All About Justin
 

Chapter 9

 

“Halloo, halloo,” Emmett called as he came in through the sun porch.

Brian opened one eye, and turned to look at Justin. Justin slept on oblivious to the intrusion. Brian glanced at the clock on the nightstand. It read 8:12. “Fuck!” he muttered as he closed his eye and pulled the pillow over his head. Surprisingly he didn’t hear another sound, and he gradually drifted back to sleep.

About a half hour later Brian’s eye opened once more. Noting that it was almost nine o’clock, he wondered why Bree hadn’t come to their door to waken them. He slid out of bed and pulled on some sweatpants and a T-shirt. He left Justin sleeping as he headed for the kitchen and the smell of freshly brewed coffee. Bree must have pushed the button on the coffeemaker.

As Brian neared the kitchen he heard voices. He was about to step in when Bree’s distinctive voice wafted out towards him, and then he heard Emmett answer her. He stopped and listened.

“So, everyone you invited is coming to your sleepover party?” Emmett asked.

“Yep,” was Bree’s terse answer. “And my invitations were soooo beautiful,” she added.

“Were they now?”

“Yep, my daddies helped me make them. Each one was different and special, and everybody loooved them.”

“Your daddies helped you, as in both daddies?” Emmett asked skeptically.

Brian ground his teeth at the implication that he couldn’t have helped Bree make her invitations. He was about to set one Emmett Honeycutt straight, when he heard Bree’s reply.

“My Daddy and me made the first one. It was for Ashley and it was a pretty pink princess dress, and it opened up and all the information was inside. Ashley thought it was beautiful. Me and her play princess sometimes. Then Daddy got really busy with his painting, so Dada and me made the rest. Dada knows how to find really good pictures on the internet. He showed me how to Google,” Bree giggled. “That’s a silly word, but it works good. And we found a computer for Brenda and a flower garden for Winona and…”

“You have been a busy little thing, haven’t you?” Emmett interrupted. “You and your Dada.”

“And her Dada is perfectly capable of making party invitations, Honeycutt,” Brian said as he strode into the kitchen. He grabbed a coffee mug and poured himself a cup of coffee.

“And a cheery good morning to you too,” Emmett responded. “And I didn’t say you couldn’t make invitations. I was just surprised that you did. And don’t call me Honneycutt.”

“Any other orders?” Brian snarked.

“Dada, be nice to Auntie Emm. He’s helping me plan my party,” Bree said with all the wisdom of the twenty-seven year old whom Brian was sure was hiding in that tiny body.

“Your wish is my command, General Squirt,” Brian replied making a mock salute to his daughter before sitting down at the table with her and Emmett. “So what are you two plotting?”

“Auntie Emm says we should have some games to play when everybody gets here,” Bree explained.

“Hm, not a bad idea, Honeycutt. What games would you suggest?”

Emmett glared at Brian for calling him Honeycutt again, but then he decided to take a different tack. “You realize my party planning expertise does not come cheap.”

“I’ll owe you one,” Brian muttered as he sipped his coffee.

“Oooh, it’s always nice to have you owe me one,” Emmett gushed.

“Don’t press your luck.”

“Oh, pshaw! You know you love me.”

Brian did not answer, knowing that he did love Emmett. He thought, however, that at that moment silence might be his best course of action.

“What games should we play, Auntie Emm?” Bree asked when no one said anything more. She wondered why adults were so easily distracted.

“I think you should start with Pin-the-Tail-on-the-Donkey,” Emmett suggested.

“That old thing!” Brian reacted.

“It’s always a children’s favorite in spite of what you might think, Mr. Kinney. And if you persist in these rude comments, I have a definite suggestion for who should be the donkey.” Emmett looked meaningfully at Brian.

Brian stuck his tongue out at Emmett, and mumbled, “You wish.”

“Bad, Dada,” Bree said. “Daddy said I should never stick my tongue out at anybody.”

“Your Daddy is correct,” Brian agreed. “Auntie Emm knows I’m just teasing, don’t ya, Honeycutt.”

“Pfft!” Emmett said. “You could have your friends fingerpaint,” he suggested with a wicked look at Brian who groaned audibly as he thought of the potential mess.

“Oh yes, Auntie Emm, that’s a good idea,” Bree agreed.

“We’ll see,” Brian said in his most non-committal voice.

“Have you thought about where the munchkins are going to sleep?” Emmett asked next.

“Some in Bree’s room and some in Gus’ room,” Brian replied.

“We want to be together, Dada,” Bree said.

“How about setting up the sun porch?” Emmett suggested. “We could bring down the futons from the two offices and use the big brass bed. That should sleep six girls.”

“If they sleep at all,” Brian grumbled.

“We could put some pink tulle around the room and make it like a fairy princess palace.”

“Heavy on the fairy,” Brian threw in.

“I think I have a roll of pink tulle left over from a wedding,” Emmett said ignoring Brian’s comment. “We could make you each a princess bed to sleep in.”

“Oh, Auntie Emm, could you?” Bree asked her eyes getting huge with the idea of princess beds for all her friends.

