Conspiracy

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Justin missed Brian the minute the cab pulled away.  He stood on the sidewalk watching it grow smaller as it headed down the street away from the university, away from him.  When it disappeared around the corner, he sighed and turned to walk back to his dorm.

 

"Hey, Taylor!" a voice called.

 

He looked up to see Zach Sherwood who fell in step with him.

 

"Hi," Justin said.  Zach was one of the students on this special course.  He was on another floor and hadn't had much to say to Justin up to now.  Justin was surprised at this overture on his part.

 

"Was that your boyfriend leaving?" Zach asked.  "The one I saw you with at Whiplash last night?"

 

"Yeah.  Brian has to go back to Pittsburgh."

"He's hot!" Zach observed.

 

"A lot of people seem to think so," Justin replied.  He had thought Zach was gay and hadn't been surprised to see him at Whiplash.

 

"Have a hot weekend?" Zach asked suggestively.

 

Justin didn't like that question very much.  "We … um … had a nice time," he said cautiously.

 

"Just nice?"  Zach grinned at him.

 

"Great, actually," Justin admitted.  He wasn't sure he wanted to continue this conversation.

 

"He looks like a great fuck.  I would have liked to dance with him, but you guys took off too quick."

 

"We had other things to do," Justin said, beginning to walk faster.  He wanted to get away from Zach.

 

"I can only imagine," Zach stated, keeping up.

 

They had reached the entrance to the dorm.  Justin quickly went inside and ran up the stairs to his hall.  Zach didn't follow and Justin was relieved.  He couldn't figure out Zach's sudden interest.  They were hardly friends.  In fact Justin didn't like him very much.  He always had a smart remark or innuendo, even to the professors.  He often disrupted what the prof was saying, but he was very talented.  Justin had seen some of his work, dark and disturbing, but brilliant.

 

Justin went into his room and locked the door behind him.  He wondered if Zach was interested in Brian.  He didn't think Zach was interested in him.  He took off his coat.  It was only seven-thirty.  He should go get some dinner, but he didn't want to run into Zach again.  He also felt very little like eating, especially without Brian.

 

He kicked off his shoes and dropped down on the bed.  The room seemed so empty.  He leaned against the headboard, thinking about Brian and what a terrific time they had had.  When they spent time talking and eating together, as well as fucking, Justin always felt they had made progress.  He smiled, thinking about Brian's fan club and how great he had been with Dale and Joanne.  Abruptly a tear rolled down his cheek, as he envisioned the cab turning the corner.

 

"God, it's hard to let him go," he whispered aloud.

 

He reached for his sketchbook and flipped it open.  He grabbed a pencil and started drawing.  An hour later he had a wonderful sketch of Brian in his leather pants, sauntering down the hall.  He sighed as he put the finishing touches on the sketch.  He leaned back, looking critically at his work.  Brian was so beautiful it was hard to be objective, but he liked what he had done.  He hugged the sketchbook to his chest, Brian's likeness pressed against his heart.  He rested his chin on the top of the sketchbook and closed his eyes.

 

He could see Brian lying naked in this bed.  He could feel how Brian held him against his body after they had fucked.  He could smell Brian on the sheets.  He could hear Brian saying he loved him, and he could taste him as he ran his tongue over his lips.

 

He had been so happy to have Brian there, but now it was almost worse.  To have him go away again was harder than not having seen him for two weeks.  How were they ever going to do this for four and a half more months?  More tears slid down his cheeks.  He looked sown at his sketch once more, then closed the book and set it aside.  He curled up in a ball on the bed, feeling more miserable than he could bear.  

 

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Brian arrived at the loft a little after eleven.  He unpacked quickly.  As he pulled out his leather pants, he thought about the show he had put on for his fan club.

 

"I'm nuts," he said aloud.  He couldn't believe he had done that.  "Caught up in the moment," he thought.  He had really liked Justin's friends.  They had egged him on, but he had enjoyed the accolades of all those young men and women.

 

He was glad Justin had Dale and Joanne as his close friends.  They were good kids.  Brian could tell.  He fully intended to get Joanne an internship at Vangard, if she wanted one.  He hoped he could do something for Dale too.  He knew they would keep an eye on Justin for him, and let him know if anything happened.

 

He put his bag in the closet and went to take a shower.  "Those fucking communal showers," he mumbled, as he stepped into his own spacious one.  "I wish Justin was here though," he thought.  His mind called up images of times they had fucked in this shower.  Justin pressed against the glass, Justin on his knees sucking him off, Justin gasping and clinging to him under the warm spray, when they were done.

 

He groaned.  He missed that kid so much.  They had had such a fabulous time together.  Shitty showers, narrow beds and too many prying eyes were all bearable, as long as he could be with Justin.  He thought about the Indian dinner, Whiplash and their hours in bed.  His dick should be sore, but it merely wanted more.

 

He turned off the shower.  He would call Justin at midnight.  He needed to hear his voice.  They could relive the weekend over the phone.

 

He toweled off and wrapped the towel around his hips.  He went to the kitchen to get a shot of Beam.  He had drunk almost nothing all weekend and hadn't missed it a bit.  Justin quenched his thirst and filled his senses.  This was a poor substitute.

 

He went over to his desk to check his messages.  There was one from Michael saying to call him and tell him about his weekend.  He'd do that tomorrow.  The second message was from Lindsay, hoping he enjoyed his time with Justin.  Then he heard Gus' voice say, "Hi, Dada, I miss you."  He smiled.  His son was now using complete sentences.  He knew Gus was also missing Justin.  Next time he went to New York he should take his camera and bring back pictures of Justin so that Gus could see his favourite playmate.

