All the Rage
Chapter 6
To: hotassartist@yahell.com
From: xhustlermsw@jkcdc.org
Hey Blondie;
When are you going to get off your fat ass
and come back to the Pitts? John says the cast is off and you're walking with a
fancy smancy cane that the studman got for you.
Seriously, Justin, I have a big favor to
ask you. A new kid came into the clinic this week. Lacy came in all beat up; I
think a john got rough. Lacy refused to let me look at the bruises so I got one
of the nurses from Allegheny to come by. We discovered something real
interesting. I thought Lacy was a HE...he's a SHE. She's passing herself off as
a boy and doing tricks. The nurse says she wasn't raped and refused the rape
kit. The best I could do was to get her into the shower, some clean clothes and
a couple of hot meals.
It took a few days for Lacy to trust me.
But when she did I found out that she likes to draw. She was doodling on some
paper and the stuff reminded me of Rage. When I questioned her about it she
confided that Rage and you are her heroes. Justin, would you stop by and look
at her stuff. I know she has to finish high school. Truthfully I don't even
know her age. She looks very young and has a boyish figure. Maybe you can get
her to talk.
Think about it.
Bye, Blondie!
To: xhustlermsw@jkcdc.org
From: hotassartist@yahell.com
Hey Hunter;
I'm coming in tomorrow with John and of
course I'll stop by the clinic to meet Lacy. See you then.
And stop calling me Blondie!
*****
JKCDC Diary
Justin's coming tomorrow and maybe Lacy
will confide in him. I can't seem to get her to talk to me.
Got some great news
today that will really help me out. I've been putting in a lot of hours and I'm getting tired. I don't
want to burn out before I can do some good down here. Karen has consented to
move her office here! I certainly have the room. She'll be the day shift and
I'll be here in the afternoon till about
Some more good news. Emmett and Ben have been spending some time here too.
Emmett rallied some of the local clothing merchants and they've donated a lot
of clothes. Leave it to Emmett to make sure my 'lost kids' are fashionable lost
kids. Many of them are in rags when they show up. We can't salvage their
clothes. So I have closets and drawers filled with new or good as new clothes
and sneakers. I hated being out there without a warm coat or gloves. Sometimes
I thought I'd never get warm again.
Ben wants to do some volunteering. He's
been living with HIV longer than me; he's living proof that it can be done. And
I missed him and Michael so much. It'll be good to spend time with him.
Got to go, Lacy just walked in. She looks
so tired. Maybe I can get her to take a nap.
*****
While I was out of commission, Gordon and
crew took out all of the theater seating. With a little research, we can match
the original red velvet upholstery. The chandelier comes down next.
Justin's coming with me tomorrow. I hope
he's forgiven me. I hope Brian's forgiven me. I know they don't blame me but I
blame me. I can't seem to forgive myself. I was careless, so taken in by my
excitement. I won't let that happen again.
*****
"Brian, will you stop hovering,"
Justin said as he got dressed.
"I don't think you should go back to
that theater. Look what happened last time."
"It was a freak accident. I'll be fine.
John will be with me."
"And John's still picking splinters
out of his fucking ass!" Brian declared.
Justin tried not to laugh. "John's
ass is fine. All healed, and so's my ankle … almost."
"No, you're not going."
"Brian, queen out! Calm the fuck down."
"You don't have to do this. John can
find someone else to evaluate what should be done with the inside of the
theater."
"I'm well aware that he can find
someone else, but I don't want him to. I want to do this."
Brian shook his head. He was losing the
battle and he was worried that if he didn't shut the fuck up, he would make
Justin seriously angry at him. However, he couldn't stop himself. "Then
I'm coming with you," he stated.
"Brian, for Christ's sake, I'm not two
years old. I'm not a baby like Bree. You're staying here and looking after the
kids, and I'm going to
Brian looked like a sad little boy who had
just lost his puppy. "I'll miss you. Be careful."
"You know I will," Justin said
gently running his fingers along Brian's cheek.
Brian caught his hand and kissed the palm.
He pulled Justin against him. "I'll worry," he whispered.