“I most certainly can, little princess,” Emmett responded.

“Emmett, you don’t have to,” Brian said quietly.

“I want to,” Emmett informed him. “Bree is like my daughter too, and I want her to have the best party. I’ll look for that roll of tulle as soon as I go back to Pittsburgh.”

“Thank you, Auntie Emm,” Bree said wrapping her arms around Emmett’s neck.

“No problem, sweetie,” Emmet said kissing her cheek. “And we have one more thing to discuss.”

“What’s that?” Bree asked.

“Your birthday cake. Of course, I’m going to make it.”

“Really?” Bree asked.

“Yes, and I thought I’d make a Barbie cake, all pink and princessy since that seems to be the theme of this shindig.”

“I love you, Auntie Emm,” Bree said with reverence in her voice.

“I love you right back, sweetie,” Emmett replied. “Have you got an old Barbie doll that I can have for the cake?”

“I need my Barbies,” Bree said as the thought of losing one of them struck her. She didn’t like that idea.

“I just need to borrow her,” Emmett said patiently. “You’ll get her back after the party.”

“Okay,” Bree agreed. She slid down from her chair and ran off to her bedroom to find a Barbie.

“You don’t have to go to all this trouble, Emmett,” Brian said as soon as Bree had left the room. “Or if you do, at least let me pay you.”

“I am mightily offended, Mr. Kinney. I love that little girl. She’s like the daughter I’ve always wanted. I choose to do this for her, and I don’t expect anything in return … even you owing me one.”

“Emm,” Brian said gently. He realized he had offended his friend. “I didn’t mean to upset you. I would really appreciate any help you can give us. The thought of six little girls overnight is scaring the pants off me.”

“Ooh, something good is coming out of this,” Emmett joked.

“Honeycutt!”

“I want to help with Bree’s party, Brian. We’ll make this a terrific sleepover for the little ones.”

“Thanks,” Brian said simply, earning a gap-toothed grin from the big old queen.

“Here, Auntie Emm,” Bree squealed as she ran back into the kitchen clutching one of her more ragged Barbie’s in her hand. She offered it to Emmett.

“We need to fix her hair, but she’ll do nicely. I can dress her up exquisitely, in pink, of course.”

Brian chuckled as a sleepy Justin came into the kitchen. “What’s going on in here?” he asked.

“Party Planning 101,” Brian replied. And that said it all.

 

*****
 

Justin stepped back and stared at his painting. It was almost right, almost but not quite. He studied Brian’s eyes in the painting. They were perfect, dark and deep.

The hair was the slightly unruly, slightly disheveled, slightly mussed up mess that always made Brian look so sexy, so adorable, good enough to lick, good enough to eat, good enough to fuck.

“But I digress,” Justin murmured and gave himself a mental shake. “Concentrate,” he ordered himself. He willed his cock to stop having a mind of its own.

Justin studied Brian’s nose as he had painted it. It was perfect in his estimation. Brian had a rather large nose, but it suited his face totally. Justin looked more closely. Yes, it was just right. Nothing needed to be changed there.

He looked at Brian’s ear that was visible. He had nibbled on that ear many’s a time. He traced the curves of the outside of the ear with his eyes. That ear was ingrained in his memory and it looked just the way it should. He looked at the interior of the ear. All the light and shadow was in the correct places with just the right contrast values. Not the ears then.

The mouth was a little severe, but that was what he wanted to portray. He wanted it to be determined and serious. The mouth was exactly the same as in the sketch.

Justin took a step back from the portrait. The picture was almost perfect, so what was it that was bothering him? Justin glanced over at his sketchbook where it was propped up on the table. The partially burned picture of Brian stared back at him. He looked back and forth from one to the other. Everything was exactly the same, the way he had intended it to look. And yet … it just wasn’t right.

Justin frowned and tried squinting at his painting. Maybe the narrow view through his partially closed eyes would tell him what was wrong. It didn’t help. Everything seemed to be the way he had wanted it to look.

With a big sigh, Justin walked across the sun porch and slumped down onto one of the chaises. He stared across at his portrait. This was going to be his first in the ‘Chronicling Justin Taylor’ series that he wanted to do. And now it was all wrong. He couldn’t paint what he wanted to. He was fucked. Why did he start these idiotic ideas? He closed his eyes and tried to imagine what would make the portrait look right to him. Nothing much came to mind. All he could picture in his mind’s eye was Brian, the way he had looked before he had gone outside a bit earlier to straighten up the shed and get ready for his spring plantings. He pictured the Brian who now loved to garden and make beautiful flowers grow.

“Not bad,” a voice said through the haze of Justin’s thoughts.

Justin slowly opened his eyes and saw Brian standing in front of his easel.

“You weren’t supposed to see that yet,” Justin said in a petulant, little boy voice. “It’s not finished.”

“It looks pretty finished to me, and if you don’t want me to see it, you shouldn’t leave it uncovered like this.”

“It’s not right,” Justin said heaving a beleaguered sigh.