 

It was almost midnight.  He grabbed another shot of Beam and got into bed with it.  He took a sip and hit Justin's number.  It rang and rang with no answer.  Brian was beginning to wonder where Justin could be, when a sleepy voice said, "Hello?"

 

"Hey, did I wake you?" Brian asked.

 

"Yeah, I just laid down for a minute or two and I guess I fell asleep," Justin said.  "I miss you."

 

"Me too.  What have you been doing since I left?"

 

"Nothing much.  You remember Zach Sherwood.  We met him at Whiplash.  He met me outside as your cab drove off.  He was very friendly, never done that before.  He thinks you're hot."

 

Brian snorted.  "Well, he's all right, but I have what I want."

 

"And what would that be?" Justin teased.

 

"I'm talking to him."

 

Justin smiled.  "I also drew a sketch of you in your leather pants."

 

"And how do I look?"

 

"Scorching!"

 

Brian laughed.  "I miss my fan club.  It's not every day I get such unbridled adoration."

 

"A little full of yourself?"

 

"Me?"

 

Justin chuckled.  "Are you all settled back in?"

 

"Yeah.  It's almost like it never happened."

 

"I know.  This bed seems so empty."

 

"It is, although now you'll be able to sleep without me on top of you."

 

"I like you on top of me."

"Mmm," Brian groaned.  "You do need some sleep though."

 

"You're right.  You gave me quite a workout."

 

"I had a great time with you and your friends," Brian said truthfully.

 

"You were great too."

 

"They're nice kids.  You're lucky, especially to have Dale and Joanne."

 

"I know.  I guess I better let you go.  I really should get some rest for tomorrow."

 

"Okay.  I miss you already."

 

"Me too."  Justin broke the connection.

 

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Brian went to work on Monday in a new frame of mind.  Cynthia could hardly believe the difference in him.  He was civil, almost nice.

 

"You should spend more weekends with Justin," Cynthia told him.

 

"What do you mean?" he asked.

 

"He has a very calming effect on you."

 

"How so?"

 

"I've been talking about your private life and you haven't bitten my head off once.  That's a big improvement over a couple of weeks ago."

 

"I didn't know my behaviour was being critiqued," he said testily.

 

"It was just an observation," she said carefully.

 

"Well, nothing is going to ruin my good mood."

 

"That's great.  So how was your weekend?"

 

"Fabulous!"

 

She smiled.  "My point exactly."

 

"And that point would be?"

 

"That a weekend with Justin does wonders for your disposition."

 

"I won't argue with that," he admitted.  "It's his absence that gets to me."

 

"I know, and I'm sorry you have to be apart."

 

"Yeah.  Anyway, let's get to work."

 

"Okay," Cynthia agreed.  "We need to get some ideas for this new furniture account."

 

"What's it called again?"

 

"Bedford Manufactured Furniture," Cynthia replied.

 

"What kind of fucking forgettable and unpronounceable name is that?"  Brian wondered aloud.

 

"Bedford is the founder and president of the company and they manufacture furniture," Cynthia explained slowly, treating Brian like a rather slow seven year old who just couldn't remember his times tables.

 

"I get the fucking point!"

 

Cynthia gave him a look, wanting to give him the finger.  However, she restrained herself and said in her best professional voice, "We need to come up with a new, easily recognizable logo for the products, and then a marketing scheme to promote them."

 

"Can the name go?" Brian asked.

 

"I think so, but Mr. Bedford will be at the meeting this afternoon, and we can clarify all that."

 

"Will he have samples or pictures of his products?"

 

"I've been asked to set up a slide projector, so I imagine he will fill us in and show us his products in detail."

 

"Okay.  Get Kevin and Jack to sit in.  They'll be working on this.  Bedford wants to go national, so this could be a big account."

 

"I'll set it all up," Cynthia said.  "Glad to see the steel trap mind is back."

 

Brian smiled in spite of himself.  He did feel so much better, so in control, knowing he and Justin were fine.  Having fucked his brains out all weekend, his thought processes were now crystal clear and ready to tackle any challenge.  "Bring on this meeting!" he thought.

 

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Justin walked slowly back toward the dorm.  He had had a great day, beginning with a lecture by the well-known artist Carlos Rivera.  He had followed this up with some studio work trying out the techniques Rivera had originated.  He had worked right through dinner and had completed a painting he was very pleased with.

 

As he walked, he was thinking of another piece he wanted to start tomorrow.  He had never felt so energized and creative, especially since the bashing.  He was still basking in the afterglow of Brian's visit, but he was also bursting with creative juices.  He looked up at the star-filled sky and smiled.  Sometimes life was so good, and tonight was one of those times, even without Brian.

 

The thought of Brian made him look at his watch.  It was ten to midnight and he wanted to be in his bed when Brian called.  He quickened his pace.  Someone had been walking behind him, and he heard their steps pick up speed in time with his.  A little ripple of fear made the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end.  He glanced over his shoulder to see who was behind him, but no one seemed to be there, just a few parked cars and some trees.  He was sure he had heard someone.  He walked even faster, bordering on a run, and once again he heard footsteps.  He really started to run.  As he rounded the end of a building, he ran smack into Zach Sherwood.

 

"Whoa, Taylor!  Who's after you?" Zach asked.

 

"Um … sorry.  I was in a hurry," Justin explained, looking nervously back over his shoulder.  No one was visible.

 

"Is something wrong?" Zach asked, noting Justin's worried face.

 

"It's probably nothing," Justin replied.  "I … I thought someone was following me."

 

"I don't see anyone," Zach said, looking around.

