It Was Only Time
Chapter 37 – Closure
Brian & Justin...
The opening at the Royce gallery was Justin's first important solo show outside of New York City. His art has been shown in galleries in other cities before over the last two years, in Los Angeles, Boston and Austin, Texas, of all places, but as part of much larger exhibitions that featured several artists. He didn't attend the two art shows in California where a few of his paintings were displayed and sold – he has had enough of L.A. to last him a lifetime after his previous experience in Hollywood. He did, however, go to the Boston and the Austin shows, just because he has always wanted to visit those cities. He liked Boston well enough, but he absolutely fell in love with Austin – it's surprisingly liberal atmosphere, the incredibly rich indie music and art scenes, it's nightlife, it's food and it's people, the majority of whom seemed to be around his own age. Justin decided that if not for the oppressive Texas heat, which was almost unbearable, and his surprisingly ordered life in New York, he'd move there in a heartbeat. All those shows were small enough that he didn't feel it necessary to invite any of his friends and family, even though they knew about them being held. This gallery opening in Chicago, however, was pretty major. Therefore, he was rather sad that for the first time none of his family or friends from either Pittsburgh, Toronto or New York could attend the event.
Justin was washing the dust off his hands in the bathroom of the Royce Gallery thirty minutes before the opening of the exhibit when in a moment of insecurity he suddenly wasn't sure how he was going to handle Brian being there and momentarily wished that someone familiar was with him there as a buffer. He placed his hands on the cold lip of the sink and leaned forward towards the mirror, scrutinizing his face. "You are not a little girl, nor are you a kid anymore," He said out loud to his reflection "This is not Liberty avenue or Kinnetik, or the loft...this is an art gallery - your turf after all. Man up, Taylor, you can deal with Brian Kinney. Besides, he may not even show up." The little pep-talk helped bolster his spirits and his confidence level, and Justin walked out onto the gallery floor feeling a lot better, more like himself again.
The bustle of activity of the previous hour considerably subsided and everyone present was anxiously awaiting the opening of the gallery doors. Suddenly, out of nowhere, May appeared by his side and enthusiastically shook his hand.
"Hello, Justin. I am so excited about the show – I just know it'll be a huge success! I can pretty much guarantee that my parents will buy at least one of your paintings."
"Thank you, May. I'm very flattered and surprised that your parents like my work. Your mother especially, she seems more of the old-fashioned sort." His face flushed in embarrassment, "I didn't mean that in the way it sounded..."
May laughed in response "Oh, don't worry. Mother does give off the vague air of a conservative, stuck-up WASP, but she really isn't. What she is, is impossibly, frustratingly, maddeningly shy with everyone she first meets. It takes at least a couple of meetings with someone new for her to feel truly comfortable and act like her usual self. My brother is just like that. I don't know how in the world my parents managed to produce someone like me. When I was about 13 I was convinced that I was adopted, but alas, they really are my family." Justin couldn't help but laugh at May's candid description.
"You really thought you were adopted? You aren't joking?"
"No, I'm not. My parents had to actually show me my birth certificate and dig up copies of hospital records in order to convince me that I was, in fact, their daughter. What can I say, I was 13, emotional and overly melodramatic. "
The "overly melodramatic" comment sent Justin into a fresh bout of uncontrollable laughter. He's known May for less than 48 hours, and yet, he was absolutely convinced that there is no possible way this woman could have been any more dramatic or theatrical.
That's how Brian found them a few minutes later – May looking almost indulgently at Justin, telling him some funny story, while he was doubled over, red in the face and laughing. Brian hasn't seen Justin laugh like that in years and the image went straight to his heart.
"What's so funny?" he said, coming up to the pair. "Please tell me, 'cause I could do with a laugh."
"Hello, Brian!" May said, sending him a dazzling smile. "Glad you could make it. Tough day?"
"You could say that." Brian replied vaguely, looking at Justin who was suddenly upright, the laughter gone from his face and surprise clearly written all over it.
"Brian, what are you doing here? You aren't technically supposed to be here until after the doors open in 20 minutes."
