Chapter 4 - Like a phone Call

It was 8:30 in the morning; my cell rang. It was Justin.

"Hey."

"Hey, how are you?"

"Fine thanks, and you?" His voice was hoarse, like he'd been crying.

"You don't seem fine."

"Yeah, well you know, the flu I caught is still hanging on and I'm having some trouble getting over it. But it's nothing that I can't manage."

"Of course."

"Hey, I saw we have a pretty intruder in our home." He must be really tired. Even though he knows that I love him, he never referred to the loft as our home.

"Oh yeah, she fell asleep last night after the movie. And I didn't want to wake her, so she spent the night with me." I replied with my tongue in cheek smile.

"What?"

"Should I repeat?"

"No, no I heard you. Loud and clear. Daph spent the night at our home."

"Mmh. Mmh, so what's up?"

"Just calling to say that I'm fine, busy, and still alive." He really sounded exhausted and annoyed. "I don't have a lot of time, I'm in a hurry. I have to get to the gallery because the owner, Conrad, wants to meet with me in an hour. Seems he doesn't like my last three paintings."

"Oh." That's great Kinney, nothing more than "Oh!" How could it be possible that this Conroy, Conrad, whatever the fuck his name was didn't like 3 of his paintings? That's practically impossible. God, that must be really hard for him. I heard his little voice. (Note from Philflam: I don't think Brian's response was wrong or that he "reacted like an asshole". Not sure what else he would say to Justin's comment. And what is Justin's "little voice"? The one he used when he got back from Vermont? I'm not sure what that means. Do you mean "sad"?

"Yeah, it seems he didn't like the colors. Or the theme. I need to check that today."

"You know, I'm pretty sure the paintings are amazing, even if the gallery owner doesn't like them. In fact, if you need someone to buy them, don't forget you have a personal buyer." I put all the pride and the confidence I have for him in my voice. But I know it's not enough. I know right now if I were near him, I would pull him in to my arms and tell him that everything will be fine.

"Yeah you could be right. And I don't need your help with the paintings. Thanks for offering though. Well, I just wanted to let you know that I'm fine, and that I will probably be really late this evening." Like usual, I thought.

"Ok, well, then …"

"Brian…"

"Yeah?"

"Miss you."

"I know, love you." I'm not even sure he heard the last thing I told him because suddenly I heard the click from the end of our conversation.

OK, I was really worried about him. Daphne was right, he must be in a very bad mood, and must be really exhausted. I had never heard his voice sound so defeated and unhappy.

Shit, why now, why him?