CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

JUSTIN

It's so cool that Boot's here. I can't believe he's given up his job and his apartment in New York to come to the Pitts … although I know he doesn't like to stay in the same place for too long, and I guess Brian made him a good offer to work at Babylon. I'm not surprised about that – Brian's brilliant when it comes to spotting the right person for a job, and Boot's the best doorman I've ever seen. Just his presence is usually enough to stop trouble, and if by some chance it isn't, then he's more than capable of taking care of it!

Anyway, he's here and it's great! When he pushes my wheelchair he doesn't even break into a sweat, although I guess it can't be comfortable for him because he has to stoop so much. I've told him I'm perfectly capable of wheeling myself, but he won't listen; he says it'll put too much strain on my ribs, and Brian of course agrees with him. Great. Now I've got two nursemaids worrying about me.

It's weird, but I feel happy for the first time since Mom died … well, not happy, I can't be that yet … more like comfortable; and it's really down to Boot being here. He's exactly how I imagine a favourite uncle would be: big, strong and dependable. I think the main reason I feel so easy around him is because, unlike every other male friend I have, he's actually straight. I get hit on by so many men, and I never really know whether they like me as a person or if they're just trying to get into my pants. It's a refreshing change to be around someone who definitely isn't.

I'm glad he and Brian seem to have hit it off … they're so alike in many ways it's really quite freaky. I was afraid they might not be able to stand each other; after all, Boot is as outspoken and opinionated as Brian – he's just not quite so acerbic in the way he expresses it. But Brian seems quietly impressed by Boot, which is a pretty amazing phenomenon in itself. Boot makes him laugh, for one thing; genuinely laugh, not in the usual you're so pathetic it's ridiculous way. And Brian talks to him with what sounds like respect, as though Boot's an equal; not with the condescension he all too-often uses, even to his friends.

So when Boot pushes me into the Diner while Brian holds the door open for us, everybody's head swivels. Kiki's the first to recognise me; she stands with her mouth hanging open for a moment, her tray of orders forgotten, before dashing back to the kitchen, and then I'm surrounded by a gaggle of people all pushing and asking questions.

"Baby!" I hear Emmett squeal, as he pushes his way through the throng. "Oh my Lord, what have you been doing to yourself?"

He flings his arms out to hug me, when Boot steps in his way. "Watch it," he growls.

Emmett looks up at him and squawks. He starts back-pedalling as fast as he arrived. "It's him!" he gasps, clutching his throat dramatically. "Someone call the cops!"

"Relax, Lucy," Brian smirks. "I won't let him eat you."

I'm about to explain who Boot is when I hear a shriek of "Sunshine!" that's partly joy, partly horror; and I know Debbie's arrived.

She stands in front of me, her hands clapped to her face. "Jesus fucking Christ, what happened? Honey, are you alright?"

"Of course he's not alright," Brian answers. "That's a cast he's wearing, not Gucci loafers." He cocks his head and smirks again. "His leg is broken, as you can see. He also has three broken ribs and more bruises than an over-ripe banana, but then you can't expect anything else if you get in an argument with a car."

"A fucking car? When? How? And why wasn't I told?" she demands, rounding on him.

"It happened in New York; and I didn't tell you because Justin and I had a few issues to work out, and we needed to do it alone," Brian tells her. "We didn't want a lot of well-meaning family coming round and muddying the waters. Anyway, we're telling you now."

"So who the fuck's taking care of him? Is he staying with you?"

"No, he's living with me."

Deb plants her fists on her hips. "He is, huh? And what, may I ask, has happened to Dan?"

I can almost hear Brian's teeth grinding. "Dan is gone," he replies tersely.

Deb studies him. "Uh-huh. Glad to hear you've finally come to your senses. But that doesn't change the fact that this boy needs someone responsible to look after him, and I don't think …"

"Hello, I have a broken leg, I'm not deaf!" I protest. "You can speak to me, you know."

"Sunshine, I just want to make sure that you get the best care. I owe it to your poor mother, God bless her …"

"Deb, Brian's more than capable of looking after me," I interrupt firmly. "He's taken some time off work, and once my ribs heal I'll be able to get around a lot easier. In any case, I'm staying with him; the Loft's my home now."

