"Well, Mr. Kinney, I'm very glad that you came all the way to New York to conclude our business."
Brian reached across the mahogany table to shake the other man's hand, stunning smile perfectly in place. "The pleasure was all mine, Mr. Fields. Now that you've signed with Kinnetik, I'm sure we'll be seeing more of each other."
"Please, call me Will." William Fields, owner of Shenanigan Clothes, tilted his head, shrewdly assessing Brian. "If your projections for our sales hold true, we'll be racking in the dough. I think you've earned a little gratitude from us."
"Your business is all the thank-you I require," said Brian. Was the man flirting with him? William Fields was handsome enough for a man in his fifties, and Brian had suspected his homosexuality when they first shook hands, but it had been a while since he satisfied his clients in such a manner. I may be over forty, but I haven't quite reached the point where I have to pander to gray-haired playboys.
"I understand you own a nightclub."
The smile never left his face, but Brian's eyes narrowed. What was this guy's angle? "That's correct. Babylon."
"I own a club of my own, in fact. It's located in Chelsea, called The Playroom."
Chelsea. Brian was too experienced to let his expression slip, but the hand resting on his knee clenched.
"Sounds interesting. If you're . . . um . . . inviting me, however, I'm afraid I have to beg off. It's been a long day."
"Oh, come now." William Fields leaned forward in his chair. "I'll buy you a drink. If dancing's not your thing, you're welcome to relax at the bar. The club is frequented by both gays and straights, so there's plenty of eye candy to go around." He winked, his smirk leaving no doubt he knew who Brian preferred. "I checked, and your flight isn't until tomorrow at noon, so you'll have plenty of time to sleep it off."
Damn it. "Well then, sounds like fun, Will. Shall I meet you there at say, nine?" And beat it out of there first chance I get.
"Perfect! Feel free to use the valet parking. I'll tell my people to expect you." They both rose and shook hands. "See you tonight, Brian."
As the elevator doors closed, Brian leaned his head against the wall, closing his eyes. Well, at least the chances of running into anyone I know are slim, since it caters to both gay and straight people. He rubbed his eyes tiredly, deliberately not thinking of the one person he wished to avoid. Next time there's an account in New York, I'm sending Ted to handle it.
The knock on the door sent Henrietta leaping off the sofa toward the stairs. Justin took one last look in the bathroom mirror and headed downstairs to the foyer, nudging the cat aside.
"Well, look at you," laughed Sam, stepping inside with Daphne. "I'm trying to remember the last time I saw you dressed up."
Justin blushed, closing the door. "I'm not dressed up! It's just a nice shirt and black jeans."
"Well, it's pretty hot," said Daphne, running her hand over the shirt's silky blue material. "Matches your eyes."
"Maybe he'll land a trick tonight." Sam peered into the mirror hanging by the stairs, checking her makeup. "A lay would do him good."
Justin rolled his eyes. "I'm not looking for a date when I'm already bringing two women with me." He led them upstairs to the living room.
"That's right," said Sam. "The guys might think you're hetero."
"The club's attended by gays and straights," said Justin. "I wouldn't drag you to a gay place when you're not gay."
"Damn," muttered Daphne. "And here I wanted to ogle guys I knew wouldn't be hitting on me."
"We going to The Playroom, Justina?" Sam scratched Henrietta behind the ears. "Heya, cutie. Been watching over Justin for me?"
"Well, I know how much you love that place," said Justin. "Figured Daphne would like it as well." He moved over to the coffee table and handed Daphne a paper. "By the way, Daph, I'll be in the Pitts in three weeks. The Pittsburgh Institute of Fine Arts is holding an exhibit by yours truly. They just confirmed the date today."
"Really?" Daphne skimmed the letter, grinning. "That's fantastic! You haven't been home in forever." Suddenly, she frowned, looking up. "Wait a minute. PIFA? You're going to let them host a show of your work after what they did to you?"
