Pressure  

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Shattering, sparkling, splintering, stinging.  Brian looked at the broken glass in his hand, and the little rivulets of red that had begun to seep out around the crystal shards.  It hurt a little, but not as much as the pain in his chest where his heart should be.  He stared at his hand in fascination.  A moment ago it had held a glass of Jim Beam, but now it was this broken, oozing mess, just like his life.  How quickly everything could change!

 

He was drunk, but not nearly drunk enough.  The pain was still there.  He wanted numbness, nothingness, oblivion.

 

He didn’t actually remember crushing the glass.  He wasn’t sure how he had done it.  It was just there, a broken mass of glass, blood and flesh.  He thought he should probably do something about it, but it seemed like way too much effort.  He sighed and leaned back against the arm of the couch, his injured hand hanging down near the carpet.  He closed his eyes.

 

Images of the last few days started flickering across his mind.  Justin crying.  Justin packing his belongings.  Justin yelling at him.  Justin walking out the door.  The sound of silence and emptiness was deafening in the loft.

 

What had happened?  He didn’t want to remember it, but his mind had other plans.

 

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Four days ago Justin had come home from the IFA very late, 11 pm.  Brian had been busy with work since the Noel fiasco.  They hadn’t had a lot of time to spend together.  Brian was still working on the deal with the Denver ski company, and everything was just about finalized.  Justin was quiet as he entered, not his usual bouncy self.  Brian was polishing up the final version of the sales campaign he had initiated.

 

“Hey,” Brian said, looking up from the computer.

 

“Hey,” Justin replied and headed for the bathroom.

 

Brian heard the shower go on.  A little alarm bell went off in his head.  Where had he seen this scenario before?  He shook his head.  Couldn’t be!  He and Justin were fine.  They had survived Noel, and come out the other side, stronger and better.  At least he thought so.

 

He went back to work.  He was nearly finished.  He’d talk to Justin when he came out of the shower.  A few minutes later he heard the shower go off.  He quickly saved his work and shut down the computer.  He headed into the bedroom, and met Justin as he stepped out of the bathroom.  Justin jumped back in surprise.

 

“You’re edgy tonight,” Brian observed, as he put an arm around Justin and pulled off his towel.  Justin tried to grab it back, but Brian held it tantalizingly out of reach.

 

“Come on, Brian,” Justin griped.  “Give me the towel.”

 

Brian threw the towel into the bathroom.  “You don’t need it,” he said, running his hands up and down Justin’s arms.

 

“Fuck, Brian,” Justin said.  “I’m tired.”

 

Brian stopped rubbing and grabbed Justin’s shoulders, forcing him to look into Brian’s eyes.  “What’s wrong?” he demanded.

 

“I told you.  I’m tired.  I want to go to bed,” Justin said, looking at the floor.

 

“Justin, we said we’d be honest.  I can tell something’s wrong.  Talk to me.”

 

“Not now.  I’m going to bed.”

 

Justin tried to turn away.  Brian held him in place, looking at him intently.  Justin could not meet his gaze.

 

“Brian, let me go,” he asked, looking miserable.

 

“Talk to me.  What’s wrong?”

 

Justin shook his head.  Brian pulled him close, holding him in a tight embrace.  Justin resisted at first, but gradually relaxed into Brian’s arms.  Brian felt more than heard the sobs.

 

“What’s wrong?” Brian asked again.

 

“Make love to me,” Justin asked.

 

“Of course, but tell me what’s going on,” Brian countered.

 

“I can’t, not right now.  Fuck me, please!” Justin almost begged.

 

Brian kissed him deeply, not knowing what else to do.  Maybe sex would make them both feel better.  He pulled Justin over to the bed and gently pushed him down.  He laid Justin on his back, kissing him all the while.  Justin had surrendered to his ministrations, emitting little gasps and moans as Brian’s kisses became deeper and more demanding.  Brian looked at Justin’s face.  His eyes were closed and Brian couldn’t read his thoughts.  He knew something was wrong, but Justin wouldn’t talk about it, so this would be the next best thing.