 

"I don't either.  Must be a case of bad nerves."

 

"Well, I'm going back to the dorm.  Want to walk together?"

 

"Sure," Justin said, relieved to have some company.

 

They began walking toward the dorm.  "What did you think of Rivera's lecture today?" Zach asked.

 

"I got some great ideas from him.  I just finished a piece using his palette knife techniques.  That's why I'm so late getting back to the dorm," Justin explained.

 

"How'd the piece turn out?"

 

"I'm really happy with it.  What did you think of Rivera?"

 

"I've already tried most of what he talked about, so it wasn't much use to me," Zach said with a rather superior tone.

 

"That's too bad.  I hope you can learn more from the next instructor."

 

"Me too.  Well, here we are," Zach said.  "Good night.  See ya tomorrow." He went into the common room.

 

"Thanks, Zach," Justin responded.  "I appreciated the company."  He ran up the stairs, feeling much better than he had a few minutes earlier.

 

Once in his room, he quickly got rid of his clothes and climbed into bed.  The phone rang almost immediately.  He grabbed it and said, "Hello."

 

"Hey," Brian's voice replied.  "You sound like you've been running."

 

"I just ran up the stairs.  I wanted to be in bed when you called," Justin explained.

 

"And are you?"

 

"Yes."

 

"Naked?"

 

"Yes."

 

"Good."

 

"How about you?"

"The same."

 

"How was your day?" Justin asked.

 

"I'm working on a campaign for a furniture company."

 

"What kind of furniture?"

 

"Modern."

 

"Was it interesting?"

 

"I met the president today and he showed us slides of his furniture.  Some of it is quite cool.  I'm playing around with a logo idea for 'Future Furniture'.  Future is included in Furniture, so I've got Kevin and Jack trying to figure out how to combine the two words into an attractive and catchy logo."

 

"Sounds like it could work."

 

"Yeah.  What did you do today?"

 

"I went to a lecture by Carlos Rivera."

 

"Should I know who that is?" Brian asked.

 

"He's a pretty well known artist.  He does kind of geometric stuff with thick paint applied with a palette knife.  I tried some of his techniques this afternoon and ended up working through dinner.  I just got back from the studio."

 

"I never thought I'd be saying this, but you need to make sure you eat regularly.  No skipping meals."

 

"Yes, daddy."

 

Brian bristled.  "Don't call me that!  I'm not your daddy."

 

"Sorry," Justin said, "but you sounded like a parent."

 

"I don't want you getting sick.  You need lots of stamina for the next time I see you."

 

"Oh?"

 

"Yes.  I have big plans."

"Like what?" Justin asked, knowing full well where this would lead.

 

"I'm going to throw you on the bed and ram my cock so far up your tight little ass that you'll be able to taste it in the back of your throat."

 

Justin felt his cock twitch and stiffen at Brian's words.  His hand immediately wrapped around it and he began stroking himself.  Brian heard the catch in his breath and a barely audible moan from somewhere deep in his chest.  He smiled to himself.

 

"Yummm," Justin grunted.  "You fill me up."

 

"You are so warm and tight around my cock," Brian sighed, working his own dick faster and faster.  "Squeeze me, baby!"

 

Justin pumped his fist more rapidly.  "Oh God, Brian!"

 

"I'm ready!" Brian gasped.

 

"Yes … yes.  Now!"  Justin shot his load and fell back against the pillows.  He heard Brian's guttural groan and knew he had come too.  "I wish you were here to hold me and kiss me," Justin whispered.

 

"I know."

 

"Can you come here this weekend?"

 

"I don't know yet.  There's a lot to do for this furniture account."

 

"I wish I knew we'd be together.  It would make it a lot easier to get through the rest of the week."

 

"In some ways it's harder when we're together.  I only miss you more when we're separated," Brian admitted.

 

"I feel the same."

"I better let you go.  You need your sleep.  Don't forget to eat," Brian cautioned.

 

"I'll take care of myself," Justin promised.

 

They hung up, hating to break the connection and feeling the distance between them.

 

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Justin enjoyed his week.  He had another guest lecturer.  This one was a woman.  He tried most of the things she talked about, but none of them worked particularly well for him.  Still, he filed away the ideas she had presented.  He was sure somewhere along the line he would call on them.

 

Zach Sherwood, on the other hand, made it clear to everybody that he didn't think much of her lecture or her techniques.  He caught up with Justin the day after her lecture, as Justin was heading to the dorm.

 

"Hey, Taylor," he said, as he fell in step.  "How's it going?"

 

"Okay," Justin replied.  "How about you?"

 

"Same old, same old.  I wish they'd get some decent lecturers."

 

"Like who?" Justin asked.

 

"I don't know.  Somebody with original ideas."

"I've found them pretty interesting," Justin stated.

 

"Really?  Wish I could say the same.  Hey, I'm going to Whiplash tonight.  Want to come?"

 

"Uh…no thanks.  I have some things to do," Justin said.

 

"How about on Saturday night or is your boyfriend coming?" Zach asked, giving Justin a suggestive look.

 

"I wish he was, but probably not."

 

"Too bad.  Then come with me.  It's more fun if there's a group."

 

"I don't know.  I'll have to see," Justin countered.

 

"Okay.  See ya!" Zach said, as he headed off in a different direction.

 

Justin still didn't know what to make of Zach.  He didn't really like him very much, but he had walked with him when he thought he was being followed, and he was trying to be friendly.  Maybe he would go to Whiplash with Zach, if Brian couldn't come to New York.  It might be fun to dance, especially if there was a group going.

