Mayor Kinney

* 36 *

Brian awoke to murky darkness. His head was pounding and he felt like crap. He glanced at the nightstand looking for the time. A red digital clock showed 4:51. It wasn't his clock. He sat up a bit looking around. Where was he?

Slowly things began to gel in his foggy brain. He had told the taxi driver to take him to a hotel downtown. He had checked in after being cruised by one of the bellhops. The guy was short and sort of muscular, not bad looking, but nothing to rave about. Brian had no bags so he had nodded to the bellhop indicating his interest. They had a fleeting conversation before Brian got on the elevator.

Brian gave him his room number. The bellhop got off work at ten and was eager to join Brian when he did. As an afterthought Brian gave the guy fifty bucks and told him to get a couple of bottles of Beam. He was to bring them up to Brian's room as soon as he got them.

The man arrived fifteen minutes later. Brian let him in. He opened the first bottle and chugged back about a quarter of it. The liquor hit him like a sledgehammer. He was getting out of the habit of drinking. He would rectify that oversight immediately.

The bellhop hung by the door looking longingly at Brian. Brian was tempted to tell him to get lost while he got plastered. Instead, his other pain management technique kicked in. With a jerk of his head he signaled the man to come closer. He grabbed the guy's package and squeezed. The man let out a moan and tried to kiss Brian. Brian pulled back and pushed the man to his knees. The man immediately understood his place and unzipped Brian's trousers.

The blowjob was nothing to write home about but it served the purpose. Brian told the guy to get lost until he was through work. If he came back then, he better be prepared for one hell of a workout. Brian had seen the flicker of lust and also of fear pass across the man's face. He knew he would be back. They always came at his beckoning.

Brian flung his arm out to the side and it brushed against something. Fuck! The trick was still there. He had been pretty drunk when the guy had finally arrived after work. That just meant that it slowed things down a little. He had fucked the guy at least three times that he could remember. He wasn't sure how many times he had made him suck him off. It didn't matter. The trick had served his purpose and he should have been long gone. Brian reached over and gave the guy a shove. He heard a groan in response. He shoved again.

"Are you up for another go?" the man asked.

Brian felt his cock twitch at the invitation. He could always get it up when there was a ready hole to plant it in.

"Get out," he said without any emotion in his voice.

"What?" the man asked rubbing his eyes.

"I said … get out!" Brian said forcefully.

"What do you mean?"

"I mean get your clothes on and fucking leave," Brian spat out.

"But why? I can go again if you want."

"I knew you weren't the brightest bulb in the hallway, but I didn't think you were fucking dense. Get the fuck out!" Brian punctuated each word.

The bellhop grabbed his clothes mumbling something about assholes who had more money than brains. When he reached the door he turned back to Brian and shouted, "Fuck you!" as he slammed out of the room.

"Not in this lifetime," Brian mumbled and closed his eyes.

It would be dawn in a couple of hours. What was he going to do? He knew he didn't want to go to work. He was never going back there. If his decisions caused people to die then he was through. They didn't really need him anyway. Geoffrey and Cynthia could run the city perfectly well without him. He was the speech maker but they wrote the speeches. They knew which policies were good ones. Who the fuck was he kidding thinking that he could make a difference?

He grabbed the second bottle of Beam. The first one was long gone. He drank hungrily. It would work its magic and he could fall into senseless oblivion. That was what he needed right now.

A few more drinks and he began to feel the numbness that he had been seeking. He was almost there. Peace. Then it all shattered around him. He thought of Justin, probably up all night wondering where the fuck he was … and worrying. Brian felt his dick harden as he thought of the beautiful blond waiting for him at home. He groaned and took another drink. He could blank that out too.

The next time Brian woke there was light in the room coming through a crack in the drapes. He glanced at the clock. It was just after ten am.

Brian rolled over and immediately regretted that action. His head throbbed dully and he reached for the remains of the bottle of Beam. He took a swig mumbling, "Hair of the dog," to the empty room. He felt the liquor course through his system and he felt a little better.

He really was an alcoholic just like dear old dad. Up to now he had had enough willpower to refuse to let the liquor take over completely, but he didn't want to fight it anymore. Booze was his friend, at the moment his only friend.

He drank a few more mouthfuls, closing his eyes and hoping to find alcoholic oblivion once more.

-----

Justin paced the loft. He had tried to sit down and wait patiently but that was impossible. He had been awake all night and was running entirely on nervous energy. He didn't know what had happened to Brian, but he knew instinctively that it was something bad. Brian had not come home. He had always come home before. Ever since their stupid rule about the three am. curfew they had both pretty much adhered to that time for being home. He had no idea what might have happened to Brian. That wasn't really true. He had an idea what might have happened to Brian, but he didn't want to believe that the man had run away from the death of the homeless woman, from his job, from their life together, from him.

