Dumb Blond

Chapter 13

Brian wrote as small as he could to make all his words fit on the small post-it note.  He managed to squeeze it all on.  He sat back and read what he had written.  It was way too long and complicated.  It needed to be short and to the point.  This one stank, like all the other ones he had written.  He crushed the note in his hand and added it to the pile of crumpled up post-it notes on his desk. 

He had spent the last half hour trying to find just the right wording for his message to the unknown advertising genius.  So far it was not going well.  Usually words were his friend, but not today.  He wanted to get this just right.  Some of his notes had sounded too sarcastic.  Others were cloying.  He needed to find just the right balance.

He leaned back in his chair and closed his eyes trying to figure out exactly what to say.  He wanted to keep this person communicating through the notes until he could figure out who it was.  He didn’t want to scare him off by being too pushy or too abrupt.  He didn’t want to sound insincere.  There had to be something he could say that would strike a happy medium.

After a few minutes, Brian decided to try again.  He took another post-it and wrote:

Baldessarini is a great scent.  What catch phrase would you use to advertise it?  BK

Brian read and reread what he had written.  He liked it.  It was definitely the best thing he had written so far.  It asked whoever this unknown person was to use his brain.  It didn’t demean the guy by pointing out that you didn’t just pick a product and do the advertising for it.  And it asked for a reply.  All these things were positives in the quest to try to discover who was doing this.

Brian gathered up all the failed attempts at a note and dropped them into the wastebasket beside his desk.  He took the post-it over to the boards and stuck it in a new spot on one of them.  Now all he had to do was wait for a reply.

*****

Justin finished up his last session at Club Emvic.  He was really tired but no one in the audience was aware of that.  Justin always gave all he had to his act.  It was part of his “being proud of what he did” philosophy.  To do less than his best would be a discredit to the club and to himself.  He refused to do that.

When Justin had changed into his street clothes, he went to Emmett and Vic’s office.  He always got paid on Tuesdays.  Weekends were when the club was always the fullest, and those were the nights that Club Emvic made its profits.  By Tuesday the club's finances were in order and paychecks had been cut.

“Come in, Justin,” Emmett said.  He and Vic were in the office dispensing checks to the acts that worked on Tuesday.

“We had a pretty good crowd tonight,” Justin said as he sat down.

“Yeah, it’s always a bigger crowd when you perform,” Vic stated.

“Really?”

“Mondays and Wednesdays are pretty dead,” Emmett supplied.

“I’m sorry to hear that.”

“So are we,” Emmett said making a face.  “Actually, we were wondering if you might like to dance every night.”

“Every night?”

“Yes, you’re our star attraction.  You bring in more customers than anybody else.  We could use the business every night, not just some nights.”

“I … I don’t know what to say.  I have another job on the nights I’m not here.  I don’t think I can fit any more into my life right now,” Justin explained.

“I thought you’d probably say that,” Vic said.  “It was worth a shot to ask.”

“I’m flattered that you want me, but it’s tiring dancing, and I have school to think about.  I’m spread pretty thin already,” Justin added.

“We understand,” Emmett sighed.  “We’re just trying to increase business.”

“I thought there were more people coming in lately,” Justin said uncertainly.  It sounded like the club might be in trouble.

“Business has gone up a bit.  We’ve started to advertise in the gay papers on Liberty.  That seems to be helping a bit,” Vic told Justin.

“Brian suggested that, and a couple of other things we’re considering doing,” Emmett commented.

“Brian?” Justin asked, his ears perking up at the mention of the man.  “Why is he giving you business suggestions?”

“He’s very business savvy, and he runs an ad agency.”

Justin flinched.  It couldn’t be, could it?  It would be just too weird and too much of a coincidence.  It wasn’t possible, was it?  “Um, I have to go,” Justin said standing up quickly.  He needed to get out of there.  He needed to think.  He grabbed his check from the desk.

“See you Thursday night,” Vic called to him as he hurried out of the office.

Justin ran out of the building heading for his bus stop.  His heart was pounding and his breathing was raspy.  Could his Brian be the person whose ad agency he worked in with Joe?  The initials on all his notes had been BK.  The B could stand for Brian.  But it could also stand for a lot of other names.  He had never asked what Brian’s last name was.  He should have asked Emmett, but he just had to get out of that office.  He needed to think, to figure out what to do.

The bus pulled up at his stop.  He got on and collapsed into a seat.  His mind was in turmoil as he rode back to his little apartment.

*****

When Brian arrived at Kinnetik the next day, Cynthia handed him a list of all the people who had been to Kinnetik over the last two months.  Brian glanced at it as he went into his office.  It wasn’t a long list, but there were two names that appeared again and again.  The cleaning service and a courier service.  The courier service was at Kinnetik almost every day.  They were either picking up deliveries or dropping things off.  Brian wondered if the courier would have time to pop into his office and place the post-it note.  It didn’t seem likely, especially if the person needed to study the advertising boards before making suggestions.