Deb's eyes flick from me to Brian and back again. Eventually she nods. "Okay, boys." She wags a scarlet nail at us. "But I'll make sure to bring round a regular supply of comfrey tea for you, Sunshine."

"My old mum swears by it," Boot confirms. "She made me drink it all the time when I broke me arm when I was a nipper. Said there was nothing like it for making bones knit quickly." He frowns. "Tasted like old socks, mind."

Deb looks up at him, noticing him for the first time. "Well, you're a big bastard, aren't you?" she says.

"Debbie, this is Boot," Brian performs the introductions. "Boot, this is Debbie Novotny, our surrogate mother. Sort of."

"Boot? What the fuck kind of name is that for a human being?" Deb asks, snapping her gum.

Boot takes her hand and shakes it gently. "It's what I've been called for as long as I can remember. I'm pleased to meet you, ."

Deb stares for a moment, taken aback: then she smiles. "I always heard you British had nice manners. I'm pleased to make your acquaintance, too. And I'm plain Debbie."

"Debbie," Boot agrees, nodding.

"Boot is my new employee," Brian explains. "And since he and Justin were friends in New York, he's kindly volunteered to help out when I'm not around. So there's no need to get your tits in a twist, Ma."

Debbie snorts. "I've been doing that ever since Michael first brought you home. Can't see it changing any time soon." She pulls her pen from behind her ear and wiggles it over her pad. "So did you boys come in here to eat, or just to irritate me?"

"Both," Brian grins. "But mainly to introduce Boot to the culinary delights of Liberty Avenue. So I'll have the usual, and I'm sure Sunshine here will be pleased to eat whatever you see fit to give him."

"Damn right he will," Deb says. "We'll get some meat back on your bones in no time, baby."

I try to look enthusiastic about the prospect.

Debbie turns to Boot. "What about you, big guy?"

"Don't suppose you do Bubble and Squeak?" Boot asks hopefully.

Debbie stares at him. "What the fuck is Bubble and Squeak?"

"Never mind," he sighs. "Could I have a double cheeseburger with fries and a fresh orange juice?"

"Coming right up," Deb smiles. She hurries off to place our orders.

Boot wheels me over to one of the window booths and positions my wheelchair so that I'm sitting at the end of the table with my cast stretched out down the gap between the table and the right-hand bench. Brian takes the left-hand seat while Boot spreads himself in the next booth, where Emmett's trying to hide behind a menu.

"Bubble and Squeak? Is that another Cockney thing?" Brian enquires.

"It's an English thing," Boot replies wistfully. "One of the things I really miss … like a proper cup of tea, and Yorkshire Pudding. And fish and chips, and bangers."

"We have tea, and Yorkshire Pudding, and fish and chips," I point out.

"Yeah, but they don't taste the same," Boot says glumly.

"What are bangers, anyway?"

"Sausages."

"We have those, too."

"The things you call sausages don't count. Bloody hot dogs. I mean proper sausages … pork … beef … Cumberland. There was a deli in New York used to get them in special for me." Boot sighs reminiscently.

"Well, Pittsburgh also has some very good deli's," Brian tells him. "I'm sure they'd be delighted to supply you with … bangers, too."

Boot perks up immediately. "Then I'll treat you to a proper English breakfast … eggs, bacon, Bubble and Squeak, fried bread. The whole works."

I glance over at Em, who's still trying to be as inconspicuous as possible; which, given his outfit, is asking a lot. "What about it, Em? You up for a Boot Special breakfast?"

"Um, yes. I'm sure that would be divine," he replies shakily, sinking even lower in his seat.

"Honeycutt, come out from behind that fucking menu," Brian orders. "Boot won't hurt you."

Emmett peers nervously round the edge. "Did I hear you correctly, that he's working for you now?"

"Yep. He's going to join security at Babylon."

"Oh. How wonderful." Emmett looks a little green.

I hate the way everyone reacts to Boot. I know it's all part of the way he likes to come across, but still, it's so unfair. And I especially don't want Em feeling uncomfortable around him. "Boot, this is Emmett Honeycutt. He's one of my very best and very oldest friends."

Boot shifts round in his seat and extends his hand. "Then I'm pleased to be introduced properly this time," he says.