 

It was Thursday afternoon.  He'd know tonight if Brian would be able to come to New York.  They had talked every night and had phone sex.  Brian was very busy with the furniture account.  He had been working on it every night before he called Justin.

 

Justin's phone rang at midnight.  As soon as Justin heard Brian's voice, he knew he wasn't coming to New York.

 

"You're not coming," Justin said immediately.

 

"Can't.  We're working all day Saturday," Brian said with a tinge of sadness in his voice.

 

"Shit!  I want you here!"

 

"I want to be there, but it's not going to happen."

 

"Want me to come there?"

 

"Yes, but it doesn't make much sense.  If I have to work most of the weekend, I'll hardly be able to see you."

"Oh.  What about next weekend?"

 

"That looks better.  We have to do a preliminary presentation for Bedford next Friday.  Once that's done, I'll have more time."

I like the sound of that, but I need you so much right now."

"Me too," Brian said, starting to caress his dick.

 

A few minutes, a little hand action and some descriptive words, and they were both ready to sleep.  Rather sadly they said goodnight and hung up.

 

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Justin saw Zach at lunch the next day.  Zach asked if Brian was coming to New York.  When Justin replied in the negative, Zach again asked him to come to Whiplash Saturday night.  Justin agreed.  He was kind of looking forward to it.  Without Brian the weekend had seemed long and empty.  Now he had something to look forward to.

 

He had agreed to meet Zach and the group in the common room at 10 p.m.  He had told Brian he was going to Whiplash.  Brian thought it was a good idea for him to get out with people his own age.  He was glad there was a group of them going, not just Zach.  He would call Justin at midnight, whether he was home or not.

 

When Justin walked into the common room, he saw Zach lying on a couch.  No one else was around.  "Hi," he said.

 

"Ready to go?" Zach asked, getting up.

 

"Where's the rest of the gang?"

"They pooped out.  Too tired or something.  Looks like it's you and me and a significant portion of the gay population of the Big Apple."

 

Justin didn't know what to say.  He thought they were going to be in a group.  Now it was just him and Zach.  "Are you sure you still want to go without everybody else?"

"Sure.  To Hell with them.  I want to dance.  Let's go!"  He grabbed Justin's elbow and propelled him out the door.

 

They grabbed a cab and were at Whiplash in a few minutes.  The place was packed.  Zach and Justin began dancing right away.  Zach was a good dancer and Justin began to enjoy himself.

 

"You've really got the moves," Zach told him.

 

"Thanks," Justin replied, remembering his success as King of Babylon.  That seemed like a long time ago.

 

"Want to get a drink?"

"Sure."

 

Justin followed Zach to the bar and they each got a beer.  They leaned on the bar surveying the crowd.

 

"I'm going to the john," Zach announced.  "Watch my drink."

Justin watched Zach move off towards the restrooms.  Immediately someone pressed against him and a voice asked, "Want to dance?"

"No thanks," Justin said.  He looked around at the same guy who tried to pick him up last weekend when Brian had rescued him.

 

"Why not?" the man asked.  "I don't see your boyfriend around."

 

"I'm waiting for someone."

 

"Yeah?  Who?"

"A friend.  He went to the john."

"So dance with me till he comes back."

"No, I don't think so."

 

"Well, I do," he said.  He grabbed Justin's wrist and pulled him out onto the dance floor.  The next thing he knew the guy was draped all over him, running his hands all over his body.  Justin tried to back away, but the guy pulled him closer, tightening his grip.

 

Justin struggled to free himself, but the man was bigger and heavier and seemed determined to keep Justin in his grasp.

 

"Hey!" Justin heard a voice say.

 

"What's your problem?" the unwanted suitor asked.

 

"He's with me," Zach stated emphatically.

 

"Not at the moment!"

 

"Back off, fella, or I’m getting security!" Zach threatened.  "You all right, Justin?"

 

The man released Justin and stepped back.  He seemed to be sizing up the two boys.  Suddenly, he said, "Oh, fuck it!" and headed away from them.

 

"Thanks, Zach," Justin said.  "He wouldn't take no for an answer."

"No problem.  There are assholes like that in every crowd.  Let's dance and forget about it."

 

Justin was a little shaken.  He never seemed to be able to take care of himself.  Last time Brian had rescued him and now Zach.  He didn't feel much like dancing anymore, but Zach wanted to and he owed him one.

 

They had several more dances and another beer.  Justin began to relax again.  He enjoyed dancing with Zach, more than talking to him.  Zach had a lot of stamina and Justin vowed to keep up with him.  Just before midnight Zach asked Justin if he'd like another drink.  They went over to the bar where Zach ordered two cosmopolitans.

 

"My treat," he said to Justin.

 

"Thanks," Justin replied.  "Drinks are expensive here."  He wondered how Zach could afford to do this more than once a week.  His family must have money.

 

They looked around the dance floor as they sipped their drinks.  Justin set his drink back on the bar and Zach said, "Isn't that the asshole who was all over you?"  Zach pointed to the centre of the dance floor.

 

Justin turned and peered into the mass of gyrating bodies.  He couldn't see anyone familiar.  "I don't see him and I don't want to."

 

"Maybe I was wrong.  Cheers!" he said raising his glass.

 

They polished off their drinks quickly.

 

"One more dance before midnight?" Zach asked.  Justin had told him that Brian would call at midnight, that he called at midnight every night.

 

"Sure," Justin said.

 

They went back into the crowd and started dancing.  All of a sudden Justin staggered a little and Zach grabbed him, holding him up.

 

"Hey, what's wrong?" he asked.

 

"I feel a little woozy.  Hot in here," Justin said groggily.