 

He licked along Justin’s chin and down his neck.  His hands squeezed the boy’s breasts and tweaked the nipples.  Justin gasped and Brian sucked on each tit.  He continued downward, dipping into Justin’s navel.  He licked down to the pubes and all around his hardening cock, but not touching the shaft itself.  He pulled Justin’s knees up and apart and slid down between them.  His tongue caressed the inside of each thigh.  He blew softly over Justin’s penis and heard the boy groan.  He buried his face between Justin’s legs, licking over his pucker and up to his scrotum.  He took Justin’s balls in his mouth, sucking and rolling them around.  He loved the taste of Justin.  If he could swallow him whole, he would.  He felt Justin writhing beneath him and knew by the dripping cock that he was close to coming.  He hadn’t even touched Justin’s dick yet.

 

“Tell me what you want, Justin.  This is for you.  Do you want me to blow you or fuck you or bring you off without even touching your dick?”

 

“Fuck me, please.  I want you in me.”

 

Brian rolled on a condom and buried his face against Justin’s hole.  He used his tongue to open Justin’s pucker.  Justin gasped and pressed against Brian’s face, trying to make the tongue go deeper.  Brian grabbed the lube, coated his penis and used his greased fingers to press into Justin.  He flipped Justin’s legs over his shoulders and rammed his penis fully into the boy.  Brian heard the sharp intake of breath.  Justin opened his eyes to look at Brian for the first time since this had begun.

 

“I thought I needed to get your attention,” Brian said by way of explanation.

 

“What?” Justin gasped.

 

“Never mind,” Brian said, and began pounding against him.  Justin didn’t back off.  He met each thrust with a counterthrust, and they both groaned in satisfaction.  The ride was exhilarating, but all too brief.  Finally they both reached orgasm, climaxing and lying spent together.

 

When Brian regained his breath, he rolled off Justin and looked at the boy.  Justin turned away, and rolled onto his side, his back to Brian.

 

“Justin,” Brian said, worried.

 

“Maybe tomorrow, Brian.  Not now.”

 

Brian reached over and touched Justin’s shoulder.  He felt the shoulder shift away from his touch, and he knew something was really wrong.

 

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That was how it had started.  Brian knew something was going on and Justin wouldn’t talk about it.  When Justin refused to talk, it was usually something big.

 

Neither of them slept much that night.  Each tossed and turned, somewhat studiously avoiding touching the other in their thrashing about.  Around 5 am Brian felt Justin sit up and flip back the duvet.  He knew instinctively that Justin was going to leave without talking to him.

 

“Don’t,” he said without looking at the boy.

 

“Don’t what?” Justin asked.  “I was just going to pee.”  He kept his back to Brian.

 

“Don’t go.  Don’t leave without talking to me.  Don’t lie.  Take your pick.”  Brian gave him a list to choose from.

 

“Brian...I...” Justin didn’t know how to continue.  How could he explain to Brian when he didn’t understand it himself?

 

“What?” Brian asked.

 

“I’m going to go to school.  I have to think and sort some things out.  I promise I’ll talk to you about this tonight.  Okay?”

“What is it?  Maybe I can help,” Brian offered.

 

Justin shook his head.  “Tonight, I promise.”

 

“Okay, but tonight for sure,” Brian gave in.  He was worried.  This must be something big and very bad.

 

ssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssss

 

Brian looked at his injured hand.  It throbbed a little and he could see a couple of pieces of glass still imbedded.  He carefully pulled them out and blood began to flow again.  He glanced down and saw a little pool of drying blood on the white carpet, where his hand had been hanging down.

 

“Another thing ruined,” he said philosophically.

 

He picked up the Jim Beam bottle and downed a swig, then another and another.

 

“Who needs a glass?”  He laughed humorlessly.

 

He opened his hand and looked at the slits that had held the imbedded pieces of glass.  He held his hand over the area of dried blood on the carpet and poured some Beam over it.

 

“Ouch!  Fuck!!”  He didn’t think it would sting like that.

 

“Good antiseptic!” he said to the loft.  “Let’s cleanse the inside too,” and he took several more swigs of the liquor.

 

His head lolled back against the arm again and his thoughts began to wander back to his discussion with Justin.

 

“Discussion!” he snorted.  “Debate, dilemma, disgust, disintegration!  Piece of shit!”  He grimaced as his wounded hand had involuntarily made a fist.

 

ssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssss

 

Justin had arrived at the loft before Brian got home from work.  He had made them steak and salad.  They ate in silence for a while.  Finally Brian decided he wanted some answers.

 

“Are you going to tell me what’s going on?” he asked.