Justin had called the mayor's office at eight o'clock only to get a recording indicating that the office was closed. He had been puzzled by that, but thought maybe Brian had had an evening meeting or commitment that he had forgotten to tell him about. He had tried Brian's cell but it was shut off, maybe meaning that Brian was someplace that he couldn't use the phone.

He had called Chuck at ten o'clock wondering what was still keeping Brian away. He had expected the mayor home for dinner. Dinner time had long since come and passed and yet there was no sign of him. It wasn't like Brian to not let him know what he was doing. Chuck had gone home thinking that the mayor was working late and would call if he wanted the limo.

That's when Justin had started to worry. He called Cynthia and Geoffrey who both said they hadn't seen Brian since the press conference. They had just assumed that he had gone home.

Justin had then called Chuck and asked him to check around and see if anybody had seen Brian. He was waiting for Chuck to call with what he had found out.

Justin knew that Brian must be hurting. Nobody really understood how deeply Brian felt things. Even Brian found it hard to acknowledge the depths of his emotions. The death of that woman would cause him severe pain. Justin understood that Brian would somehow take it as a personal failure on his part. He would feel the loss and have to deal with the pain as best he could.

All the old pain management techniques that Brian had employed before he met Justin might be kicking back in. Justin sighed. He imagined Brian lying somewhere drunk and hurting, maybe with a trick. Sex had always been a huge part of Brian's pain obliteration. If he could feel the pleasure of having his dick sucked, it blotted out the hurt for that small period of time. If he got his dick sucked often enough, he might be able to forget what had driven him to this in the first place.

Justin frowned not liking the idea or the unwanted image of Brian with someone else, fucking someone else, sucking them, kissing them. He shook his head trying to force that picture out of his brain. He understood on an intellectual basis why that would be what Brian would resort to, but he had hoped since Brian had become mayor and seemingly embraced their relationship, as strange and fucked up and dysfunctional as it might be, that Brian would come to him when something bad happened. He was probably being a naïf little twat to think that, but he had hoped.

He wished Chuck would call. He wished they would find Brian in one piece, not too wasted, and then he would… Justin couldn't complete that statement because he wasn't sure what he could do. He could go to the man, tell him he loved him, make love to him. But would that be enough? He had no idea. This was something big and unknown. They had never really dealt with anything like this, except maybe when he had been bashed, and Brian had had to fend for himself, all alone. He had only an inkling of what Brian must have gone through. Nobody would really talk about it, including Brian.

The phone rang. Chuck reported that he and Phydeau had checked all the usual haunts and found nothing. It was almost dawn and they needed some sleep unless Justin had any other suggestions about where they might look for the mayor.

Justin thought for a moment and then it hit him. "Have you checked the hotels?" he asked.

"You think he checked into a hotel?"

"It's a possibility. He could be holed up in one licking his wounds." Justin knew it would be more than licking his wounds but that seemed as good a way to present the idea to Chuck as any.

"I'll start checking."

"Thanks, Chuck. If you find him call me immediately. Don't confront him. Let me talk to him."

"Sure."

Now all he could do once more was wait. If Brian wasn't in any of the hotels he might have actually left the city. That thought really bothered Justin. He could be anywhere. He might never find him, especially if Brian didn't want to be found.

Waiting was always the hardest thing to deal with. There was nothing to do except speculate about all the possible outcomes and none of them presented a very appetizing picture.

Justin had refrained from calling the usual sources - Michael, Lindsay, even Debbie. He knew that if Brian was in the shape that he suspected, he would want to be alone or with strangers, or tricks. He would not want to deal with friends who would ask him to explain his actions or try to help or offer advice or pity him. All of those things would drive Brian wild.

-----

Justin must have dozed off for awhile because he awoke to bright sunshine streaming through the drapes of the loft. He glanced at the clock on the desk and noted that it was almost nine o'clock. He should be at school. Brian should be at work. The world should be continuing as it always had and it probably was. Only there would be no school for him today. There would be no work for Brian. There would be nothing except worry until he knew where Brian was and could bring him home.

Suddenly the silence of the loft was shattered by the phone. He raced to the desk and picked it up praying that it was Brian or at least Chuck saying he had found Brian.

"Hello," he said hopefully.

"Justin, I didn't expect to get anyone. I was going to leave a message for Brian," Lindsay said in her soft lovely voice, just like everything was right with the world. And it probably was in her world.