 

"Let's go outside and get some air."  He led Justin toward the entrance.  He retrieved their coats, propping Justin up against the wall.  Someone was just getting out of a cab, as they stepped outside.  He shoved Justin inside and told the cabbie to take them back to NYU.  Justin's head lolled against Zach's shoulder.  He was really out of it.

 

Just then Zach heard Justin's cell phone ring.  He fished it out of his friend's pocket.  He let it ring a couple of times, smiling as he looked at it.  Finally he pushed 'talk'.

 

"Hello?" he said.

 

"Who's this?" Brian's voice asked.

 

"Who's this?" Zach countered.

 

"Where's Justin?"

 

"In the john."

 

"What?"

 

"You heard me."

"Who the fuck are you?" Brian demanded.

"A friend."

 

"Put Justin on!"

 

"I told you he's in the john."

 

"Get him!"

 

"Are you Brian?"

 

"Yeah."

 

"He said if you called to tell you he'd call you tomorrow."

 

Justin moaned and leaned closer to Zach.

 

"What was that?" Brian asked, hearing the noise.

 

"Uh … just playing with myself," Zach grinned.

 

"What?"

 

"Justin and I have been having quite a time.  I'm getting ready for a little more action when he comes back from the john."

 

"Get Justin, now!" Brian yelled, seething.

 

"I told you he'll call you tomorrow."  Zach hung up and immediately shut the phone off.  He slipped it into his pocket as they pulled up in front of the dorm.  He shook Justin and slapped him a couple of times.  Justin's eyes tried to focus on Zach.

 

"Come on, sleepyhead!  Stay with me long enough to get you inside," Zach said, dragging Justin out of the cab.

 

Justin stumbled along, leaning heavily on Zach.  Zach managed to get him up the stairs and found the key to Justin's room in his jacket.  He opened the door and sat Justin down on the bed.  He took off Justin's jacket and pushed him back onto the bed.

 

"Sweet dreams," Zach said sarcastically.

 

He tossed Justin's keys and cell phone on the nightstand, and closed the door behind him.

 

Justin was already asleep, oblivious to what had just happened.

 

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Brian was beside himself.  He dialed Justin's number only to hear it ring until a message said it was currently unavailable.  He hung up.  He paced naked around the loft.  He needed to talk to Justin.  What the fuck was going on?  Who was that guy?  Arrogant fucker!

 

Was Justin fucking him right now?  What had happened?  They had agreed to talk at midnight.

 

Brian wanted to kill someone, himself, Justin, that shithead on the phone.  What could he do?  There was no way to get in touch with Justin if his cell phone was off.  He should have gotten Dale and Joanne's numbers, not just given them his.

 

"Fuck!" he yelled at the top of his lungs.

 

He headed to the kitchen and grabbed a bottle of Beam.  When in doubt, drink!  That had long been his motto, and he couldn't think of anything better to do at the moment.  He downed a good slug of the bourbon and felt the heat spread through his system.  He carried the bottle over to the couch and flopped down.  He put his arm across his eyes, hoping to block out the image of Justin sucking someone else's cock or moaning in ecstasy with someone else's dick up his ass.  He took another long drink and pictured Justin naked, looking up at someone who was about to kiss him.

 

"No!" he said aloud.  "No, no, no, no, no!"  He felt the tears sting his eyes and start their course down his cheeks.

 

How could Justin do this?  They had been so happy the last week, even though they were separated.  Everything had been fine.  He was sure of that. They talked every day.

 

Was Justin paying him back for his tricking?  Was he paying him back for not going to New York this weekend?  That wasn't like Justin to take revenge, an eye for an eye.  If that was what he was doing, he would have to forgive him.  He had forgiven Brian, but Brian couldn't believe he would do this.

 

He closed his eyes again and took a deep breath.  He felt there was a heavy weight sitting on his chest.  He took another drink.  There had to be some other explanation, but what could it be?  He needed to talk to Justin and find out what was going on. 

 

It was 1:30 in the morning.  He grabbed his cell and tried Justin's number one more time.  He got the same message.  "Fuck!" he yelled to the empty loft.  He looked at his cell phone like it was some poisonous, loathsome thing.  With all his might he hurled it at the brick wall of the loft.  It hit with a shattering sound that made him start.  He saw little pieces of it glitter and cascade to the hardwood below.  So much for that phone, he thought.  He chuckled crazily.

 

What was he going to do?  Why was Justin's phone still shut off?  He took another drink.  It was going to be a long night.

 

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Justin awoke at 10:24 a.m. according to the clock on the bureau.  His head throbbed and he felt like shit.  He realized he was in his room, but his head swam when he tried to focus.  What had happened last night?  He remembered dancing with Zach at Whiplash, but how did he get home?  He couldn't remember leaving the club.

 

He tried to sit up, but his stomach rolled and he thought he was going to throw up.  He collapsed back against the pillows and closed his eyes till the wave of nausea subsided.  When his stomach seemed to have settled a little, he dropped his legs over the side of the bed, and tried to sit up.  Nausea washed over him again, but he stayed sitting up till it passed.  He needed to get to the bathroom, but he wasn't sure he would be able to make it.

 

He remained seated for another minute or two, then made the supreme effort of standing up.  The room swam before his eyes.  He staggered against the door to this room.  He pressed his cheek to the cool wood, closing his eyes and fighting back the urge to vomit.  Slowly he reached for the doorknob.  He opened the door and looked out.  No one was in the hallway, so he gradually eased his way forward down the hall, leaning on the wall for support.  Thank goodness the washroom wasn't far.