 

“I’ve been trying all day to figure out what to say,” Justin confessed.

 

“This sounds bad.”

 

“I guess it is.”

 

“So just tell me,” Brian ordered, his heart beating faster.

 

“I met a guy a few days ago.”

 

“A guy?  Don’t you meet a lot of guys every day?” Brian asked, trying to slough off the jab of fear he felt.

 

“Not like Derek.”

 

“Derek?”

 

“Derek Jacobs.  He’s in the dance program at the Institute.”

 

“A dancer?  Should I be jealous?”

 

Justin grimaced.  “Not the reaction I wanted,” Brian thought.

 

“We met at lunch one day and got talking.  There was an immediate attraction.  I tried to ignore it, but I really liked him, and I wanted to be friends.”

 

Justin paused and Brian blinked.  He knew what was coming, but he didn’t want to hear it.

 

“We had lunch together everyday for a few days.  One day he came back to my cubicle to see my work.  As we were looking at my paintings, our hands reached for one at the same time, and I felt this little jolt of electricity pass between us.”

 

“Shit,” Brian thought, “just like Noel.”  His stomach twisted and he thought his dinner might come up.  He downed the rest of his wine to force it back.  He poured himself another glass, leaned back and in his best Brian Kinney ‘don’t give a fuck’ voice, he said, “Continue.”

 

Justin looked at him, unsure what to say next.  “I...we... Before I knew it, we were on the floor, kissing ... and fucking.”

 

“Swept away by passion?” Brian sneered.  “Was he good?”

 

“Brian, don’t...”

 

“Don’t!  I think it’s you that needed to heed that word.”

 

“I...I’m sorry, but I wanted him and he wanted me.”

 

“Just like Noel and me?  Is this some kind of sick payback, Justin?”  Brian was angry.

 

“Of course not!  How could you think that?  It just happened.  We wanted each other.  It has nothing to do with Noel.”

 

“Interesting timing though, don’t you think?”

 

“No, I don’t think!  One has nothing to do with the other.”

 

Brian looked intently at Justin.  He didn’t know if he believed him or not.  “So was he good?  As good as me?  Better?”

 

“Different!” was Justin’s somewhat defiant answer.

 

“I guess you enjoyed it?” Brian asked, hoping against hope that the answer would be no.

 

“Yes, I did.”

 

“Was that the only time?”

 

Justin blinked, and Brian knew it wasn’t.  “No,” he said.  “I went to his dorm last night to talk to him.”

 

“And you fucked again!”

 

“Yes.”

 

“Several times?”

 

“Yes.”

 

“So that’s why you needed the shower when you finally came home?”

 

“I guess.”

 

“And then you asked me to fuck you too.  Making comparisons?”

 

“Don’t be cruel, Brian.”

 

“Oh, I haven’t even started!”

 

“I don’t want to fight.”

 

“I think I do.  Otherwise, I might kill you, or myself!” Brian spat out between clenched teeth.

 

“Don’t say things like that!”

 

“Why not?  Does it scare you, because you scare me?”

 

“Scare you?  Why?” Justin asked, bewildered.

 

“After all we’ve been through, after Noel and what he did to us, you’re ready to toss it all away for Derek!  That’s pretty fucking scary, Justin.  I thought we meant more than that!”

 

“We do, Brian.  I didn’t say we were through.  I just have to figure out what to do about Derek.  I’m confused.”

 

“What to do about Derek?  Tell him to fuck off!  Tell him you’re in a relationship.  Tell him you love me!”

 

“I already have ... and it didn’t help.”

 

“What do you mean?”

 

“I still want him,” Justin said, looking sad.

 

“What about me?”  Brian never thought he would hear himself ask that question, but there it was.

 

“I want you too.”

 

“Well. I don’t think it works that way.  I’m not into sharing!  Maybe Gus is, but I don’t share my toys.”

 

“So now I’m a toy?”

 

“I didn’t mean it that way.”

 

“Brian, if you’ll listen for a minute?”  Justin waited, and when Brian neither moved nor said anything, he continued.  “I understand now your attraction to Noel.”

 

Brian shook his head.  “That’s what’s at the root of this, isn’t it?” he asked.

 

“No, Brian,” Justin said again.  “It’s not.  The attraction I feel for Derek is more.  You didn’t want Noel once you’d had him.”