"I'm home today," Justin said abruptly. "Do you want me to give Brian a message?"

"Sure, honey. Would you ask him if he'd like to have Gus for the weekend? Mel and I have a chance to go to a little bed and breakfast for the weekend and we could use some time alone."

Justin felt the tears well up. He wished he could promise that he and Brian would take Gus for the weekend, if only he knew where Brian was. He cleared his throat and blinked back the tears. "I'll ask him," he managed to get out.

"Justin, is something wrong?"

Shit! He had alerted her. "No…no, Lindsay, I'm just kind of busy right now. I'll give Brian the message."

He hung up before she could ask any more questions. He knew she would still be wondering what was going on, but he didn't think she'd call back to find out more information.

"Come on, Brian. Please, please, please, call. Please be all right," he whispered hoping that saying the words out loud might actually make them come true.

Moments later the phone rang again. He prayed it wasn't Lindsay calling back. His heart leaped as soon as he heard Chuck's voice.

"Have you found him?" Justin asked hoping against hope.

"He's at the Biltmore. Room 618."

"Thank God," Justin breathed out.

"I spoke to the desk clerk who recognized the description. He was about to go off duty. It was lucky I caught him."

"Did he say if Brian was all right?"

"He hasn't seen anything of him since he checked in. He used John Smith as his name."

Justin chuckled in spite of himself. "And nobody recognized him?"

"Apparently not."

"I'll get down there as soon as I can. Chuck, can you stay and make sure he doesn't leave the hotel before I get there?"

"Sure."

"I'll be there as soon as I can."

Justin grabbed his jacket and ran down the stairs. He raced through the streets of Pittsburgh dodging the remnants of the morning rush hour traffic. Luckily he found a spot to park the Corvette not too far from the Biltmore. He ran the remaining distance to the hotel.

As he entered the lobby, his eyes searched for Chuck. He saw him seated in a chair in the lobby and made his way over to him.

"Thanks for everything, Chuck," he said. "He's still in his room?"

"As far as anybody knows."

"You should go home and get some sleep."

"You look like you could use some too."

"When I get him safely home that will be one of the first things I do." Chuck nodded and started to turn away. "Chuck, I really appreciate everything you've done."

"I know. I hope you can deal with him. I could wait if you want?"

"That isn't a bad idea. I might have to shanghai him to get him home."

"I hope not."

"Me too. You go on home and I'll deal with him."

"Good luck," Chuck said and made his way across the lobby.

Justin took a deep breath. He had no idea what he was going to say to Brian once he confronted him. He walked over to the elevator. He had the time it took to ride up six floors to come up with a plan.

The elevator stopped and Justin got out on the sixth floor. He noted the arrows pointing the direction of the rooms. He followed the one that promised to take him to Room 618. As he approached the door his heart started to pound in his chest. He wondered what he would find when Brian opened the door.

Justin stood in front of the door to Room 618. He raised his hand to knock and dropped it again. He knew he was in for a battle. Brian would be pissed that he had found him. He would probably be drunk or drugged. Worse still there might be a trick in there with him. Justin made a face wondering if he had the courage to face what waited behind that door.

He knocked not too loud, but loud enough to be heard. There was no answer. He knocked harder. Still there was no reply. Justin pounded on the door and then waited. There was no response. He pounded again and shouted, "Brian! Brian! Open up."

He stopped and listened. He thought he could hear some movement behind the door. Suddenly it ceased and he heard nothing more.

He pounded again and yelled, "Brian! It's Justin. I'm not leaving until you open this door and talk to me."

No response came. Justin could hear nothing more.

He yelled again, "I know you're in there, Brian. You might as well open the door because I'm staying here and I'll keep pounding until you do."

Justin heard definite movement behind the door and he held his breath. He heard the lock click as the doorknob was turned. The door opened and Brian stood before him.

"You look like shit," Justin said noting the stubble of beard, the bleary eyes and the slight wavering as Brian held on to the door.

"Did you come all the way down here to tell me that?" Brian asked sarcastically.

"What the fuck are you doing?" Justin demanded stepping forward to get into the room.

Brian's hand came up and pressed against Justin's chest effectively stopping his forward motion.

"What?" Justin asked.

"Go away," Brian said and pushed enough to make Justin take a couple of steps backwards.

"Brian?" Justin asked. "We need to talk."

"No, we don't."

"Yes, we do. I'm coming in."

Brian gave Justin a further shove propelling him back into the hall. "Go home," he ordered.

"Brian, you can't do this. Talk to me. Come home with me. We can work this out."

"Fuck off, Justin!" Brian spat out. He slammed the door and Justin heard the safety lock slide across.

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