 

He pushed the door open and edged into the washroom.  Another wave of nausea hit him, and he dove for a toilet.  He thought his intestines were coming up, as he heaved his guts out.  When he finally stopped puking, he flushed the toilet and leaned his face against the back of the toilet.  He was too weak to get up.  The cool porcelain felt good against his cheek.  He waited.  When no more nausea took him, he gripped the sides of the toilet and hauled himself up.  He actually felt a little better.  He walked carefully out of the stall and over to a sink.  He ran the cold water, splashed it over his face and sucked some up from the palm of his hand.  The water cooled his feverish face and washed away the awful taste in his mouth.  He leaned on the sink, sighing and feeling miserable.

 

After a few minutes, or he thought it was a few minutes, he stood up and looked at himself in the mirror.  He looked pale, but not as bad as he felt.  He thought he should go back to his dorm room and lie down.  Everything seemed to take so much effort.  He willed himself to move.  Slowly he made his way back to his bed.  He realized he was still wearing all of his clothes from last night.  He took his pants and shirt off and crawled under the covers.  He pulled the duvet up around his head and immediately fell asleep.

 

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Brian slammed the phone down.  He had tried Justin's cell for the millionth time.  It still said that it was not in service.  Where the Hell was that kid?  What was he doing?  Why was his phone turned off?

 

Brian paced around the loft.  It was just after eleven a.m. and still he couldn't reach Justin.  He had been very drunk last night.  That was the only way he had gotten through those long, lonely hours.  He hadn't really slept, just dozed fitfully.  He had tried again and again to figure out what could have happened with Justin.  It just didn't make any sense.

 

He was beginning to get even more worried.  Maybe something was really wrong with Justin.  Who was that asshole he had talked to last night?  Why hadn't Justin called him?

Why was his phone shut off?  He needed answers.

 

He wanted to call Jennifer and see if she knew anything, but he knew his phone call would upset her, probably for nothing.  He had to do something or he was going to go out of his fucking mind.

 

As he paced past the dining room table, something glistened on the floor and caught his attention.  It was the remnants of his cell phone that he had flung against the wall in his frustration at being unable to contact Justin.  He made an instant decision.  He grabbed his jacket and slammed the loft door behind him.  He was going shopping for a new cell phone.  That would distract him for a little while.  He had to get out of the loft and away from his thoughts.

 

A couple of hours later Brian returned with a new phone, the latest and best and most expensive.  He had also gotten a new shirt.  Shopping had kept his mind off his worries for the time he was out.  He had enjoyed having all of the features of the phone explained and demonstrated for him.  The shirt was an afterthought.

 

Brian checked his messages, holding his breath and hoping for a call from Justin.  Nothing.  He hadn't called.  "Shit!" Brian said shaking his head.

 

He picked up the phone and hit Michael's number.  "Want to go to the gym?" Brian asked when Michael answered.

 

"Sure," Michael replied.  "Ben's working on his lecture this afternoon."

 

"Meet you there in twenty minutes?"

 

"Right."

 

Brian hung up.  He gathered up his gym bag and headed out.  Michael was already at the gym, when Brian arrived.  So were Ted and Emmett.

 

"Howdy boys," Brian said, picking the step machine.

 

"Lookie, lookie, who's here," Emmett gushed.  "Must be a weekend without Justin."

 

Brian grimaced at the reference, but said nothing.

 

"Is Justin having a good time in New York?" Ted asked.

 

"Apparently so," Brian said sardonically.

 

"What has he been doing?" Ted continued.

 

"Screwing some asshole," Brian wanted to say, but instead he said, "A lot of museums and lectures."

 

"Has he done any sightseeing?" Ted asked.

 

"Another guy's cock," Brian thought.  "Statue of Liberty and a Broadway play," he said aloud.

 

"What play did he see?" Ted pursued.

 

"How the fuck should I know!" Brian retorted.  Why couldn't Ted just shut up?

 

"I was just asking," Ted said.  "What's the matter with him?" Ted whispered to Emmett.  Emmett shook his head.

 

"Why didn't you go to New York this weekend?" Emmett asked, thinking this would send the conversation in a different direction.

 

"Trying to get rid of me?" Brian snapped sarcastically.

 

"No.  I just wondered, when you had time to come to the gym …?"

"I had to work all day yesterday," Brian stated matter-of-factly.

 

"Oh," Emmett said, "too bad."

"Yeah." Brian admitted.  Too bad Justin was with someone else last night.  Too bad that Justin wouldn't talk to him.  Too bad that everything was a fucking mess.

 

Brian moved over to the weight machine.  He set it at a heavy weight and began lifting.  Maybe this would tire him out.  He hadn't slept last night, and he didn't think tonight would be any better, if he didn't get to talk to Justin.

 

He saw the others looking at him.  "What?" he said.

 

"Is something wrong?" Michael asked.

 

"What could possibly be wrong?"

"You seem a little off," Michael said.

 

Brian snorted and switched to the leg machine.  He began opening and closing his legs in a steady rhythm.  He stared off into space, not paying any attention to his friends or his surroundings.

 

"Brian, Brian!" he heard someone saying.

 

"What?"

 

"You've been doing that machine for ten minutes.  What's going on?  What are you doing?" Michael asked.

 

"Contemplating the fucking meaning of life!"  Brian stood up and walked away, heading for the steam room.  His legs burned from the repetitions on the machine.

 

Michael followed him into the steam room.

 

"Brian," he began, "what's going on?"

 

"Nothing."

 

"You can't fool me.  I know something is wrong."

 

"Let it be."

 

"Brian, come on.  Talk to me.  Is it Justin?"