The cleaning service came every Monday, Wednesday and Friday late at night.  That had been an economy that Brian had decided on when they first got Kinnetik up and running.  They had left it that way because the service did such a good job that having them come every other day seemed good enough.  They would be alone in the building for several hours each night.

Brian sat down in his chair as he thought about the cleaning service.  It must be them, someone who came to work at Kinnetik on a regular basis, and someone who would be alone in his office long enough to read the notes and compose responses.

Brian’s brow furrowed.  He got up from his chair and went to look at the Eyeconics boards.  Tomorrow they would be replaced with the new Blush campaign.  His note was still attached to the board.  It hadn’t been answered. 

Thinking back to the other notes, Brian was pretty sure that they had come every other day.  There was never an answer immediately.  That had puzzled him.  And now, knowing that the cleaning service was there every other day, it started to make sense.  Tomorrow he should have a reply to his note.  Then he would know for sure.

*****

Justin reported to his job with Joe right on time.  He was a little apprehensive about going back to the advertising company.  However, everything seemed to be the same as always, as he went about his tasks.  He and Joe met in the break room as they usually did.  Lydia had made cream of broccoli soup which was delicious.  They ate in silence until they finished the soup.

As Joe took out the sandwich he said to Justin, “Lydia’s good for tomorrow.”

“Huh?” Justin responded.

“To come to PIFA?”  Joe looked at Justin wondering at the rather strange reply to his statement.  “Unless you’ve changed your mind,” Joe added.

“No, no,” Justin said.  “I really want to meet Lydia, and I think you’ll enjoy seeing where I go to school.”

“I think we will too, but you seem a little distracted tonight.”

“Maybe a little,” Justin admitted.

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing I can really explain.”

“Maybe Lydia and I will be able to cheer you up tomorrow,” Joe suggested.

“That would be good,” Justin said with some sadness in his voice.  He felt like his safe little world, as ugly as it could sometimes be, was changing.  He wasn’t sure that was a good thing.

He cleaned up after they were finished eating.  Then with some trepidation he went into the main office.  He glanced at the boards.  It looked like there was a new post-it note, but he had told himself that from now on he was going to ignore them.  He would stop playing the game and be happy with what he had.  He couldn’t risk being found out, and he didn’t want Joe to get into trouble.

Justin finished his cleaning ending with dusting the big desk.  He had denied himself a sniff of the Baldessarini cologne.  He was going to cut himself off from contact with whoever was leaving the notes, especially if that might turn out to be his Brian.

When he was finished with the desk, Joe still hadn’t called for him.  He couldn’t resist going over to read the note.  He was being asked for a slogan of some sort for the cologne.  It didn’t contain any negative or threatening comments.  Justin reconsidered answering it.  He had thought about how he would advertise Baldessarini.  He wanted to answer but he knew it was better if he didn’t.

He turned away as he heard Joe bringing the big polisher to the front foyer.  It was time to go.  He looked longingly at the note, but left it where it was and went to find Joe.

*****

When Brian entered his office, the first thing he did was to look at the boards for the post-it note he had left there.  He frowned when he noted that it seemed to be in the same place he had put it.  He dropped his briefcase by the desk and walked over to the boards.  It was his note.  There was no reply.  He scanned the other boards just to be sure, but he knew that his note had not been answered as he had predicted it would be.

Could he have been totally wrong about the cleaning service?  He glanced into his wastebasket and found it empty.  All the post-its he had written and discarded were gone.  The cleaners had been there.

So what had happened?  Why was there no answer to his question on the note?  He sat down heavily in his chair.  He had been so sure he had figured it out.  But it looked like he was entirely wrong.  He closed his eyes and tried to think of what he might have missed.

*****

Justin rushed out of his lecture and down to the parking area outside PIFA.  He saw Joe and a tall black woman standing beside Joe’s van.  That had to be Lydia.  She stood proudly beside her husband.  She was beautiful.

“Hey,” he said in greeting.

“Justin, I’d like you to meet my beautiful and talented wife, Lydia,” Joe said with obvious pride in his voice.

“Lydia,” Justin said holding out his hand.  She took it and held it gently as she looked into Justin’s eyes.  He felt a lump expand in his throat, and he cleared it with a little cough.  It was a mother’s touch.  He had not felt that in a very long time.  “I … I’m so happy to meet you.  I’ve enjoyed your soups and sandwiches immensely.  You and Joe have been so kind to me.”

“It was our pleasure,” Lydia said as she finally released his hand.  “We can’t wait to have you show us around.”

“That will be my pleasure,” Justin replied offering her his arm.

They strolled through the campus while Justin pointed out the various buildings.  Justin decided they should go for lunch before he took them to his space to see his latest painting, the one he was so proud of.

They enjoyed soup and wraps at the cafeteria, and Justin insisted on paying.  When Joe protested, Lydia placed her hand on his arm and looked into his eyes.  Joe said nothing more about paying for lunch.  He understood that it would be an insult to their host to insist upon paying.