"Well, Sunshine, I lied." He replied in a matter-of-fact way of his, looking straight into Justins' eyes. "I told the people judiciously guarding the back door that I am here with May, as a representative of her foundation. I was convincing enough that they let me in without so much as a "what for". Sorry, May," he added, still not taking his hazel eyes off of Justins' blue ones. "I hope you don't mind, but since we'll be working on a specially discounted ad campaign for your non-profit soon, I thought it only fair."
"Oh, my God!" she squealed and astonished Brian with a bone-crushing hug, breaking his eye contact with Justin. "My director will just die, but he won't be able to say no to this, the old dinosaur! The man has one original idea a year, yet he still runs an arts foundation. God, I can't wait until that unimaginative bastard retires!"
Brian and Justin laughed together at her unexpected tirade. Not wanting this moment to end, Brian continued: "Why, May! Do I detect a note of...oh, I don't know...bloodthirsty ill will towards one's boss?"
"Well," May, blushing profusely, tried to defend herself, "he is a lovely man and is a good boss, as bosses go, but the man is almost 80 years old! He's been at the helm of the foundation for close to thirty years, pretty much since its inception. It is a good thing in many ways, but, by God, he still sometimes does things the way they did them back in the 80's and it's extremely frustrating. He's been saying that he'll retire every year for the past five, but at the last minute he changes his mind. One of these days he'll actually do it and we'll be able to finally move into the 21st century."
"Knowing Brian and the kind of work Kinnetik does, your foundation will get a thoroughly modern, kick-ass campaign that will inspire your boss to either move with the times or retire and let the young people take lead."
"Justin, that was quite the testimony!" May exclaimed. Brian, utterly surprised, agreed "Yes, it was..."
Justin looked at their expectant faces, but decided not to elaborate. He just shrugged, "It's the truth. Anyway," eager to change the subject, he continued, "I am kind of surprised that you are here early, Brian."
Brian chuckled, "I am usually fashionably late, I know. But it's been one of those days, you know, where things haven't been going my way, so I thought I'd try to end it on a good note." He said meaningfully, looking straight at into Justin's eyes again. At that moment, May realized that she just became superfluous to this conversation and discreetly moved away; neither Justin nor Brian noticed.
"Plus," Brian continued, "its been awhile since I've seen your work. I was, well, I am extremely curious about your new pieces. I thought I'd come early, beat the crowds."
"Well, I don't know about crowds..." Justin replied, nervous again, all of a sudden. "You are welcome to take a look, browse around. You have about ten minutes before those "crowds" of yours descend."
"Uhm, Sunshine? They are not my fucking crowds, they are yours and rightfully so. I hear you are quite the hot commodity in the art world. So, stop using air quotes and being a nervous drama queen. You deserve your success. So, try to enjoy it, before you give me indigestion, OK!" Justin looked at Brian and laughed.
"There's nothing like a Brian Kinney pep-talk – it's like a slap in the face and the best compliment rolled into one! I actually needed that, Brian, thank you. I don't know why, but I am always so fucking nervous at my gallery openings. It doesn't matter whether they are small or big...Actually, I was pretty calm before my very first show at Loring, but that's because the entire damn family was there. They kept me relatively sane..."
"That was the "Ghost" show, wasn't it?" Brian interrupted.
"Yes. Arthur insisted on titling it, so it became "Ghosts, Devils and Angels". Wait, how did you...I mean you rem...how...why...wait..." Justin stuttered.
"How did I know? You sent me an invitation. And, yes, I remember. As to how – there are many reasons for that, which I don't care to get into at the moment. As to why...I was there. Anyway, they are about to open the doors and I really want to see your work without interference for at least a couple of minutes. Later, Justin." Then, with a slight smirk, Brian sauntered to the other side of the room where May was animatedly talking to the owner. He felt that he finally scored a point with Justin, ever since he saw him at the Browns' again the night before.
"Later..." Justin replied absentmindedly, looking at Brian's retreating back in astonishment. He was riveted to that same spot on the gallery floor, unable to move or to think past Brian's latest revelation. His first thought was "He said "later"! Oh. My. God. He said "later"!". His second thought was "He was there?". Then he was assaulted by a veritable storm of questions, all swirling around the same subject of Brian being at his first solo show "How? I know for a fact he wasn't there or was he? When? Why didn't I see him? Why didn't he talk to me? He was there? Why?".
