CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN

Justin didn't bother changing out of his stage clothes. I hurried him past the tables of staring patrons, pausing only to briefly explain the situation to a startled Sammy on the way, and then we raced to where I'd parked the Jeep.

"Which hospital is she in?" I asked as I peeled out of the car park.

"UPMC … the Children's Hospital," he replied, chewing nervously at his thumbnail.

"On Penn Avenue, right?"

He nodded.

"Did Ethan have any details?"

"Only that she was having trouble breathing. It's happened before, she's very prone to chest infections. Mom monitors her temperature every day so if she is starting anything we can pick it up quickly. Christ!" He slammed his fist against his thigh. "I should have been there!"

I sighed. "Justin…"

"Don't you dare tell me it's not my fault!" He turned blazing eyes on me. "Don't you dare!"

"I wasn't going to, although it's true. It's not your fault."

"No?" He blinked back tears. "If I hadn't been so determined to make music my career … if I hadn't been so fucking stubborn … Gary would never have wanted me in the first place. And if I wasn't gay Dad would never have thrown me out and I'd still be there to help Mom and Molly. So how isn't it my fault?"

There was no way I was letting him get away with that crap. "The only guilty parties in this whole fucking mess are your father for being an asshole and Saperstein for being a manipulative, self-serving bastard," I told him grimly, throwing him a sidelong glance. "Did you know that Crystal is actually his niece?"

"What?" He looked stunned. "Gary's niece? What the fuck are you talking about, Brian?"

"They're in it together, believe me. I think Saperstein engineered the whole situation just so that he could get his hands on you … Crystal was the honeypot and your father dove in dick first. But she certainly doesn't have any plans to stick around any longer than she has to."

He stared at me for a long minute and then to my surprise he laughed, although there wasn't much humour in it. Well, I figured it was better than tears. "Oh, God. He was so smug about her, so pleased that he'd pulled someone so hot and so young … and now you're telling me he's risked everything for someone who doesn't give a shit about him?"

"Yep. Classic case of male menopause, if you ask me."

"God." He repeated, leaning back on the headrest and closing his eyes wearily. "I wish I could feel sorry for him."

"Don't waste your time. He deserves everything he gets."

"But Mom doesn't … and neither does Molly. And if what you say is true, and Gary did plan all this, then maybe Dad doesn't either."

"Bullshit. Nobody forced your father to cheat on your Mom. Crystal didn't rape him, for fuck's sake! She could have walked around his office all day buck naked, but that didn't mean he had to fuck her and it certainly didn't mean that he had to let her bleed him dry. And nobody forced him to be such a piss-poor father that he'd be happy to let you bail out his ass just because you were gay! Do you think he'd have ever entertained the idea if you'd been straight?" I snorted. "Saperstein might have dangled the bait, but your father was the one who jumped on the hook, Sunshine."

He didn't answer. I glanced over at him: his head was down and he was playing with the fabric of his pants, pleating the thin material over and over again between his fingers. I knew he was worried sick about his sister and I hated digging at him, but I'd put off this moment too long.

"That guy I was with … his name's Sammy Lowenbraun. He's an agent … he promotes bands and singers, you know?"

"Yes, Brian. I do know what an agent is."

I clenched my jaw at the tone of his voice and swore patience. "Well, I sent him a copy of the CD you gave me. He's interested, Justin. That's why we were at the Starlight, so he could see you perform."

"I'm flattered, even though you're interfering again. But I'm afraid you've wasted your time … Gary wouldn't be interested in having an agent."

Okay. He'd only been looking at me, he hadn't noticed Saperstein's reaction. He didn't realise we'd been rumbled. "Justin," I said carefully, "I think the whole thing with you and Gary might be over. He knows."

He looked at me blankly. "Knows what?"

Jesus Christ, and I thought Mikey was dense. "About us, you little twat," I all but yelled. "What the hell do you think?"

He swung round to face me and his voice climbed an octave. "You told him?"

"Of course I fucking didn't, what do you take me for?" I was insulted. "I didn't have to. He's not stupid, for fuck's sake! He's suspicious of every man who so much as breathes on you … he watches you like fucking hawk, so he was hardly going to miss the way you were looking at me while you were singing. I'm telling you, Justin, he fucking knows."

He sank back into the seat again. "Of course he doesn't, you're just being paranoid. When he got back from hospital I told him how Brad had heroically rescued me from being trampled to death, and Brad told him how I'd been locked up in my tower the whole time he was gone, and Gary was too fucked up on painkillers to question it. He's jealous of you, sure, the same way he was of Ethan, but that's all, Brian. I can handle that."

