Domestic Bliss

Shit Fuck

"Shit! Fuck! And God damn!" Brian slammed down the phone receiver onto its base.

"Brian?" Ted asked as he walked into Brian's office amidst the tirade.

"What?" Brian retorted. He didn't want to talk to anyone at the moment.

"What's wrong, Boss?" Ted asked as he ventured into Brian's office amidst the tirade.

"That fucking asshole from Donovan Cleaners hates the ideas that Justin and I worked out for him."

"Can't you redo it?" Ted asked not realizing the minefield that he had stumbled into.

"Of course, I can fucking redo it!" Brian bellowed. "But why should I? The campaign we worked out is great."

"Then what's Donovan's problem?"

"He doesn't like it. He's got his head so far up his fucking ass that he wouldn't recognize the Mona Lisa if it was presented to him on a fucking silver platter. He thinks our ideas are too avant-garde. I wonder who taught him that fucking word."

"Remember that the customer is always right," Ted said trying to be helpful.

"Yeah, even when they're fucking wrong!" Brian griped.

"They often are."

"Ain't that the truth!" Brian shook his head in disbelief at the stupidity of his new client. "What do you want anyway, Schmidt?"

"Um … I came down here to tell you that the check from Dawson's bounced." Ted pulled his head into his neck and stared down at the floor waiting for the explosion.

"Bounced?" Brian practically screamed.

"Yeah," Ted said, continuing to stare at the floor to avoid looking at Brian's angry face.

"How the fuck can you run a business and bounce checks?" Brian demanded to know.

"Maybe that's why he needs you to promote his business. It looks like it's going under if something drastic doesn't happen."

"Just what I fucking needed!" Brian sighed leaning his head back in his chair. Could anything else go wrong? "I bust my ass to get that account and it's fucking worthless."

"I guess you can abandon that one," Ted suggested.

"The work on it's almost done," Brian sighed.

"Oh! Then maybe you should let him have the work and reap the rewards later," Ted dared to tell him.

"I can't afford to wait for rewards later. I need to be paid now."

"I think we can swing it if you let him ride until he can pay. It might be good publicity for 4Front among the business community in Pittsburgh."

"Just the kind of publicity I need. 4Front will take fucking charity cases. They'll be lining up out the door to get a piece of that," Brian said sarcastically.

"I … I didn't mean that we'd broadcast that Dawson can't pay. I meant that if you can turn his company around then we would get great word of mouth about what miracles our advertising company can work," Ted explained.

Brian looked thoughtful for a moment. "All right," he said finally. "We continue with Dawson, but get on the phone and tell him we know what a fucking asshole he is, and we'll be charging interest when he's able to pay."

Ted allowed himself a little smile. That was what he had been hoping Brian would say. "Will do, Boss."

"Any more fucking news like that for me?"

"No, Boss."

"Then get back to work."

"Yes, Boss." Ted beat a hasty retreat.

Brian leaned his head back in the chair and rubbed his eyes. He was fucking tired. He and Justin had been busting their butts, working till all hours of the night. And then Dawson pulls this fucking shit. The joys of owning his own company were beginning to settle in, and they certainly weren't all they had been cracked up to be, all that he'd hoped they'd be. Owning his own ad agency had been a dream for so long. Now that he had it, it couldn't be turning into a nightmare, could it?

"Brian," a familiar voice said.

"Yes, Cynthia."

"I … I need to take a couple of days off."

"What? Now?" Brian asked in disbelief.

"My aunt died. I just got word. She lives in Cleveland. I need to go up there to be with my mother. It was her only sister."

"Of course," Brian agreed with a sigh. "You should go."

"I'll try to set everything up so you'll be okay until I get back."

"Can you teach Schmidt to answer the phone?"

"Of course I can. It's not that hard," Cynthia assured him.

"You obviously haven't tried to teach Theodore something," Brian stated his tongue in his cheek.

"Ted's a very smart man," Cynthia said in defense of her colleague.

"No argument from me," Brian replied raising his hands in a gesture of agreement. "Good luck."

Cynthia frowned and then headed back to her desk. Brian let out a long sigh. What else could possibly go wrong on this lovely day?

"Brian," another familiar voice said.

"What?" Brian replied rather sharply.

"Sorry to bother you," Justin said turning around ready to leave Brian's office.

"Don't go," Brian commanded. "I'm just having a shitty day. I didn't mean to take it out on you."

"You're not going to like this any better," Justin warned.