Emmett reaches out gingerly, and gives a little gasp as Boot shakes hands with him. "Likewise, I'm sure," he replies, massaging his fingers.

Boot laughs. "I'm sorry if I gave you the wrong impression the other day. I just wanted to find Justin urgently, so I apologise if I was a little abrupt."

"Oh?" Brian leans forward. "So you were the one who gave him my address? Honeycutt, I'm ashamed of you. Where's your sense of gay solidarity?"

"I … um … he took me by surprise," Emmett explains. "I wasn't expecting to meet someone so … imposing. Not on Liberty Avenue, anyway. And after all, I did call to let you know he was coming," he adds lamely.

We all laugh. "It's okay, Em," I reassure him. "Boot's a good friend, too."

"Oh. Oh, well that's good. Isn't that good? Because any friend of Justin's is a friend of mine. Usually," Emmett stammers.

He's saved from any further embarrassment by Debbie bringing our food, and I stare helplessly at the plate of meatloaf, creamed potatoes, carrots and peas she plonks in front of me. "And I expect you to eat all of it," she tells me. "You need a good balanced diet right now, with plenty of vegetables. For vitamin C, right?"

I think about pointing out that any vitamin C content has probably been boiled right the fuck out, but the expression on her face makes me think better of it.

She sits down next to Brian. "And what the fuck is going on with Mel and Linds? Michael asked if it would be okay for Carl and me to put Mel and the baby up for a few days and of course I said yes; like I'm gonna say no to spending some time with my grand-daughter, right? But if World War Three's gonna bust out I'd kind of like to be prepared."

Brian takes a bite of his turkey sandwich. "It's all going to be sorted out, Deb. Seems like there's been a huge misunderstanding on everyone's part. That's why Mel's coming. And, Deb … if Linds should happen to get in touch, don't tell her about Mel being in Pittsburgh. It's going to be a surprise."

She eyes him suspiciously. "Just what the fuck are you up to, kiddo?"

"Patience, Mama-San, patience. All will be revealed," he says in his Inscrutable Oriental voice.

"Well, I hope to God you know what you're doing, because it's about time those two got their act together. Families shouldn't be split up like this. It's not good for the kids."

Brian's reply is cut short by a yell from the other side of the Diner. "What the fuck do we have to do to get served around here? We've been sitting here for half an hour while you're fucking chatting!"

Everyone turns to look at the guy who's sitting with a couple of other men, each of them wearing pissed expressions and glaring at our table. Debbie opens her mouth to blow them off, but Boot's already on his feet and striding across the Diner. The guy who shouted suddenly looks a lot less sure of himself.

Boot leans his hands on the table and looms over him. "You shouldn't talk to a lady that way," he says severely. "Didn't your mother teach you any manners?"

One of the others laughs. "Yeah, only her manners are worse than his!"

"Then I suppose you have an excuse," Boot tells him evenly. "But I still think it would be a good idea to apologise, don't you?"

The guy shuffles uncomfortably. "Sorry," he mumbles.

Boot shakes his head. "Not to me, my son. To Mrs. Novotny over there."

The guy looks over at her. "Sorry, Mrs. Novotny," he offers sheepishly.

Boot smiles approvingly. "Much better. And I expect if you just sit quietly and behave yourselves, your meal will be along in a few minutes. Cheers, lads."

He comes back over and sits down to resume his lunch, and Deb turns to him with a huge grin. "My fucking hero!" she proclaims. "That burger's on the house, big guy!"

"My goodness," Em puts in. "Are you always so forceful, Mr. Boot?"

Boot lifts an eyebrow. "That wasn't forceful. That was a polite suggestion. It's surprising how often it works." He smiles. "And me name's just Boot, unless you want me to call you Mr. Honeycutt."

"Oh, no. I'm only Emmett," Em flutters. "Nobody calls me Mr. Honeycutt, not even my proctologist."

"And you don't even want to know what one of those is," Brian grins.

Walking back to the Loft, Brian says; "Well, I hope that little taste of our friends hasn't made you think twice about moving here, Boot. Deb and Emmett are definitely the most colourful, but the rest of the gang's pretty bizarre too. They take a bit of getting used to. But I guess on the whole they're okay."

"Family, guv," Boot replies, shrugging. "Got one of me own. I know what they're like, believe me."

TBC