose name was on everyone’s lips.

At cocktail parties the somebodies would all be talking about AND buying his pieces and the wannabees would be saving their pennies to get their hands on anything with the signature Justin Taylor marking its excellence.

I knew what I had to do, and although it caused a pang of pain I called the only person I could possibly enlist to help me, and who also happened to be the only person I knew wouldn’t ruin the surprise. I kept thinking about how happy Justin would be to realize how much he meant to me. Yet, there was a gnawing in the back of my mind. I wasn’t sure why but it lingered.

Thinking back to a time four years earlier when I thought I’d have to sell the loft, I remembered Justin’s words when he spoke of his connection to those four walls, “It’s the place where we made love for the first time... it was love to me.” It didn’t matter that fucking Britin was the place where I proposed. Besides, that wasn’t the right time anyway. I seemed to be the only one attached to that fucking place, so I made the call.

“Hello.”

“Hi, Jennifer, care to have lunch?”

She wasn’t surprised to hear from me. I’d been having lunch with her at least twice a month for the past couple of years. “Sure, Brian. Are you alright? Your voice sounds a bit strange. Is everything okay with Justin?”

I’m always in awe of the difference between how a loving mother approaches everything versus the facade I grew up with.

“Justin is fine. He’s fucking over the moon with enthusiasm over this upcoming show. He’s about to become the toast of the New York art scene.”

“I know, I’m so proud of him. And I’m proud of you, too, Brian.”

“Of me, what the fuck did I do?”

“You gave him the support he needed and never backed away.”

“I did at first. My relationship acumen was still not quite there.”

At least she had the courtesy to laugh, “You really did start out fucking up your relationship with him. I’m just glad that was repaired before any permanent damage was done.”

“Thanks to a pint-sized atomic force. I have a feeling you had something to do with that as well.”

“I won’t deny it. I love my son and what he wants I want to be able to get for him. He wanted you, and you alone, so I did what I could.”

“I can hear you smiling wickedly.” She laughed.

“So lunch at noon, Brian?”

“Yes, meet me at Papagano’s and bring some of your Real Estate sales contracts.”

“Brian?”

“The reservation will be under Kinney. I’ll explain everything when I see you.”

“If this lunch wasn’t in just under two hours I wouldn’t let you off the hook so easily.”

“See you later, Mother Taylor.” She hates when I call her that -- it makes her feel old.

“See you later, sweetheart.” I hate when she calls me that -- payback’s a bitch.

I tried to concentrate on a couple of new campaigns we were working on but it was useless. My thoughts kept focusing on my luncheon ahead, so I put down the boards and the proposed slogans and checked my e-mail.

There was one from Justin that read, You’re not going to fucking believe this, but no sooner did the gallery start hanging my pieces than one of their most lucrative clients walked in and purchased my second to largest, and most expensive piece. She called my work innovative and powerful and wanted to be ahead of the trend, not following it. I’m on cloud 11. I can’t wait until the show. I have something to talk to you about after the show. See you Friday. Love, J.

Now I knew without a shadow of a doubt that I was doing the right thing. He wanted New York. He was thriving in New York and I could thrive with him, side by side, seven days a week.

I looked at the clock on the computer and headed off to lunch with Jennifer. It was time to move our lives forward, and this time I would lead the way and not force Justin to drag me kicking and screaming.

Lunch was relaxed, but I could see that Jennifer was trying to hide her anticipation regarding my earlier request. We chatted about Justin’s show and I shared his news about his big sale. She was thrilled and hoped he’d sent her an update as well. If he hadn’t, she’d call him later.

“Okay Brian. You had me bring my professional paperwork. Care to tell me why I’m lugging my briefcase to lunch? I’ve never done this before with you.”

I took a deep breath and hoped she’d understand. “It’s time that Justin and I are together -- full time.”

She smiled that soft smile she has, “I’m thrilled to hear that. It’s about time.”

“I agree. And it’s also about time that I got rid of the ball and chain that’s keeping us attached to the Pittsburgh area.”

“You’re not selling Kinnetik!” She looked panicked.

“No, No -- I want to sell Britin -- the house just over the West Virginia state line.”

She looked at me, shocked. “Brian, why? You love that place. You proposed to Justin there.”

“And he accepted, and then we had to cancel the wedding. I don’t think he associates it with the same fond memories that I still feel for that place.”

“So you want to sell it?”

“I want to sell it and buy a place in New York City. Not just a place for us to live, but a place for me to develop a New York City branch of Kinnetik, Inc.” There, I’d said it all and I didn’t fall apart or go up in smoke.

“Brian, are you sure about this? Have you talked to Justin about your plans?”

“You know how I feel about your son.”

“Of course I do.” There was that smile again. It always relaxed me, made everything around us calm, no matter what we were discussing.

“I don’t want to bother him now with the show just days away. He loves New York. He’s become successful in New York, and I don’t want him to feel obligated to leave for me.”

“But have you...”

I held up my hand to stop her so I could get everything out. “He would sacrifice his entire career for me -- fuck, he almost did. I can’t let him do that.”

“But you can sacrifice what’s important to you?” She placed her hand over mine on the table.

“I once thought that’s how it had to work, but I realize now that being with your son -- being with Justin -- no matter where we are, could never be a sacrifice. Fuck, I love that little shit despite everything I tried to do not to.”

“Why, Brian Kinney, I guess the scarecrow really does have a heart to accompany his brain.” She smirked.

“Well then, I guess this scarecrow had better go and share a life with his Dorothy.” My tongue slipped automatically towards my cheek.

“I’m not sure Justin would appreciate the analogy, but I do. I love you both, sweetheart, and I want you both to truly be happy. If you think this is what you want, I’ll move forward -- full speed ahead.”

“Good.”

“Just remember, selling an estate is not the same as selling a house. It will take some time; so just be patient.”

I took Jennifer’s hand in mine and squeezed it gently. “I trust you and your judgment. Call me when we get an offer and place the ads in all the papers that reach the rich and famous, who might be interested.”

“Okay.” She squeezed my hand back.

We finished our coffee in companionable silence, each wrapped around thoughts of Justin and the changes I had just made to give us a life together.

 

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