"I'll call you every couple of hours,
I promise."
"You fucking
better."
Justin smiled. "Now, can I have some
breakfast so I don't starve to death before we get to the theater?"
"Okay, if you must," Brian said
tongue in cheek. He knew he had to let Justin go, but it had been worth a shot
to try to keep him safe at the cottage.
They made their way out to the kitchen
where John and Bobby were feeding the kids. They were all enjoying frozen
waffles that Bobby was toasting for them. Bree sat in her high chair picking up
little pieces of waffle covered with syrup. Her mouth and all surrounding regions
were covered in the sweet, sticky substance.
Justin leaned down to kiss her. "Yum,
you taste so good," Justin told her licking some of the syrup off her
face.
Bree giggled and smiled back at her father
with his own smile. She watched Brian pour himself a cup of coffee and sit down
at the table. She frowned and raised her arms for him to pick her up or at
least kiss her. Brian ignored her lost in his own thoughts about how Justin
would get through the day without getting hurt again.
"Someone's trying to get your
attention," John said to Brian.
"Hm."
"Brian, what's wrong? She wants a
kiss."
"Far too fattening for me,"
Brian observed in a dispassionate manner.
"Brian?" John asked again
frowning at his brother and wondering what the hell had got into the man.
Everyone knew that Bree was the apple of his eye.
"He's worrying about me falling
through a floor or off some scaffolding," Justin said as he retrieved his
waffle from the toaster.
"Scaffolding! You are not fucking going up on scaffolding!"
Brian declared.
"No, I'm not. I was making a point.
Do you see what I've been putting up with ever since the alarm went off?"
Justin asked as he covered his waffle in syrup.
Bobby chuckled. "They'll be
fine," he said to Brian. "I have John's word on it."
Brian snorted as he watched Bree's face
scrunch up ready to cry. "She's about to blow," he said smugly as he
sat back and watched his daughter let out a blood curdling scream.
"She wants her father even if he is a
fucking asshole this morning," Justin said picking Bree out of her high
chair and trying to soothe her. She whimpered against his shoulder holding her
little hands out to her other father and opening and closing them in a way that
could only mean she wanted his attention.
"Brian!" Bobby said looking at
Brian like he had suddenly grown another head or turned into someone none of
them knew.
Brian stared at Bree for a minute and then
the hard façade dropped from his face. "Come here, Squirt," he said
softly taking her from Justin's arms. "It's okay, little one," he
whispered against her hair as she clung to his neck. "Daddy's been in a
foul mood this morning. I'm sorry."
Bree leaned back looking into her father's
face, her own eyes sparkling with tears. "Dada," she said as she
pressed her face against Brian's.
"I know, baby, I've been bad,"
Brian cooed.
"Let's go clean up Patrick,"
Bobby said leading his husband and son out of the kitchen and leaving the
Kinney-Taylor tribe alone.
"Brian, are you going to be all
right?" Justin asked as he sat down beside Brian and Bree.
Brian held Bree's little face against his
own. "I'll be all right if you are," Brian whispered.
"I'll be fine. Nothing's going to
happen to me."
"Promise?"
"I promise," Justin said.
"Are you up to handling both kids on your own today?" Justin was
concerned that Brian's meltdown would make him less able to withstand a whole
day of toddlers.
"We'll be fine, won't we, Bree?"
Brian said.
Bree pulled her sticky face away from her
father's and looked into his eyes. She patted his face as if to say that she
would be a good girl just for him.
Justin leaned down and kissed Brian's lips
softly. He licked a little of the syrup off Brian's cheek.
Brian chuckled. "Didn't you get
enough syrup on your waffles?"
"It's you that I never get enough
of," Justin whispered.
"I'll be here when you get
home."
"Hold that thought," Justin
replied as he kissed the top of Bree's head.
"Don't be late."
"I won't."
Brian stood up still holding Bree and
walked Justin to the front door where they met John and Bobby and Patrick.
Brian took Patrick's hand as the other men made their way out to their
vehicles. Brian waved Bree's hand as the cars started down the drive. Patrick
waved to his fathers.