His inner monologue was interrupted when the gallery doors opened a few minutes later and the curator responsible for the show actually had to shake him "awake" out of his stupor. For the next hour, Justin was busy meeting and greeting guests, shaking a lot of hands and talking about his work. He was constantly aware of Brian being in the same space as him, but frustratingly, always on the other side of the room, his back turned towards him, looking at one of his paintings. He hasn't left yet, so Justin was pretty sure Brian wasn't bored. But his lack of actual response to his work was driving Justin slowly mad. "I shouldn't care what he thinks! I haven't in three fucking years, why do I suddenly care now?" He silently berated himself. "Maybe I'll ask May, I bet she'll find out what he thinks easy enough...Fuck me! What am I, in the third grade? What's next, I'll ask her to pass him a note in study hall? God, I'm pathetic!" Justin scowled at those thoughts, not realizing that his thunderous expression actually scared a couple of patrons who were on their way to talk to him. They decided to give him a wide berth and check out some paintings on the other side of the gallery. May, who saw the entire thing, was instantly at his side.
"Justin, are you OK? You seem upset, though you shouldn't be – your show is going very, very well."
"I'm fine, May, why do you ask?" Justin looked at her in surprise.
"For a moment there you looked angry enough to chew steel. You actually scared a couple of people to flee for their lives. OK, I exaggerate, but not by much." She laid her hand on his forearm and squeezed it in reassurance. "If you want to talk, I'm here for you, even though we don't know each other very well."
"I'm fine, May, really. I promise. I am just being unnecessarily nervous and overly melodramatic." He said with a smile, remembering her phrase from earlier in the evening. She laughed in response.
"Oh, by the way, my parents are here. They are the ones arriving late, for a change. They are talking to Brian at the moment, but they'd like to talk to you as well sometime tonight. You don't mind, do you?"
"Not at all. I promise I won't scare them away and talk to them with an actual smile on my face, like a normal human being."
"Good. Now, why don't we go get a drink? You and I both need a glass of...something. What I wouldn't give for a shot of Patron!" She sighed dreamily.
"Funny, tequila's my poison also, but I am pretty sure they only have wine." Justin replied, his mood inexplicably lifted. There was something about May, she was like a mood-altering drug in human form, you couldn't help but feel better in her presence. "Why in the world do you need a drink?" Justin asked curiously.
"Oh, I had one of our monthly tiffs with Angelo, tonight of all nights, so now he's sulking. He and I will be back to normal by tomorrow morning, if not by the end of the show tonight, don't you worry." She said, seeing concern on Justin's face. "In the meantime, wine will do in a pinch, since there's no tequila. Come on!" She took his hand and led him to the make-shift bar.
On the other side of the gallery, Brian was looking at Justin's work, completely mesmerized. He's known that Justin was talented for years; he's known it ever since he met him eight years ago; he was especially, painfully aware of it over the last four years that he's been following his career from afar. He knew that his talent would grow and develop; hell, he's been told that by Lindsay alone enough times over the years. However, knowing something in an abstract, nebulous way and witnessing it with his own eyes was completely different. It wasn't just a matter of an improved technique, or the complexity of the composition, or the range of the subject matter and style – only professional art critics, gallery owners, museum curators or, maybe, art historians would be able to get into the nitty-gritty of those details with any amount of authority.