As they ate, Lydia asked, “Justin, where is your family?”

Justin blanched.  He couldn’t refuse to answer, but he wasn’t sure how much he wanted to reveal.  After a minute he said, “We’re … estranged.  I haven’t seen them in almost a year.”

“That’s terrible,” Lydia said with a sad look in her eye.  “I hope that isn’t your choice.  Family is very important.”

Justin shook his head.  “I miss my family so much,” he managed to get out in a strangled voice.

Lydia waited while he composed himself.  “It must have been very hard for you.  What happened?”

“It’s a long story,” Justin said not sure he wanted to get into it.

“We have all afternoon,” Lydia said gently.  “It might help to talk about it.”

Justin studied her beautiful, kind face.  If he could tell anybody it would be her.  He took a deep breath and began.  “I lived in the suburbs with my mother, father and sister.  People would say we had it all.  Everything was great until I began to realize that I was gay.  I tried to tell my mother a couple of times, but she didn’t want to hear it.  She’d change the subject or start talking about phases if I said anything related to being gay.  Finally I just stopped trying to tell her.”

“What about your dad?” Joe asked.

“I knew he would be disappointed in me, so I didn’t want to tell him.  What I didn’t know or expect was that he would be furious with me.  He … hates me,” Justin said choking on the words.

“That can’t be,” Lydia said gently patting his hand across the table. 

“He does.  He told me as much,” Justin stated looking into her kind eyes. 

“How could a father say such a thing?” Joe asked.  Lydia merely shook her head, tears forming in her eyes.

“It was the night of my senior prom in high school.  That’s when everything came to a head.  My mother had arranged for me to take a girl from down the street to the prom, since I didn’t have a girlfriend of my own.  She could never understand why, since I was so handsome in her eyes.  And since she chose not to deal with my sexuality.”

“She just couldn’t face the prospect of you being gay,” Lydia supplied.

Justin nodded.  “I had been seeing this guy in school.  He was the captain of the football team, so we had to be real careful.  His teammates would have had a fit if they knew he had homosexual tendencies.  He even taunted and teased me in public to hide what we did in private.  We were just experimenting, finding our way.  It mostly consisted of kissing and jerking each other off.”  Justin blushed as he looked up at Lydia.  “I’m sorry if this is too much information.”

“It’s fine,” Lydia said.  “You need to get it all out.”

Justin swallowed, another lump forming in his throat.  “The night of the prom I slipped away from my ‘date’ and met Chris, Chris Hobbs was his name, in the restroom.  We were kissing when his teammates came looking for him.  They saw us, and one guy went ballistic.  He started screaming about fucking fags, and how they couldn’t stand them, and they should beat the shit out of both of us.

“Chris got really mad.  He told them to fuck off and took a swing at the loudmouth.  They all pounced on him beating him so bad.  I tried to pull some of them off but somebody swung at me and I fell over backwards.  I must have hit my head when I fell.  The next thing I knew the principal was standing over me.  He was trying to get me to wake up.

“When I regained my senses I asked about Chris.  Nobody would tell me anything.  Then the paramedics came.  They wouldn’t let me get up.  They strapped me onto a gurney and took me out.  I saw Chris still lying on the floor.  I couldn’t do anything to help him.”  Justin’s voice broke as he remembered that terrible night.

“But you recovered,” Joe said.  “You’re strong.”

“I was in the hospital for a couple of days.  I had a concussion.  I kept asking about Chris, and finally they told me that he was dead.  His teammates had smashed his head against the restroom floor.  And … he died.”

“What about your parents?” Lydia asked.

“My mother came every day, but now everybody knew I was gay.  I asked about my father and she would put me off.  I knew he must be mad at me.  He hated his private business being public knowledge.  I had let him down.  The day I was to be released from the hospital, both my parents came to my room.  I was relieved to see my father … finally.  But then he started talking.  He said he wanted me to make a decision that would affect the rest of my life.  He would pay for the hospital, and I could come home … if I agreed never to be with another boy.  He would not have the family further disgraced by my perversions.  I would have to be normal.  He seemed to think I could just change what I was.  I told him I couldn’t promise that.  He was carrying a duffel bag and he set it on the bed telling me I could do what he asked or I could take the bag containing a few clothes and he would never see me again.

“I told him I couldn’t do what he wanted, that it would be denying who I was.  His eyes filled with anger and hate.  He said he would not have a son who was a pervert.  He would rather have no son at all than a son who was a faggot.  He would never speak of me again, and I should never try to contact them.  I ceased to exist for him at that moment.”

“And your mother?” Lydia asked softly.

“She looked sad, but she wouldn’t contradict him.  She walked away with him.  From that moment on I was on my own.”

“And you’ve managed to build a life for yourself,” Lydia assured him even though he shook his head.  He wanted to tell her that it wasn’t much of a life.  “Let’s go see your wonderful painting,” she suggested.  That was one way to lighten the mood.  They all needed time to digest what had just happened.

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