The Other Foot

Chapter Eight

Brian called Justin late Thursday. The youngster was lying in the large bed, unable to sleep.

“Can you come to New York this weekend?”

“Do you want to see me or do you want me to get my shit out of the Plaza and fuck off?”

“I want to see you. Will you come?”

“…I’ll be on the six o’clock flight. If there’s a change, call me…Brian? Is it over?”

“No—I don’t want it to be. You’ll come? We do have to talk, but I want you and I want to go through with the plans we made for the townhouse and your transfer and the rest of it.”

“What about Steve?”

“Justin, I don’t want to have this conversation on the phone…We’ll talk tomorrow, OK?”

“…Yeah. Sure. I love you, Brian.”

“I know that you do. Good night. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

A few minutes after the call ended Brian locked up the cabin, got into Steve’s Jag and headed back to the city.

Justin spent a sleepless night wondering if he was flying to New York to be told, politely, to please have a nice life and now fuck off.

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Brian walked into his office at eight the next morning, knowing that Steve had covered for him all week, but wanting to get back into work. Around nine Cynthia saw him through the open door, welcomed him back and asked if she could get him anything.

Was Steve in? No? Please ask if Brian could see him in private when he arrives.

About a half hour later Brian’s phone rang.

“Brian? I have a message that you’d like to see me. Shall I come over?”

“That’s alright, I can come to your office. I’ll be right there.”

Three minutes later he was sitting on Steve’s couch with Steve a couple of feet away in a chair.

“Thanks for letting me use your place.” He smiled. “It’s like you, quiet and solid and unpretentious.”

“I thought that you’d be comfortable there.”

“I was.”

“You should use it when ever you want, it just sits empty most of the time. I’d love to show you some of my favorite spots up there…What?”

“I’ve asked Justin to come this weekend. I’m going to tell him that I want us to move into the townhouse in a couple of weeks when it’s ready.”

Steve took a breath. “I see.” He wanted to say more. “Are you sure?”

“Steve, look, I’m not. That’s the problem. I spent the entire time up there trying to imagine what would happen if either scenario played out—with either you or Justin and the thing is that I want you both and I know that neither of you would be able to live with that.”

“Brian, if you’re still not sure, why are you moving him in with you?”

“I do love him and I know he loves me. We understand each other. Besides, at this point he’s committed to moving to New York. He’s transferred to Parsons and that’s something that’s important to him. He did that on my account, I can’t just abandon him.”

“But you told me that you’re more at ease, more at peace when we’re together. That must count, for God’s sake.”

“I think I’m more comfortable with you than I am with anyone I’ve met…but the fucking truth is that I want both of you, and I know that I can’t have that.”

“Are you asking me to wait and see what happens with you and the kid?”

“I’m asking you to not completely shut the door. At the very least, I want your friendship. I want that very much.”

“Will Justin be able to accept that?”

“He’ll have to.”

“So, as you see it, we can work together and remain friends, but you’ll live with Justin at least until you see if that’s working and if it’s not, I get my chance at bat. Does that about sum it up?”

“Steve, this is hard for me, too. I can’t just dump Justin and you told me that you thought that we could be friends. Have you changed your mind?”

“I think that it’s going to be difficult. I think that we could be damn good together and I think that you might be making a mistake, but if that’s what we have for now, then I’ll accept it—for now.”

The two men exchanged a long look. They both knew what they had and what it could have become if they had let it, what it might still become.

“Steve, are we still friends?”

Getting up he leaned down and kissed Brian on the lips, chastely, mouth closed. “Yes, we’re still friends.” He wasn’t going to ask, but he had to. “You love me, don’t you?”

He caught his breath and inhaled before answering. “Yeah, I do, but I love him too.” Brian stood, facing him, his hand coming up to his neck in a caress. “Thank you.” He gave Steve a kiss in return then, having said everything that he could, went back to work.

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Justin arrived later that day and was met by Brian with a kiss and a single yellow rose.

“Why yellow?”

“So that you’d know it’s different than last time.”

Relieved, Justin, wrapped his arms around Brian, laughing about his allergies and happy enough not to notice that Brian hadn’t really smiled since they had seen one another

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A few weeks later the two of them moved into the townhouse. It was beautiful and a showplace and Justin and Brian enjoyed decorating it and showing it off to the friends from Pittsburgh who showed up for visits now and then during the summer.

Jennifer brought Molly and exclaimed over the cost of everything and the pace of New York. Justin was embarrassed by thinking that he had come from a family of yokels until Brian told him to behave himself. After hat they all seemed to relax and simply enjoy one another. One day they arranged to meet Brian at his office so that they could all have dinner and, arriving early had been given a tour. Molly was impressed and giggled when everyone called him ‘Mr. Kinney’ and Jen was impressed by the caliber of the work she saw being done.

When they encountered Steve in the art department, Jen smiled politely when he joked about her being the ‘mother in law’ and noticed that his eyes followed Brian as he moved about the room. She didn’t say anything, but she saw that he and Justin seemed to take one another’s measure and Brian subtly moved them along.