"Well, guys, do you think we can get
through a whole day of being together without having another crisis?"
Patrick looked up at Brian.
"Sure," he said.
Brian smiled and looked at his daughter
for confirmation.
"Sur," she mimicked Patrick.
Brian kissed her cheek and they went back
inside to clean up the mess from breakfast. Brian was less worried about
looking after the kids on his own than he was about what might happen to Justin
in
*****
"Wow! This place looks huge without
the seats," Justin remarked to John as they went into the theater. The
scaffolding was up along the walls to get to the ornate cornices and moldings
and in the middle of the theater to reach the chandelier, which was coming down
piece by piece. "This is so amazing. How will you remember how to put it
all back together again?"
"We've taken pictures of how it
looked before we started removing it and we have a lighting specialist and
someone who specializes in antique crystal. Each piece is tagged, numbered and
catalogued," John said proudly.
"Wow! You've thought of everything.
This must be a very expensive undertaking."
"Under ordinary circumstances, I'd
agree with you but these aren't ordinary circumstances."
"What do you mean?" Justin
asked, very curious and wondering if Brian was going to be broke again. John
saw the look on Justin's face and chuckled.
"Don't worry, we're not sending my
brother to the poor house. Not yet, anyway. We have several contributors to the
restoration of this theater. First, many local businesses have donated to the
clinic and to the restoration of the entire street. They've recognized the
advantages of having this part of town cleaned up and contributing revenue to
the area. Secondly, we have the local historical society who discovered what
we're doing. They want to make this theater a stop on one of their tours. They
have suggested and introduced me to many artisans and experts in this type of
restoration. We've applied for government grants that will cover much of the
costs. And of course, we have the folks from PIFA. Many of the professors are
experts in their chosen field. This is like a dream come true for them. They've
donated their time and the students win because they can use the work they've
done as credit toward their degree. This is a win-win solution for many of
us." John beamed as he described the work and how it all was coming
together.
"But what do you want me for? I'm
certainly not as qualified as who you have here," Justin commented with a
small frown and a wave at all the people who were busy at their craft.
"Justin, I want you here for several
reasons. You have a creative eye which I appreciate. This really is my first attempt
at restoration on this massive scale. You speak the same language as many of
the artisans here so you can explain things to me. I've designed many buildings
but mostly with modern materials. We plan to take a step back in time and try
to match some of the original materials that were used in the construction of
this beautiful old girl, minus the hazardous materials. I know you know how to
mix paints like they used to and how to paint frescoes. Mould has gotten to many of the original frescoes and we may not be able to
restore them but we may be able to match them and paint new ones. And I'd like
to chronicle the progress in your sketches. Yes, I know we can take photographs
and we will but I'm an old fashioned draftsman. I understand hand drawn pictures
much better than a cold photo. Maybe I have a little of JAB Kinney in me too. I
used to go to the stream and doodle. I'm in no way as good as you but I love
the hands on detailed work."
Justin smiled warmly at his
brother-in-law. They were kindred spirits in art.
"May I wander around a bit? I have my
sketchpad, and I'm itching to use it." Justin's hand slipped into his
messenger bag to retrieve his pad and pencils.
"By all means. Just stay clear of the stage and any offending
scaffolding. Your husband will tan whatever's left of my hide if something else
happens to you."
Justin and John laughed softly but Justin
heeded John's warning. Justin wandered the building's interior for a while, found a quiet spot away from the 'traffic' and
scaffolding, sat and began to sketch.
*****
Back at the cottage, Brian was as tense as
a caged bear. The weather was damp and cloudy so he couldn't take the children
outside. He was worried about Justin, it was too early for lunch and
Snuffaluffagus wasn't cutting it. The kids were bored and Brian's patience was
wearing thin. Briana was preparing to test out the terrible twos even though
she was only eighteen months old. She always was a precocious little thing.
Brian and the kids were in the sun porch.