“What’s not right?” Brian asked as he studied the portrait. It certainly looked like him.

“That portrait. It’s supposed to look like that sketch,” Justin said gesturing towards his work table and the burned sketchbook.

“It looks exactly like that,” Brian stated after studying Justin’s work for a minute.

“Then why isn’t it right?”

Brian opened his mouth to answer, but he wasn’t sure what Justin was getting at. “Maybe I have too many clothes on,” Brian said after a minute. “You paint me best when I’m naked.”

Justin chuckled in spite of his funk over not being able to capture on canvas what he thought he saw in his head. “That’s true, but I’m supposed to be replicating some of my early sketches.”

“I’d say you’ve done that … precisely.”

“You think so?” Justin asked in surprise.

“Absolutely,” Brian told him. “This portrait is exactly like the sketch.”

“Then why isn’t it right?”

“What’s not right about it?” Brian asked.

“That’s what I’ve been trying to figure out. I don’t know what’s wrong with it, but I don’t like it. It’s … not what I wanted it to be.”

“Tell me what you wanted it to be.”

“When I look at that sketch of you, I see the man I fell in love with, a man that was visible only to me. I see the sexy surface, but I also see your integrity, your determination and how committed you were to the life you led back then. That’s what I wanted to capture.”

“Hm,” Brian said as he studied the portrait with a fresh view of what Justin was trying to do. “I’d say you captured all that.”

“Did I?” Justin asked with a hopeful glint in his eye. Maybe his painting wasn’t so wrong after all. Then he looked at it again, and he knew it was wrong, was probably never going to turn out right. He walked over to the portrait and lifted it down from the easel. He turned it around so all that anyone would be able to see was the back of the canvas. He leaned it against one of the windows in the sun porch. “I don’t think I’ll work on it anymore,” Justin said almost in a whisper.

“You don’t like it, do you?”

Justin shook his head. “I thought I could capture you when I first met you,” Justin said softly. “But maybe I can’t.”

“I think you did capture me the way I was back then.”

“Then why is it wrong?” Justin asked in bewilderment. “I should love that portrait.”

Brian thought about that then he picked up the canvas and set it back on the easel.

“Don’t…” Justin said.

“Just a minute. Let me look at this.”

Justin shook his head, but he let Brian study the picture. Meanwhile Justin walked over to the chaise where he had sat before, and he sank down on it again. He decided that his original idea had been a big mistake. Maybe you really couldn’t go back, and that had been what he had tried to do. It had been an exercise in futility.

“You wanted to show integrity, determination and the man I was at the time that you drew this sketch?” Justin nodded. “I think you’ve done that.”

“And I was just thinking that you can’t go back, can’t go home again. You know what I mean?”

“Yes, I do, and I think you’re right.”

“So I should just scrap the whole idea. Right?” Justin asked with a grimace. It had sounded like a good idea when he started the portrait, but now he knew it wasn’t meant to be.

“No, I don’t think you should scrap it,” Brian replied. “Even though I like the nudes much better, this is a very good portrait. There’s just one problem with it.”

“I know, and I think we just said that you can’t recapture the past, so I should abandon the whole idea.”

“I didn’t say that.”

“I did,” Justin averred.

“You’re wrong.”

Justin snorted. “I can’t fix it. I don’t like it.”

“That’s because the man you painted in the portrait doesn’t exist.”

“Yes, you do. You’re right here.”

“I’m here, but he’s not,” Brian said nodding towards the painting.

“I know.”

“You shouldn’t be painting him,” Brian stated.

“Huh? You still have integrity and determination, all the things I wanted to show.”

“Yes, but … I’m so much happier than he ever was. I can still have integrity and determination, but I don’t have that hard edge, that … cynicism that I see in your sketch and in this portrait.”

“Hard edge?” Justin said thoughtfully.

“I think it’s the mouth that’s wrong,” Brian said. “It’s too severe. That man doesn’t exist anymore. You softened me and opened me up to the joys of the world.”

“I did?” Justin asked with a big smile. “That is a beautiful thing to say to me.”

“And it’s true.”

“I love you,” Justin whispered.

“I love you too, but what you need to paint is the here and now. That’s what you do best. This guy in your sketch is the man I was then. It’s the companion piece to your painting. But your painting needs to reflect all the ways you’ve changed me, made me a better person, helped me find love and happiness that I never believed I deserved … back then.”

“That’s it!” Justin gasped. “You’re absolutely right. I know what to do now.”

“Paint me happy?” Brian asked.

“Kind of.”

“No goofy, toothy, Emmett grins for me.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” Justin chuckled, picking up one of his paintbrushes. “I need to paint the inner peace and serenity that you’ve achieved,” Justin said definitively.

“Good luck capturing that,” Brian chuckled.

“I can do it.”

“I know you can,” Brian said kissing Justin’s cheek. “I need to go pick up the kids from school.”

“I may have a much better portrait to show you when you get back,” Justin said with a smile as he started mixing some flesh colors for Brian’s mouth.

“I look forward to seeing it,” Brian replied with a smile before he hurried out to get the children.
 

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