 

Brian considered telling him to fuck off, but instead he said, "When I called Justin last night, some guy answered his phone and implied that he and Justin had just had sex."

 

"What?"

 

"You heard me."

 

"Justin wouldn't do that, would he?"

 

Brian shrugged.  "I haven't talked to him since.  His phone is shut off.  I don't know if there's something wrong with him or if he feels guilty and won't talk to me.  I need to know what's going on." Brian sighed and squeezed the bridge of his nose.

 

"Is there someone there you could call?" Michael asked.

 

"Nobody that I can think of."

 

Michael rubbed Brian's shoulder.  "I'm sorry." he said.

 

"I don't know what to do."  Brian's voice cracked slightly.

 

Michael leaned into Brian and kissed him.  "It'll be all right."

 

Brian shook his head.  "I don't know," he said.  His arms wrapped around Michael's slender frame and he held on like his life depended on it.

 

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Justin woke at 3:35.  He had slept most of the day away.  He felt groggy, but no longer like he was going to throw up his toenails.  He sat up carefully, blinking at the sunlight coming through his window.  His head throbbed dully.

 

He stayed that way for a few minutes, then stood up.  He felt a little woozy, but not enough to make him sit back down.  He needed to go to the washroom.  That was accomplished without too much trouble.  He was very thirsty and took a long drink from the tap in the washroom.  He vaguely remembered throwing up on his last trip in there.

 

What had happened last night?  It was all a blur after he had danced at Whiplash.  He needed to find Zach and get him to tell him what had gone on.

 

"Brian!  Shit!" he said aloud.  He hadn't talked to him last night.  At least he didn't think he had.  He went quickly back to his room.

 

He fished for his phone in his jacket.  It wasn't there.  He looked around the room and saw it laying on his nightstand.  He wondered why it was there.  Had he talked to Brian?  He picked it up and saw that it was turned off.  He checked for messages.  There were none.  Hadn't Brian called him last night or had he talked to him and couldn't remember?  Why was his phone shut off?

 

Justin hit Brian's number at the loft.  He got the answering machine.  He left a short message asking Brian to call him.  He tried Brian's cell, but the message said it was out of service.  He wondered about that.

 

He propped up some pillows on the bed and leaned back against them.  He would wait until Brian called before he did anything else.

 

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Brian came back to the loft after he finished at the gym.  Michael had offered to come with him, but he didn't want company.  It was almost quarter after four when he got home.  He checked his messages and found the one from Justin.

 

"Thank God," he muttered.  He had begun to worry that Justin was hurt or dead.

 

He hit Justin's number and a voice said, "Hello?'

 

"Justin?" Brian almost yelled.

 

"Yeah.  Who else would it be?"

 

"Your lover."

 

"What?  That's you."

 

"Is it?"

 

"Brian, what are you talking about?"

 

"You know."

 

"I don't.  What do you mean?"

 

"Cut the innocent act!  I talked to him last night."

 

"You called last night?"

 

"Didn’t he tell you?  I called at midnight, like always."

 

Justin groaned.  "And you talked to someone?"

 

"Didn't I just say that?  He said you were in the john."

 

"Brian, I don't remember much about last night.  I don't know how I got home.  I have no idea who you talked to."

 

"What do you mean?  Were you drunk?"

 

"I don't think I drank that much.  I don't know."

 

"Justin, what the fuck went on last night?"

 

"I don't know."

 

Brian could hear the quiver in Justin's voice.  He was on the verge of tears.

 

"Calm down," Brian said gently.  "Let's figure this out."  He heard Justin choke back a sob and take a deep breath.

 

"Better?" Brian asked.

 

"Um hmm."

 

"Good.  What do you remember?"

 

"I danced with Zach all night.  There were only the two of us who ended up going.  Everybody else backed out."

 

"Could it have been Zach I talked to?"

 

"I don't know.  I don't remember anything after Whiplash."

 

"Have you talked to Zach?"

 

"No, I slept late and then threw up."

 

"You were sick?" Brian asked, alarm bells going off.

 

"Yeah.  Really sick.

 

"Do you think somebody slipped you something?"

 

"Oh, no.  I don't see how."

 

Brian let that pass.  He knew how easy it was to slip something into a drink at a club.

 

"What were you drinking?" he asked. 

 

"Beer mostly."

 

"Did you have any mixed drinks?"

 

"Umm … I think Zach bought me a cosmopolitan before things went hazy on me," Justin said, trying to remember.

 

"After that you have no idea what happened to you?"

 

"No, not really."

 

"Justin, I don't like the sound of this.  You need to talk to Zach and find out what went on at Whiplash.  See if it was him on the phone last night."

"I was too sick to go find him today, but I will tomorrow."

 

"Good, but be careful."

 

"Why?"

 

"It could have been him I talked to."

 

"What did this guy say to you?" Justin asked, not sure he wanted to hear the answer.

 

Brian wasn't sure how much he should tell Justin, but he decided the boy needed the full story, if he was going to get anything out of Zach.  "He implied you two were fucking," Brian said much more calmly than he actually felt.

 

"What?  Oh, Brian! I didn't.  I wouldn't."

 

"But you were out of it," Brian reminded him.

 

"But…but…I couldn't have, without knowing …"

 

"I hope not, Justin, but you don't know what happened."

 

"This is a nightmare!" Justin moaned.  "I just wanted to dance and have some fun."

 

"It's not your fault."  Brian tried to console him.

 

"What have you been thinking ever since that call?"  Justin asked in a small voice.

 

"Everything," Brian replied sadly.  "I thought you had cheated on me … again.  I thought you didn't want me anymore.  I thought something terrible had happened to you, when I couldn't reach you.  I thought I'd lost you.  I thought you must be dead.  I thought I was going to go out of my fucking mind."