Brian attempted some work on his laptop, while the kids were drawing at their
own set of easels that Justin had set up for them. They each had their own set
of crayons and pads. Brian's mind was racing, trying to analyze and quell his
irrational fears for Justin's safety. Logically, he knew that Justin, a grown
man, was quite capable of taking care of himself. Logically, Brian knew that
John would look after him and logically, Brian was being an overly dramatic
drama queen. Logic be damned. Justin was miles away
from him; he missed Justin. Brian was scared for him. And that's all that Brian
cared about.
Bree, on the other hand, cared only that
she couldn't find the right blue crayon. Patrick was using said crayon and she
wanted it and now. Briana stomped her little feet over to Patrick's easel,
snatched the crayon out of her cousin's hand without asking, pushed him, then
stomped back to her own easel. Brian caught the whole exchange and was not
amused.
"Briana Victoria Taylor-Kinney!"
Brian bellowed in a voice that had never been used for his daughter, startling
both kids. "That was rude and impolite. You know better than that. Give
the crayon back to Patrick and ask nicely for it," Brian demanded of his
petite but willful child.
Bree stared at her Dada and at the crayon
but didn't move. Brian walked to her, and stared at the crayon in her tiny
hand. "You, Miss Briana, get a time out."
Brian scooped up his daughter,
removed the crayon clutched in her hand then took her to her room. Placing the
child in her crib, he set her straight on certain rules of acceptable behavior.
"You will stay here for five minutes, then you
will apologize to Patrick."
Noiselessly, tears began to stream down
her little face. Bree had an idea that what she did to her cousin was wrong but
it was the realization that her dada was upset with her that saddened her the
most. She sat in her crib as she watched her father leave her room and shut her
door.
Brian was very upset. This was the first
time he actually had to discipline his daughter and he had no idea if he had
done it right or was making a mountain out of a mole hill. He sat down on the
floor just outside her room. He could hear the little sniffles of Bree's cries
and he ached to rush back in to hug her. Instead, Brian stayed put on the floor
and stared at his watch. This was the longest five minutes of his life.
Patrick had witnessed many moods of his
uncle throughout his short life. He was unsure what to do and felt like crying.
Being a child of the technology age, Patrick was well versed at the fine art of
using a cell phone.
"Uncle Bri? Can I call my
daddy?" he asked softly of Brian who was also trying not to cry. Brian
pulled out his phone and hit number three on the speed dial.
"Sure, Sonny Boy,
here." Brian handed
the phone to Patrick who ambled to the living room to speak to his dad.
"Brian?" John answered.
"It's me, Daddy."
"Sonny Boy! Are you okay?"
"Yeah but..." Patrick tried to
explain what had just happened to his father but all that came out was that
Bree was crying in her room and Brian was sitting on the floor looking sad.
John got the gist of the time out situation.
"Don't worry, Sonny Boy. Just stay
quiet for Uncle Brian. It will be okay. I promise. Uncle Brian is just upset.
Everything will be okay. I'll try to come home early."
"Okay, Daddy."
"I love you, Sonny Boy."
"Wuv you." Patrick said then flipped the phone closed.
Patrick went back into the hall as Brian
stood counting down the seconds. Five minutes, no more no
less. At the appointed time, Brian gently rapped on Bree's door, opened it and
went in. Briana stood up, her face all snotty, looking like a glazed donut with
tear streaks. Brian took out a wet nap and cleaned her face.
"You wet?" Brian asked his
daughter. Briana shook her little head, no.
"We ask before we take something, you
understand?" Bree nodded. "And NO pushing." Bree looked down at
her little feet.
Brian lifted his contrite baby girl, gave her a hug and a kiss then cuddled with her in the
rocking chair where he had spent many a night with her for her nightly
feedings. Spying Patrick at the door, Brian beckoned his nephew in to sit on
his lap too. Brian's lap and the rocking chair were big enough for all of them.
When they settled, Briana reached out to pat her cousin's face by way of an
apology. Patrick smiled brightly. Bree then patted her daddy's lips, again in
an apology and for a kiss, which she immediately received. Brian relaxed, held
the children close and began to rock.
All was right in their world again.