 

“That makes me sound like a selfish asshole.  There was a lot more to it.  You know why I didn’t want Noel.”

 

“I know, but Derek isn’t like Noel.  He’s kind and funny and interesting, and I like him, as well as being attracted to him.”

 

“So, he’s perfect?” Brian asked.

 

“Kinda.”

 

“I don’t think perfect can be qualified,” Brian sneered.

 

“Well, pardon me!”  Justin took offense to Brian’s tone.  He wasn’t going to be treated like a little kid who needed to be taught what his words meant.

 

“What are you and Mr. Perfect planning to do?” Brian asked.

 

“To do?”

 

“Are you moving out?  In with him?  Away from me?”

 

“I don’t want to leave you,” Justin said, looking uncertain.

 

“But you want to keep fucking him?”

 

“I...yes,” Justin conceded.

 

“Well, that makes him more than a trick then, doesn’t it?  I guess we wouldn’t be having this conversation if he was just a trick.  Let’s see.  Someone once told me, and I quote, ‘Tricks don’t matter’, but this is something way beyond that.”

 

“Brian, I needed to be honest with you.  I have to figure this out for myself.”

 

“You’re right about that.  And while you’re figuring it out, I think you need to stop fucking both of us.”

 

“What do you mean?”

 

“Just what I said.  Until you choose, you don’t fuck either of us.”

 

“Brian...”

 

“I told you.  I don’t share and I won’t be anybody’s bit on the side.”

 

Justin’s anger flared at that.  “What are you talking about?  I’ve never treated you that way.  You know I love you.”

 

“Do I?  Does the name Ethan Gold ring any bells?  We’ve been down this road before, and I thought we had gotten beyond this.”

 

“We have, but things happen in relationships.”

 

“Yeah,” said Brian.  “Things.”

 

“Do you want me to leave?” Justin asked.

 

“No...Yes...I don’t know,” Brian said, disappointed that Justin seemed no longer willing to fight for their relationship.

 

“Maybe it’s best if I do,” Justin stated, wanting Brian to tell him to stay.

 

Brian shrugged.

 

“I’ll go to Debbie’s for tonight, if that’s what you want?”

 

“Call her!” Brian ordered, willing this to be over.

 

“All right!” Justin shot back, and walked over to the phone.

 

Brian retreated to the bathroom and closed the door.  He threw some water on his face, and leaned on the counter.  His head pounded and he felt like someone had kicked him in the gut.  He didn’t know how long he stood there, when he heard a tap on the door.

 

“What?” he snarled.

 

“Debbie says I can come over.  I’m taking a few things, just for tonight,” Justin said tentatively.

 

“Whatever,” Brian replied, standing up.  “I’m going out anyway.  Don’t be here when I get back!”

 

Justin looked like someone had slapped him, and that’s what Brian’s words felt like, a slap in the face.  He knew Brian would find a trick to fill his bed tonight once he was gone.

 

Brian brushed past him, grabbed his leather jacket from the closet and was gone before Justin could say or do anything.

 

Justin sank down onto the bed and put his head in his hands.  He wanted to cry, but even tears had abandoned him.  He grabbed some clothes for the next day, his books, his knapsack and his jacket.  He carefully set the alarm as he left.

 

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Brian took another drink from the bottle of Beam.  That emptied it.  He wanted more, but he wasn’t sure he could get over to the kitchen to get it.  He started to push himself up from the couch, but he winced in pain as he put pressure on his injured hand.  He looked at it and saw a bit of blood begin again.  He had reopened a couple of the cuts.

 

“Fuck!” he said aloud.

 

He used his good hand to help him stand up, swaying a bit.  He took a step and staggered back against the couch.  He put a hand down to save himself and yelped in pain.  He had used his injured hand.

 

“Fucking stupid!” he cursed.

 

He righted himself and looked at his hand.  It really was a mess.  He stood straight as he could and headed himself in the direction of the kitchen.  He grabbed the counter for support, this time using his right hand, his good one.  Keeping contact with the counter he went round to the cupboard where he stored the liquor.

 

“Ah,” he said, pulling out a new bottle of Beam.  He put the bottle in his left elbow and holding it against his body, he used his right hand to twist open the lid.  He only spilled a little.  He took a good slug from the bottle.  His left hand throbbed.  He leaned against the sink and ran some water over the wounds.  Then he poured some Beam over his hand, and grunted in protest to the stabbing pain.  He knew he’d never make it to the bathroom, so he opened the door beneath the sink and pissed in the garbage can.  That felt better.  He grabbed a towel from a drawer and wrapped it around his hand, tucking in the end.