Justin smirked, taking back the letter. "Of course! What better way to slap them in the face then to exhibit my art at the very place I was expelled? I'll make sure to mention how devastated I was to take my art elsewhere."
"And all because they didn't support freedom of expression." Daphne laughed. "Devious, Justin!"
Samantha wrapped an arm around Justin's shoulders. "That's our Justin! Always sticking it up someone's ass." At their collective groan, she grinned. "Let's go party, peeps!"
The Playroom resembled Babylon in all its glory: glittering strobe lights, pulsing bass, sweaty bodies gyrating against each other in barely concealed lust. The sight of long hair and breasts spilling from their bras provided a different spectacle than what Brian usually saw, however. Here, gay couples mingled with straight ones and neither seemed to care who rubbed against who. It was Tops Off night, where the removal of your shirt earned you a discount on drinks. Even the women participated, baring their designer brassieres for the world to admire.
Breasts held little interest for Brian, but he always enjoyed viewing well-toned pecs. He leaned over the balcony railing where he stood next to William Fields, both of them holding shots of Jack Daniels. If Brian had held any doubts as to Will's intentions, they had long since disappeared. The man had brushed up against his side enough times to wear a hole in Brian's sleeve. The more Will drank, the more his ingratiating smile morphed into a leer.
"Buy you another?" He leaned backward over the balcony wall, trying to catch Brian's wandering eye. At some point, he had unbuttoned his shirt to the waist, exposing a muscled chest worthy of a man ten years younger.
"If you don't mind, I'd like to have a look around," said Brian. He offered Will a friendly smirk, meant to pacify without encouraging more attention.
"Of course. Take your time. Drinks are on me." If Will was angry at Brian's retreat, he hid it well. With a lascivious wink, Will turned back to the bar behind them to speak with the bartender.
Brian wandered downstairs, losing himself in the dancing crowd. This was his place, his element. The beat of the music was the pulse of his blood, and he closed his eyes, giving into the rhythm. Raising his arms, he swayed his hips, giving his entire body to the song. When he opened his eyes again, more than a few men had surrounded him, close enough to touch but still giving him a respectful distance. He returned their lazy smiles and with a simple gesture, invited them into his space.
Skin caressed skin in teasing, feathery touches. Brian felt fingers unbuttoning his shirt while other hands behind him whisked it away. Bodies moved closer, eyes burning with lust. Brian wondered vaguely if The Playroom had a back room like Babylon's and was tempted to ask one of the delectable gentlemen grinding their erections against his hip. He had not engaged in a sexual act in a public place for at least three years, but what the hell. Maybe the time had come to treat himself, and unlike Pittsburgh, he did not know anyone here.
He scanned the edges of the dance floor, searching for a back hall or restroom entrance while a twenty-something brunette hooked his fingers in the loops of Brian's jeans. Pulling Brian toward him, he pressed his substantial erection along Brian's and swirled his hips. Brian started to turn his head and bestow his attention on the eager young man, when he spotted a head of blond hair above a pert nose he knew far too well. There would never be any mistaking that face or that body, regardless of time's passing.
Everything stopped except for the persistent beat of the music. Every muscle froze except the beat of Brian's heart, relentlessly following the pounding bass around him.
Thump.
Blue eyes fasten securely on him, following his lead as they twirl around the gym, past a sea of blurred faces. He almost trembles at the trust in such simple movements, first steps taken together into the unknown.
Thump.
Legs spattered with a fine down of pale hair wrap tightly about his waist. His lips hover over the arched neck below him, his tongue tracing the path of a single bead of sweat to the hollow at the base. Fingers tangle in his hair, yanking sharply as hips jerk up to meet his every thrust.
Thump.
The boy keeps his head lowered, shoulders hunched, and eyes darting from side to side as people pass. Then he glances up, sees Brian with arms outstretched, and he smiles. The smile lights his whole face and lifts his chin as he defiantly closes the last few feet into the waiting embrace.