Brian rubbed his hand across his eyes. He could feel the beginning of a colossal headache. "What is it?" he asked trying to keep his voice steady.

"I just got off the phone with our supplier. Our latest order of art supplies is in Peoria."

"Peoria? What the fuck!"

"Somehow their codes are very similar and the wrong one got punched in."

"How bad is it?"

"I can manage for a couple of days but we're going to start running out of materials after that. We only got a minimal order when we were starting up, and it's almost gone."

"Shit! When will the order get here?"

"Five days."

Brian felt his headache grow. They had to redo Donovan Cleaners for the shithead that owned it and there was a pile of work for Remsen. "Can they expedite?"

"Yeah, but it's almost double the cost," Justin explained.

"Tell them to do it. We'll cover the cost somehow."

"Do … do you think that's a good idea?" Justin asked. He knew that Brian never liked his judgment to be questioned.

"We'll manage," Brian glared, daring Justin to question him.

"Okay, I'll go call them back."

Justin quickly left the office. He had misgivings about this. It would be very costly. He'd minimized their initial order thinking it would save money until they were fully up and running. Now it was going to cost them big time. How could he have been so stupid!

Brian watched Justin walk out of the office. He had tried to remain optimistic about this new turn of events, but it really was a fuck up. The damn supply company that made the fucking mistake should at least split the difference with the expedited rates. He should call them and raise a stink.

He had just started to look up their number on the computer when Cynthia buzzed him.

"It's Lindsay on line one," she said.

"Thanks." He picked up the receiver and hit one. "Hey, what's up?"

"Brian, Gus has strep throat."

"What?" Brian asked in surprise.

"I just brought him back from the doctor. He's on a round of antibiotics."

"Shit!"

"He wanted to talk to you."

"Put him on," Brian instructed. "Hey, Sonny Boy, you not feeling so good?"

"No, Dada. I feel awful," Gus replied, reverting to his old title for his father.

"You take your medicine and get lots of sleep. You'll be good as new in a few days."

"Yes, Daddy."

"I love you, Gus."

"I love you too. Can you come see me?"

Brian rubbed his eyes. "I'm very busy right now," he tried to explain.

"After dinner?" Gus said hopefully.

"I don't know, Gus."

"Please," the boy wheedled.

Brian knew Gus must be feeling really awful if he was whining. He usually didn't do that, knowing that his father didn't appreciate him acting like that. "I'll see what I can do," Brian said slowly.

"I love you, Dada."

"I'll see you soon."

"Mama wants to talk to you."

"Okay, Gus. Bye." Brian waited to hear what Melanie had to say to him.

"Asshole, what did you do with Gus on the weekend to make him so sick? Don't you have an ounce of common sense where your son is concerned? How could you be so negligent to let him get sick?" Melanie ranted.

"I didn't…"

"Oh, don't you fucking try to get out of the responsibility. Gus came home from your place sneezing, and then he got a fever, and then this horrible sore throat. It's all your fault."

"Fine," Brian said. "It's my fault." Then he slammed the receiver back on the base.

He leaned back in his chair and closed his eyes. Could there possibly be anything else that could go wrong?

"Brian."

"What?" He refused to open his eyes. If it was more crap, he didn't want to hear about it.

"There's someone here to see you," Cynthia said.

"Who?"

"It's me, you big goof," Michael's cheery voice came across the room.

"Mikey, what the fuck do you want?" Brian said finally opening his eyes.

"A warm greeting would be a good start."

"What are you doing here?"

"I came to visit you."

"Shouldn't you be working?"

"It's almost six. The workday is done."

"For some of us," Brian sighed.

"Come to the diner and let's have dinner together."

"I can't."

"Why not? I never see you anymore," Michael said trying not to whine. He hadn't seen his best friend since they had all helped with painting the old mansion. Brian never bothered to call him.

"I'm trying to start a new business, Mikey. I don't have time for dinner and socializing."

"But you have to eat," Michael protested.

"I have hours of work to do, and you're using up my valuable time," Brian stated rather harshly.

"Well, thanks," Michael said crossing his arms on his chest and giving Brian his best hurt puppy eyes.

"I … I really can't go with you," Brian repeated. Michael always knew how to make him feel bad when he didn't do what Michael wanted.

"Come for a quick burger. It'll only take a half an hour," Michael wheedled.

"Christ!" Brian reacted. "You're worse that Gus."

"Then you'll come?"

Brian made a face. He really shouldn't leave. There was too much to do. "Let me check with Justin."

"I guess he can come with us … if he wants."