Brian wasn't any of those people; he was simply an art lover who first discovered his interest in it at college through Lindsay. She needled him into taking a survey History of Art class with her their freshman year and he was hooked. He ended up taking a couple more courses just for the enjoyment of it and would have had a minor in Art History, if he didn't decide to get one in Business Administration instead. Until she met Mel, Lindsay dragged Brian to every art exhibition and gallery opening that they had in Pittsburgh and even though he complained out loud about having to endure yet another boring gallery event, he secretly loved every minute of it. Brian, having a discerning eye, knew what he liked and what he didn't when it came to art and had no compunction whatsoever about being confidently vocal with his opinions, regardless of whether or not they offended the artist. His comments at gallery events mortified Lindsay on numerous occasions, though she continued to take him with her nonetheless. It was a rare, very rare thing when a work of art rendered him speechless. He could count those times on both hands and more than half of them have all happened when he was looking at Justin's paintings and drawings, and most of them have happened in the last four years. Even though Brian couldn't describe in technical, art historical, or "industry" terms exactly how Justin's talent developed and how his artwork has evolved over the last four years, he could say with absolute certainty that it has become increasingly compelling and unforgettable with each new show. Brian was sure that there were plenty of people who didn't enjoy Justin's work. After all, no artist in the history of the world could claim universal approval. He was also sure, dead sure, that whatever their personal likes or dislikes, absolutely no one would be left cold or unaffected by Justin's work, especially when it came to this particular exhibit.
So there Brian was, studying Justin's art from painting to painting, and drawing to drawing in increasing fascination, his admiration growing with each new piece. His representational pieces, both drawn and painted, were sharp in their realism and unapologetically emotional, though they didn't go for the heartstrings – they went for the gut, like an unexpected punch in the solar plexus that left you breathless. His abstract work assaulted the eyes with its bold use of color and projected a sense of unstoppable energy and verve. To Brian, the way the works were arranged in the gallery space was like a roller-coaster ride for the senses, unbiddable and ungovernable, racing towards an unknown climax without rest until you were drowning in the drama of it all.
Brian let out a quiet laugh at these thoughts; until that moment he didn't realize it was within him to be this poetic about an art exhibit.
"God, what has become of me? I need a drink!" He muttered.
"I can get you a glass of wine, if you'd like. Unfortunately, that's all they are serving here." said May, who appeared at his side unnoticed.
"Thanks, but maybe later."
"So, what do you think?" she asked curiously.
"About the artwork? So many things that I have no words and that is a first for me." Brian replied, shaking his head. "I've known Justin for a long time, though we haven't been in contact in recent years. I knew he was talented, but the way he challenges himself, the way his work never stays constant just blows me away."
"My thoughts exactly. You should tell him that, you know? I'm sure he'll want to know what you think."
"I very much doubt that. Justin hasn't needed my opinion or approval in a long, long time." Brian replied with conviction.
"It has nothing to do with need and everything to do with want, Brian. As someone who owns a successful advertising agency, you should know that better than anyone. Oh, look, Justin's finally alone. You should go talk to him now before he is accosted by another eager fan." She patted him on the shoulder in a surprisingly motherly fashion and with a wink walked away.
Justin was standing alone, sipping a glass of a very decent Cab and looking at one of his paintings that was marked sold a few minutes ago. Unlike some artists who felt as attached to their works as if they were their own children, Justin had no problem parting with his artwork. When he got out whatever he was feeling at the time out of his system and onto paper or canvas, he felt a sense of release, like an emotional orgasm. After that, he couldn't really care less what happened to the work itself. Of course, he always hoped that it would be seen, liked and sold, he did want to make a living after all. But that desire for artistic recognition and success, however strong it was, has always been secondary, his constant need to create always came first. Whenever one of his pieces sold, he never had any regrets, with only one exception – he wished he never sold his "Angel" drawing of Brian. He tried to recreate it many times, but without much success – it never came out right, it was always missing something.
"This one's mine." Brian said proudly, pointing to the painting that Justin was staring at.
"You bought this? Why?" Justin couldn't hide his surprise.
"It's exquisite. It's intense. And it makes me think of what you said about me this morning – that I am your quicksand."
This particular painting was even more abstract than was usual for Justin's work. The entire composition was a swirling mass of multicolored dots that circled the canvas in an ever tightening spiral, converging together in the very center of the canvas into a tiny singularity of color that seemed to pulse with life.
"Only you would take that as a compliment..." Justin chuckled.
"Oh, I know you didn't mean it as such, but if you feel about me the way this painting makes me feel, than all is not lost." Brian answered seriously. Justin had no idea exactly what that meant. He was shocked yet again that Brian even mentioned the word "feelings", let alone referred to having them himself. He decided not ask for any explanations right this minute.