 

“I should have been a doctor,” he said, pleased with himself.  “I could have taken out my heart a long time ago, and avoided all this shit.”

 

He grabbed the new bottle of Beam and staggered back to the couch.  Was it Saturday or Sunday?  He wasn’t sure.  It was dark out.  “Probably Saturday night,” he thought.  “If it’s Sunday, I’ll never make it to work tomorrow.”  He chuckled insanely.  “Vance’ll have to do his own shit.  No Brian Kinney to save the day this time,” he said to the loft.

 

If it was still Saturday, then Justin had left two days ago.  What difference did it make how long he had been gone?  It just mattered that he was gone, for good!

 

That required another drink or two.  He slumped on the couch and downed a few more mouthfuls of Beam.  His head lolled back, as he cradled the bottle between his thighs.

 

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After Justin’s revelation, Brian was hurt and angry and disillusioned.  The idea of disillusionment in the same context as him gave Brian pause.

 

“I’m the ultimate realist,” he told himself.  “At least I used to be.”

 

He headed for Babylon and the back room.  If Justin was fucking around, then he would too.  Within minutes of arriving, he was getting his dick sucked.  He hadn’t done this for months, since he and Justin had gotten back together.

 

“Just like riding a bike,” he thought as he came.  He immediately shoved the man away and zipped up.  He didn’t even have a feeling of release, let alone of satisfaction.

 

He went out to the dance floor, looking for someone more appetizing.  He saw a couple of likely prospects dancing together and worked his way over to them.  He used his patented come-on line, and they agreed to go back to the loft.  He gave them the address and went to find a drug connection.  He could use a few good hits of something to make this more palatable.

 

“Christ!  When did sex have to be palatable?” he thought.  “I am so screwed.”

 

He got some E and headed for the loft.  The two tricks were waiting at the front door.  “Justin better be gone!” he vowed to himself. “Otherwise, I’m going to give him quite a show!”

 

“Come in, guys,” he said, ushering them up to the loft.  He looked around as he opened the door, noting that Justin was not there.  He wasn’t sure if he was happy or sad or disappointed that he was no longer there.

 

“Nice place,” one of the tricks observed.

 

“Yeah,” Brian replied.  “The bedroom’s up there.  Go ahead.”

 

The two men went up the steps already removing their clothes.  Brian poured himself a glass of Beam.  He had taken a couple of hits of the E and his dick was responding.  He dropped his jacket and swallowed the Beam.  He pulled off his shirt and headed for the bedroom.  The two men were naked on the bed, blowing each other.

 

“Hey, wait for me!” he said, getting rid of his pants.

 

They welcomed him onto the bed, one capturing his mouth and the other his cock.  They kissed and sucked for awhile.  Brian wanted to fuck.  One trick lay on his back and the other started fucking him.  Brian lined up behind this man and drove his penis in.  He liked driving the train, as he called it.  When they all finally came, they collapsed in a heap on the bed.

 

“That was better,” he thought.

 

One of the tricks said, “That was fucking fantastic!”

 

Brian snorted, “So I haven’t lost my touch.”

 

“Let’s go again,” the other trick said.

 

“Sure,” said Brian, as one attacked his cock and the other sucked on his tits.  He was ready, if only he didn’t see Justin’s face when he closed his eyes.

 

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His eyes sprang open.  He thought Justin might be standing there in front of him.  The image had been so vivid.  He looked around, but he was definitely alone.  He must have dozed off or passed out.  He wasn’t sure.  He felt something between his legs, and it wasn’t a dick, his or anyone else’s.  He looked down and saw the Jim Beam bottle.  He laughed.  “My old friend,” he said, lifting it up, and holding it against his chest.  Then he took a long drink.

 

Where was the nothingness that he longed for?  He remembered thinking about the tricks he’d brought home when Justin had gone to Debbie’s.  They had distracted him for a few hours, but eventually he told them to get out, and resorted to liquor and drugs.  It seemed to be getting harder and harder to dull the pain and blot out the unwanted thoughts.

 

Pain.  He looked at his left hand.  It was all wrapped up.  When had he done that?  Time seemed to have no meaning.  He wasn’t sure anymore when events had happened, in what order, what was real and what he was imagining.