"He is coming with us, if he wants." Brian punched the numbers on the phone that rang through to the art department. Justin answered almost immediately.

"What can I do for you, Boss?" Justin joked, hoping that might cheer Brian up a bit after the bad news he had just given him.

"Michael's here. He wants us to go for a quick dinner with him," Brian explained.

"No can do. I'm in the middle of the new Remsen graphics. I need to finish them."

"How long will you be?"

"Maybe an hour. You go with Michael. I'll meet you at home."

Brian sighed. He had been doing a lot of sighing today. He wanted to have dinner with Justin at home, and then he wanted to fuck and leave the shitload of business crap that he had been dealing with at the office, instead of dragging it home with them every night. But Michael was waiting, and he did have to eat.

"I won't be late," Brian said before hanging up. "Let's go," he told Michael. He didn't particularly want to eat or spend time with Michael, but if he did this now, he might not have to do it again for a few weeks. It was easier than trying to reason with his best friend.

They walked out into the foyer where Cynthia was giving Ted his first lesson on the fine art of being a receptionist. Neither of them looked happy.

"Don't give her a hard time, Schmidt. We need her to come back to us after the funeral."

Cynthia gave Brian a wan smile. "Thanks, Boss."

"See you in a few days," Brian said before walking out with Michael.

They drove in Debbie's old rattle trap car that Michael had borrowed to get him to 4Front. Of course when they got to the diner, Debbie was working. He should have known, Brian thought as they slid into a booth.

"You look tired, kiddo," Debbie said to Brian when she came over to take their orders.

"What do you expect?" Brian asked snarkily. He was in no mood for her telling him to take things easy.

"I know you're starting a new business, but you need to take care of yourself," she admonished.

"Thank you, Maw. I'll have a turkey sandwich…"

"On whole wheat with no mayo. I know," Debbie sighed.

"Burger and fries, Ma," Michael told her.

"Coming right up. You should be having a steak and plenty of vegetables," she felt compelled to tell Brian.

"Bring me my fucking sandwich," Brian growled.

"Yes, your majesty," Debbie said with all the sarcasm she could muster.

"Brian," Michael interjected. "Don't be mean to Ma. She's only trying to help. You do look tired."

"I am tired, Michael. There's a lot of work … and responsibility running your own business."

"I know. I have the comic book shop now."

"Yeah, sure. That's exactly the same as running 4Front."

"You are in a shitty mood," Michael stated. "I'm sorry I asked you to come to dinner."

I rub my eyes. "I shouldn't have said that. I'm just … tired."

"I think we've established that fact."

I sigh mightily. I can never win with Michael.

"Here's your food," Debbie said, plunking our plates down on the table.

Brian noted that she had also brought a dish of vegetables. He raised his eyebrow and looked up at her.

"Eat them," she ordered before heading off to deal with other customers.

Michael and Brian ate mostly in silence. Once Brian got started, he found that he was quite hungry. He ate all the vegetables and most of the sandwich.

"That's good," Debbie approved as she removed the plates.

"I need to get going," Brian told both of them.

"I can drive you," Michael offered.

"Yeah," Brian agreed. "It's a little far to walk."

"It was easier when you lived at the loft."

"Yeah, easier."

Brian's stomach started to feel a little funny as he walked out to the car. He slumped into the passenger seat and Michael started the car. By the time they got to the house, Brian was almost asleep.

"Hey, we're here," Michael said as he stopped the car in the driveway.

"I guess Justin's home. His car is here," Brian said. He made the supreme effort of opening the door and climbing out of Michael's car. He leaned in and said good night to Michael. When he stood back up, he felt a little light headed. He watched Michael back out of the driveway and then he headed for the front door.

He didn't remember there being so many steps up to the door. He kept climbing, even though his legs weren't very cooperative. Finally he got to the door and stuck his key in the lock. He turned it and opened the door.

"Is that you, Brian?" Justin called from the den.

"How many other people have a fucking key?" Brian asked.

"Oh, all my lovers do," Justin joked.

"Smart ass!" Brian grumbled.

He walked towards the den. Suddenly he felt very hot.

"Justin!" he said. "I don't feel so good."

"What?" Justin asked rushing to his side.

"I don't feel good," Brian repeated.

Justin grabbed Brian around the waist as he started to sway unsteadily on his feet. "Easy, Brian. Come sit down." He helped Brian over to the couch.

Once Brian was seated, Justin placed his hand on Brian's forehead. "You're burning up," he stated.

"This is all I need. Shit! Fuck!"

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