Thump.
He turns one last time, one last look. His entire stance asks a single question, a question Brian is not ready to answer, may never be ready. He would give this kid the world if he could, but he cannot give something that does not exist. The boy turns away, taking the hand of another, passing from light into the dark. He does not see the life bleeding from Brian, from the wound he left behind.
Thump.
Those beautiful lips are twisted with fury, and the boy lashes out, shoving him backward. He does not know which is worse, the pain in his groin or the pain in those sky-blue eyes. Curses rain around his head, and he bows beneath their weight, defeated by his own blindness. The boy is so strong, much stronger than Brian will ever be. He leans on that strength, makes it his own, and the fear ebbs away with the tide . . . the cancer beaten by the work of two hearts, instead of one.
Thump.
Coming down from orgasm is always a sad journey, a fall from the highest high back down to the mundane. This time is worse, because tears await them both, and he brushes them away with as much determination as sorrow. As long as they both believe, this does not have to be the end. As long as he holds on, arms and legs wrapped securely around his lover's body, it cannot be over. Nevertheless, reality has ever cheated him. When he wakens, his body is cold, and he is alone.
It was this memory, this final one that snapped him out of his lapse in time. He still felt the other bodies pressed close, but they were nothing but empty husks. The only one in this room who mattered had not yet seen him, and therefore, it was not too late.
Time to go.
He grabbed his shirt from one of his companions and offered an apologetic smile. The man lifted an eyebrow, shrugged, and then turned away. Without bothering to don the shirt, Brain pushed his way through the throng, his eyes fastened on the entrance. He did not look back, did not want to take the risk of finding familiar eyes staring at him.
He almost made it too, but William Fields had other plans.
"Brian! Leaving so soon? I was hoping we could share one more drink in my office before you left . . . ."
Sam wasted no time removing her shirt, revealing a Victoria's Secret scarlet bra. Justin just laughed; he had come here often with Sam when they lived together and knew she had few inhibitions when it came to getting more drinks. Daphne, on the other hand, stood in open-mouthed shock.
"Sam! Are you crazy?"
Sam winked. "Honey, why should the men get to bare their chests and not us? Fifty-cent drinks!" Tying her shirt around her waist, she sauntered over to the bar, swaying her hips seductively beneath her black miniskirt.
Daphne shook her head and turned to Justin. "Well, are you going to toss your shirt, too?"
"Maybe later."
It Began in Afrika started to play over the speakers, and Justin grabbed Daphne's hand.
"Remember this one? Let's dance!"
Justin guided her out to the floor, making space among the writhing bodies. Grinning at each other, they began to dance, bouncing to the hypnotic beat.
"God, I remember this song!" yelled Daphne over the music. "Know what it reminds me of?"
"Babylon!" Justin shouted. He closed his eyes, letting his head fall back as he lost himself in the rhythm. For a moment, he was transported to another time, another place where lights flashed and swirled. He had been so young then, so naive, but he missed that innocence. Life had been so full of possibilities back then.
Smiling at the memory, he opened his eyes, reaching out to catch Daphne's hand, but stopped when he saw she was not moving. She stared through the crowd, her face frozen in shock, and he figured Sam must be up to her usual antics.
"What now?"
He followed her line of sight, expecting to see Samantha grinding with several guys, as she often did, but Sam was nowhere in sight. Instead, two men were standing near the door, deep in conversation. Justin did not recognize the well-dressed older man, but the shirtless one drew his eye immediately.
"Brian," he whispered.
It was impossible. It was wrong. New York was his place, free from any memory of Brian, who had never visited here. He had risen from the ashes of their broken relationship to build a new life here, far from Pittsburgh.
There could be no denying who it was, however. Even after eleven years, Brian Kinney carried a presence practically oozing self-confidence and sex. His muscles were still well toned, his skin tan and healthy. His jeans clung tightly, promising an equally built ass. Justin noticed many an eye, both male and female, fixed on Brian.