 

He took another long drag of the Beam and set the bottle on the floor.  He draped his legs over the arm of the couch and laid back.  Maybe he could sleep.

 

ssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssss

 

Brian had managed to set the alarm after he kicked out the trick twins.  When it woke him, he debated skipping work, but decided against it.  Work would take his mind off Justin, and help him to get through the day.

 

About 3 pm, after a rather uninspiring day, Cynthia buzzed him to say that Justin was on line one.  He debated not taking it, but decided he needed to deal with this head on.

 

“Justin?” he said into the phone.

 

“Brian, I’d like to come to the loft tonight after dinner.  I’ve made some decisions, and I need to talk to you.”

 

“Okay,” said Brian.  “See you about eight?”

 

“Sure,” Justin replied and hung up.

 

“Shit!  That was fucking abrupt!  I wonder what that means?” Brian muttered to himself.  He’d find out tonight.  He had already decided that he wasn’t going to share Justin with the dancer.  He’d go it alone if he had to.

 

Brian picked at his takeout.  He wasn’t hungry, but he had to do something while he waited for Justin.  He was dreading what he thought Justin was going to tell him.

 

Promptly at eight the buzzer sounded.  “Shit!” Brian said.  “He won’t even use his key.”  He buzzed him up.

 

Brian opened the loft door, and leaned against the frame, as he waited for the elevator to arrive.  Justin pushed up the gate and stepped out.  Brian’s cock stirred.  The boy looked good.

 

“Hey,” Justin said.

 

“Hey,” Brian replied and stepped back to let Justin enter.  He closed the door.  “Want a beer?” he asked.

 

“Sure,” said Justin, hoping that might ease the tension.

 

Brian opened two beers and handed one to Justin.  He went over to the couch and sat down.  Justin sat in the chair opposite.

 

“So,” Brian said, “what big decision have you made?”

 

“I want you.  I love you and I always will.”

 

Brian’s heart thumped in relief.  He had expected the worst.  “That’s good,” he said.  “I feel the same way.”

 

Justin gave a small smile in recognition of Brian’s statement.

 

“That wasn’t much of a response,” Brian thought.  “So what does that mean about where we are?” he asked aloud.

 

“It means I want to stay here with you.”

 

“Really?  That’s good.”  Brian was pleased.

 

Justin smiled a little more.

 

“What about Derek?” Brian had to ask.

 

“I want to be friends with him,” Justin stated.

 

“Just friends?”

 

“I think so.”

 

“You think so?  That doesn’t sound very definite.  What does Derek say about it?” Brian asked.

 

“Derek isn’t happy.  He wants to keep things as they were or maybe take them farther.”

 

“So, if he pressures you to fuck, what will happen?”

 

“Nothing.”

 

“Are you sure?”

 

“I can’t say a hundred percent,” Justin admitted.

 

“Why don’t you cut him loose?”

 

“I...I can’t,” Justin said.

 

“You can’t?  Don’t you mean you won’t?”

 

“No...I...”

 

“What the fuck is this all about?  I thought you made a decision.  This sounds like you’re going to keep seeing him, and in all likelihood fucking him.  Am I right?”

 

“No, I don’t think so.  I’m going to try to prevent that.”

 

“This is fucking ridiculous!”

 

“Brian, I don’t know what else to do,” Justin’s voice quavered.

 

“Well I do!  Tell him to get lost or tell me to get lost,” Brian demanded.

 

“I can’t do that.”

 

“Yes you can!”

 

Justin shook his head.

 

“Maybe we should talk to Frank about this,” Brian said hopefully.

 

“No,” Justin cut him off.  “I don’t want him telling me what to do.  I have to work this out myself.”

 

“Frank wouldn’t tell you what to do.  You know that.  But he might give you a new perspective on things.”

 

Justin shook his head again.

 

“I think you’d rather have the problem than the solution.  In fact I’m beginning to wonder if you actually like the problem,” Brian stated.

 

“What?”  Justin looked hurt.

 

“You heard me.  You really want to have your cake and eat it too.  You haven’t decided anything, except that you’re going to continue being selfish.”

 

“Me?  Selfish?  Look who’s talking!”

 

Brian was taken aback.  He knew many people considered him selfish and he did little to change their opinions,