 

"I'm sorry," Justin whispered.

 

"So am I."

 

"Why are you sorry?"

 

"That I didn't come there, even if it was only for a few hours."

 

"Oh, Brian …"

 

"But sorry doesn't change anything," Brian admonished.  "You need to be careful.  Call me after you talk to Zach."

 

"Okay," Justin promised.

 

"Are you all right now?  You're not sick anymore?'

 

"I'll be all right," Justin said and hung up.  He would talk to Zach tomorrow.  He still felt very tired. So he snuggled down in his bed and was soon fast asleep.

 

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Monday morning Justin awoke ravenous.  He realized he hadn't eaten at all on Sunday, on top of which he had thrown up whatever was in his system from Saturday.  He felt like his old self.  He went to breakfast and ate everything he laid eyes on.  He looked around for Zach as he finished up his toast, but there was no sign of him.

 

He headed over to his first class.  He saw Zach talking to some man near the door to the lecture hall.  The man had his back to Justin, and he left before Justin approached.  Justin had a fleeting sense that the man looked familiar, but he hadn't seen his face and couldn't imagine who it might be.

 

"Hi, Zach," he said.  "Who was that guy you were talking to?"

"My cousin," Zach replied.

 

"I didn't know you had family here."

"He works in New York.  We go to Whiplash together sometimes."

 

"Oh.  I thought he looked familiar, but I didn't really get a good look at him."

"Um … I doubt you'd know him," Zach said.

 

"Probably not," Justin agreed.  "Listen.  I need to talk to you about Saturday night.  I don't remember much about it."

"You were kind of out of it when I brought you home."

"What time was that?"

"Some time after midnight."

"Did my phone ring?"

"No.  Why?"

"Somebody answered it and talked to Brian."

"Really?  I wonder who?"

 

"I don't know.  I thought it might have been you," Justin said, watching Zach's reaction.

 

"No.  Although, you remember it was missing for awhile?"

 

"Missing?"

 

"Yeah.  Just before midnight you wanted to check that it was turned on and it wasn't in your pocket."

 

"I don't remember that."

"You'd had several drinks by then, and you weren't making a lot of sense."

"Really?  How many drinks did I have?"

 

"You liked the cosmopolitan I bought you.  I think you had three or four more."

 

"I don't usually drink like that."

"Well. You did on Saturday.  I was kinda surprised."

"And I guess I was kinda drunk," Justin joked.

 

"Very drunk."

"So what happened with my phone?" Justin asked.

 

"You couldn't find it, and you got sort of frantic.  Next thing I knew you nearly passed out.  I had to hold you up."

 

"Sorry about that."

 

"It's okay.  I probably shouldn't have let you drink so much."

"That wasn't your fault," Justin admitted.

 

Zach gave him a strange smile.  Justin couldn't quite imagine what it meant. 

 

He continued, "I decided I better get you home before you passed out altogether.  I sat you down on a step and went to get our coats.  There was a cell phone sitting on the counter at the coat check, so I brought it back to you.  You kind of mumbled that it was yours, so I brought it back to your room.  I think I left it on your nightstand.  I had a job getting your coat on and bringing you back here."  Zach finished his story with a smug look on his face.

 

"Thanks for bringing me back home, and for retrieving my phone.  I found it on the nightstand."

 

"So I guess whoever found it at the club could have talked to Brian." Zach suggested.

 

"Maybe, but I don't know."

 

"Why?"

 

"Something they said to Brian."

"What's that?"

 

"They implied we were fucking."

 

"What?  Are you kidding?"  Zach looked shocked.  "That must have pissed Brian off!"

 

"He wasn't happy," Justin admitted.

 

"I bet!"

 

Justin looked at Zach.  Everything he said was plausible, but he didn't seem in the least upset about what had happened.  In fact he almost seemed to be enjoying it.

 

"I guess we better get to class," Justin said, turning to enter the lecture hall.

 

Zach watched him go, a little smirk on his face.

 

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Justin called Brian after his class.  He explained what Zach had told him about the events of Saturday night.  Brian listened to it all, but he didn't believe that a stranger had made that call.

 

"Why not?" Justin asked.

 

"I think he called me Brian."

 

"Are you sure?"

 

"Not a hundred percent.  I wanted to kill the guy, so I wasn't paying close attention to every word, but I think so."

 

"So that leaves Zach."

 

"He's got my vote," Brian stated.

 

"I don't know, Brian.  He hasn't done anything suspicious.  In fact he's helped me a couple of times."

 

"It may be a front he's putting on."

 

"But why would he do that?  I never met him till I came here.  He doesn't know either of us.  Why would he do something like that and lie about it?"

 

"That's the $64,000 question."

 

"This is too weird!" Justin observed.

 

"Beyond weird."

 

"What should I do?" Justin asked, looking for advice.

 

"Be careful, especially around Zach."

"You really think it could be him?"

 

"Whether it is or not, watch him!" Brian ordered.

 

"I will."

 

"And stick with Dale and Joanne.  I trust them."

"Okay."

"Do they have cell phones?"

 

"I don't know," Justin admitted.

 

"Well, find out, and get me their numbers if they do."

"Why?"

 

"I was frantic when I couldn't contact you on Sunday.  If I had their numbers, they could have checked on you."

 

"Okay.  I'll ask them."

 

"Good.  I love you," Brian said softly.

 

Justin was surprised.  It wasn't often that Brian said those words.  He must be really worried about me, Justin thought.  "I love you too.  Later." He promis