Something was going on that Justin hadn’t told her about and she suspected that it involved this man. She had believed for years now that Brian would hurt Justin and now she thought that she knew how it would happen. She wondered if she should say something before she left but, knowing that they had to work this out themselves, kept her own counsel.

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Fall

The two men, Brian and Justin moved into an easy routine of work, school and explorations of the city. They were starting to make friends, Justin at Parsons and Brian through his contacts at work. Things were settled and comfortable and they went through their days with a minimum of turmoil beyond the stress of their normal lives.

Brian’s handling of the merger had been a success and Steve had been able to cut back his hours as he had originally hoped to do. He now could be expected in the office only two or three days a week and often spent time up at his cabin, usually alone.

He and Brian tried to maintain a friendship, but—not surprisingly—it was awkward. They would still lunch together when they could and hit the gym a couple of nights a week, but the easy comradie, the comfortable silences and general feeling of joy in being together was strained.

The attraction was still there and hadn’t lessened in any way, but neither acted on it.

Perhaps that was the problem.

Finally, one day in early November He walked into Brian’s office and told him that he would be going to London for a couple of months. He would be visiting friends, mostly, but he would also be checking out the possibilities of opening a London office.

Nodding, understanding why he was doing this, Brian wished him all the best—and meant it. Shaking hands as he was about to go, he leaned towards Brian and asked him to leave the doors open.

Nodding, Brian restrained himself and kept their contact to the simple handshake.

With Steve gone from his daily life, Brian concentrated on Justin. They had more time together, saw more movies, had more dinners out, saw more shows and exhibits and worked longer hours. When calls or faxes came in from Steve, he would deal with them and take whatever action was appropriate, but acknowledge nothing beyond the business end of things.

Seeing all this as clearly as she saw everything involving Brian, Cynthia said nothing until the day she asked him why he just didn’t call the man so that they could have it out, get things settled and let the poor man move on.

Refusing to engage, Brian gave his standard reply of “Fuck off” and that was the end of the discussion.

Knowing that his main competition was out of the picture, at least for now and feeling that Brian was back emotionally, Justin was happy again, in an uncomplicated way. He smiled more, wanted to make love more and produced more and better works for school.

Brian worked longer hours, as the man in charge, and looked forward to the down time the two of them had alone together.

They were happy, they were successful and they were in love.

It was a good time for them.

Around the second week of December Justin came in with that look on his face that Brian knew meant that he’d had some idea, probably a lameass one and wanted to run it by.

“What?”

“I was thinking today, you know, we didn’t have a house warming and…”

“A house warming? That is so fucking faggot.”

“Fuck you. We didn’t have one and it’s almost Christmas, we should have a party.”

“And what do I have to do?” Actually, he’d realized that he should have one for the employees and was about to dump it on Cynthia the next day anyway.

“Nothing. Just show up.”

“And pay for it.”

The sunshine smile. “Right.”

Brian had Justin get a hold of Cyn and the two of them made all the arrangements—caterers, flowers, and servers, all of it. Since it was given by the boss, nearly everyone knew they had to make an appearance and a few were curious enough about Brian’s personal life to look forward to being in his home.

The night of the party the townhouse was filled, the music was good, the food fabulous, everyone had dressed and the wine flowed. Brian had even agreed to a Christmas tree as long as it wasn’t obnoxious or overdone. Seeing that as a challenge, since Christmas trees are always overdone, Justin came up with a minimalist theme that actually worked. Justin’s friends mingled well with the crowd, knowing that there were potential job contacts around, and the office people were comfortable enough to enjoy themselves.

It had that noisy, feel that good parties have when it’s gelling and Justin found Brian in the living room to hug him and kiss him in thanks for his cooperating with the whole thing.

It was going well and looked like it would last for a while.

“I’ll thank you better later.”

“Count on it. Or we could go upstairs now for a while, no one would notice.”

“That is so fucking tacky.”

“Wasp twat. When the fuck did you get self conscious?”

“Later. I’ll make it up to you.”

“Fucking A, bitch.” Hugging, kissing and Justin laughing…it was a good party. The crowd was growing, almost everyone having brought someone and more people kept arriving. Justin lost track of who was there. He heard one of Brian’s art directors calling him. “Brian! You won’t believe who the cat dragged in—get over here!”

About eleven thirty, with the party still in full swing and the two men busy being hosts, Justin opened the pantry to get another case of wine for the wait staff.

Pushing open the door he surprised the two men who were embracing, kissing and pressed so fucking close together that he was surprised that they could breath.

Brian, Steve.

Startled, they looked at him.

“…Back from London for the holidays, I take it?”

“Justin…”

“Don’t let me interrupt. Please, go on.” Taking the wine, he closed the door behind him, gave it to the waiters and headed directly upstairs to the closed off bedroom.

That was where Brian found him a few minutes later.

“Is he back for good now?”

“Yes.”

“I’ll leave in the morning.”

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