He suddenly became aware of Daphne regarding him, frowning with concern.
"Justin?" She glanced toward Brian. "Are you okay?"
He breathed deep, filling his lungs and mind with fresh air. Everything clicked hard into place, and he knew exactly what he wanted to do.
"Here." He unbuttoned his shirt and handed it to her.
"Justin, what are you doing?" She clutched it to her chest as if she could hold him in place, as well.
"Getting some closure," he replied.
He squeezed her shoulder, offering a tight smile in reassurance. Only Daphne could possibly know the depths of what Justin had gone through in his five years with Brian. He understood her worry, but he needed to do this.
Keeping his eyes fixed on the two men, he began slowly dancing his way across the room, shimmying his hips and brushing suggestively against the men he passed. Appreciative eyes turned his way, admiring his physique, but he spared none of them a glance.
The older man was clearly trying to coax Brian to the dance floor, but Brian kept pulling away, shaking his head. Justin managed to approach from behind Brian, continuing to sway while listening to the conversation grow louder as Brian protested to his companion.
"I really do need to be going, Will. Maybe I can take a rain check for next time?"
"Ah, Brian, come upstairs to my private lounge. Just for a little while. I promise you a good time." Will brushed a palm over Brian's bare chest, trailing his fingers over the nipples.
"Not this time. I'm not feeling very well."
Just then, Will's eyes flicked to Justin a few feet behind Brian. "Well now, what have we here? Perhaps, if I include this sexy young thing, you might be interested?"
Brian turned slowly, his jaw set, as if he knew what was waiting for him. Justin had only a moment to wonder if Brian had already seen him, and then they were face to face for the first time in over a decade.
New lines lurked in the corners of Brian's eyes, but they were still the color of caramel, sweet and soft. His full lips crooked in a familiar self-mocking smile, the one he wore when he knew he had disappointed someone . . . as if disappointment even approached the cliff's edge he thrown Justin over.
Justin went very still, hands balled into fists to keep himself under control. Will was scrutinizing him over Brian's shoulder, but his presence was insignificant.
"Hi." Brian's voice was so soft, the music nearly drowned it.
God, but he wanted to touch! Justin had been so confident of his self-control, but now he was standing here only a breath away from the man he had loved with everything he had. Brian's nearness threatened to tear him apart, and he could not allow that to happen. He had passed through that fire already, leaving only ice.
"Fuck. You."
Well, it was not an epiphany, but it got the point across. Justin felt a sliver of satisfaction as a shadow passed over Brian's frozen smile. Turning on his heel, he walked away, letting his ass finish the message, even as his heart shriveled. Revenge never felt as good as people said.
Daphne was waiting for him, Sam at her side holding a beer. He plastered a grin on his face to hide the poison boiling under his skin.
"Thanks for holding my shirt." Daphne handed it over wordlessly, too tactful to comment.
Sam, however, had never had a delicate mouth. "What the hell was that? Daphne said that gorgeous guy you were talking to is the legendary Brian of yore."
Justin had forgotten that Samantha had never met Brian, even though Justin had told her all about his lover in Pittsburgh when he first came to New York.
"That was me giving him the goodbye I should have given him eleven years ago," he said.
Buttoning his shirt, he glanced back to see the results of his "closure", but Brian was gone, and the older gentleman was climbing the stairs to the second floor balcony.
"Good riddance," muttered Daphne.
Justin wrapped his arm around her shoulders, grateful for the loyalty and friendship she had given him over the years. Not everything from Pittsburgh left a bad taste in his mouth.
"Let's dance."
Sam set down her beer and the three friends joined hands, walking out on the dance floor. Together, they partied the night away, laughing and retelling old stories. By the time they left, drunk and loose-limbed with exhaustion, Justin had managed to forget the shards of love lying strewn across the floor.
Thanks for all the favs and reviews! Special thanks go to my beta, Zevgirl, for taking the time to edit this for me :)