"Ah, in any case, thank you. I'm glad you liked it enough to buy it. What do you think of the rest?" As hard a he tried not to be interested in Brian's opinion, Justin knew that it was a loosing battle and he might as well bite the bullet and ask. He tightened his grip on his wine grass and braced himself for Brian's response.
"In a word – arresting. I can guarantee that no one who sees this art show will forget it anytime soon or leave here unaffected. I'm sure you have another success on your hands, Sunshine."
Justin was stunned. He expected Brian to berate him for wanting his opinion or, at the very least, make some sort of sarcastic comment, or give one of his signature backhanded compliments. He never expected a straightforward and what seemed like a completely honest answer. As the meaning of Brian's complement finally reached Justin's shocked brain, he stared at Brian with wide eyes, now alight with happiness as a brilliant smile broke across his face and a faint blush of pure pleasure stained his cheeks.
Brian's heart nearly stopped when he saw that smile. "How long has it been since he looked at me that way? How long? Years? Years." he thought. Just like after the bombing at Babylon, Brian decided right then and there that he will do anything, say anything and be anything to make Justin this happy again and again, and again. And he decided that he will do anything and everything in his power to get Justin back to where he belonged – with him, for as long as was humanly possible.
"Listen, about this morning..." they said in unison and nervously laughed. Brian waived his hand in invitation, encouraging Justin to speak first.
"About Pittsburgh. I appreciate the invitation, I do. And I agree that we need to talk, to put whatever it is between us to rest. I think you and I need some sort of closure, at least I know I do. So, I'd like to get together sometime and talk things out, but there's no way I can go to...Are you going to answer it?" Brian's phone has been buzzing in his pocket for a few minutes now and he's been ignoring it, again, to Justin's surprise. But at this point, it was getting down right irritating.
"Don't worry about it." Brian casually dismissed his phone. "I should've just turned the damn thing off. Actually, it's not a bad idea..." He got out his phone and frowned. Lindsey has called him five times and sent him a text "to pick up the goddamn phone". "It's Linds, I think I have to take this...Gus..."
Justin, immediately concerned, exclaimed: "What the fuck are you waiting for? Call her! Here, let me take you to the office, you'll have some privacy." Justin lead Brian towards a short hallway in the back of the gallery and opened the door to a small business office on the side. "I hope everything's OK, Brian. I'll wait by your painting."
Ten minutes later a harassed looking Brian strode towards Justin.
"Is everything OK?" Justin asked anxiously.
"Gus broke his arm and got a slight concussion falling out of a tree he was climbing. He's basically fine, but the munchers are hysterical, which is not helping him in the slightest. He needs quiet and rest after a concussion, not two women carrying on as if he is on his deathbed. I wasn't supposed to leave Chicago until tomorrow night, but I need to be in Toronto pretty much now. There's a flight out of O'Hare in two hours, I hope to God I'll make it. Listen, Sunshine, are you listening?" Brian looked straight into Justin's eyes, his gaze intense.
"I'm glad Gus will be OK and yes, I am listening."
Brian extended his arm to Justin, clutching something in his hand. "Here, take them," he said, dropping a couple of keys into Justin's open palm.
"What are these?"
"The keys to the loft, obviously. Those are new, about a year ago one of the units in the building got broken into, so I changed the locks and the alarm code just in case. Anyway, that's irrelevant...As for closure, yeah, we need closure. But what we need even more than that is a new beginning. Think about Pittsburgh, Justin. When you decide to come, and I know it's "when" and not "if", just use the keys, your keys, anytime – morning, noon or night. I'll be waiting."
Then he grabbed Justin by the neck and pulled him into a kiss, in full view of the gallery and its visitors, a kiss that made Justin's knees weak, his skin tingle and that he felt down to his toes. As abruptly as it began, the kiss ended. Brian raked his hands through Justin's blond hair and with a quiet "Later, Sunshine." he turned around and left.
Disclaimer: All belongs to Showtime and CowLip, except any characters that I introduced.
A/N: Yep, here's another one. Please read/review and enjoy! A huge thank you to all who follow my story.