I gripped the wheel harder in an effort not to strangle him. "So you're still bent on carrying on this farce, Justin? Even after what I've told you?"

He gave an irritated little shrug. "Well, the whole Crystal thing was a bit of a shock, I admit. But other than that, how has anything changed? You're telling me Gary's a manipulator. Hello? I live with him. That he'll go to any lengths to get what he wants? I know that too, better than most. I'm not an idiot, Brian, and I'm not some naïve kid. The truth is that Mom still needs my father's support…" his voice cracked a little, "maybe now more than ever, and I'm the only one who can make sure that she gets it." He paused thoughtfully. "In fact, you've just given me my own bargaining chip … if Dad were to find out the truth about Crystal, God knows what he might do. He might even go to the cops himself. I'm sure Gary wouldn't want to risk that."

I couldn't believe what I was hearing. "You … I can't … you are seriously fucked up, you know that, don't you?" I sputtered. "You're going to try and play Saperstein at his own game? Don't even think about it, little boy!"

The blue eyes were flashing again. "I've managed this far, haven't I, old man?"

"Oh yes," I said bitingly. "You've done a slap-up job, Sunshine."

He let out a long sigh. Then he slowly reached out and laid his hand on my leg. "Brian … please, I don't want to fight. I'm sorry for all the things I said at the Loft … you just freaked me out for a moment and I lost it. I know you were only trying to help, the same way you are now, and God knows I appreciate it. But you can't help, and right now the only person I'm worried about is Molly, so can we leave it alone, please? Please?"

"I wish I could," I told him. I really, really wished I could, especially with those blue eyes looking at me so pleadingly. I had to remind myself that the Sap wasn't the only manipulator, and steeled myself to go on. "I'd give anything not to be saying this to you right now, under these circumstances. But I know very well that once you get out of this Jeep you'll disappear on me again, and it'll never get said at all. I don't care what you think you can handle, or how smart you think you are … the truth is that Saperstein is a fucking fruit, and that makes him unpredictable – and more dangerous than you understand. So if you won't listen, then I'll have to find someone who will."

"The cops?" he scoffed. "I've already told you, I have no complaint to make."

"I'm not talking abut you. You think Saperstein's clean? I'm telling you, he's not. You think he made his money by the sweat of his brow and clever investments? You think that pet quack of his writes his prescriptions and takes care of his fuck-ups out of the kindness of his heart? You think that supplying a bent accountant to clean up your father's books is legal? There's plenty the cops might be interested in, without any testimony from you. But I wasn't planning on that route, not yet. I've got someone with far more immediate clout in mind … your mother."

His eyes got larger and larger as I was speaking, and now his mouth hung open with shock. "You wouldn't!" he protested. "You promised!"

"I did not. I honoured your confidence because I thought eventually you'd wisen up, but obviously I was wrong. The only reason I've waited until now is to give you the opportunity of telling her yourself, because I'm sure she'd rather hear it from you than a complete stranger. But now I guess I don't have any other choice."

"How can you do this to me?" he yelled, his fists clenched tightly. "How can you lay this crap on me now, when Molly could be fucking dead for all I know! And you expect me to involve my mother? Don't you think she's going through enough already?"

"Justin, I've heard all this before. There's always a reason why you can't say anything. Even if your sister survives this crisis, there'll only be another, and another, and you'll just keep digging yourself in deeper. I can't sit back and let it happen anymore."

"What right do you have? What fucking right to interfere at all? I never asked you to. I never asked you for fucking anything! How dare you start laying the law down, like you were my fucking father or something…"

"I'll tell you what right I have!" I yelled back. "Because I fucking love you, you fucking stupid, pig-headed little twat, and I'm not going to watch you destroy yourself over this bullshit anymore!"

The Jeep was suddenly very quiet. Justin was staring at me like I'd turned into a bowl of daffodils before his eyes. I swallowed, hard: I really hadn't meant to blurt it out like that … Christ, I hadn't even fully admitted it to myself yet. I glanced at him again: yep, still staring.

When he finally spoke, his voice was icy calm. "That is the biggest crock of shit I've ever heard in my life, Brian." And then he shut up, and refused to say another word to me.

By the time we arrived at the Children's Hospital I was half inclined to throw him out of the Jeep and let him get on with it. I didn't know what hurt most, my pride or my heart: I tried to tell myself that it wasn't really Justin's fault, because he didn't know me well enough to realise what a huge deal saying those words had been for me, but it didn't really help. Inside I was fuming, cursing myself for letting my feelings betray me into making such a ridiculous, ill-considered declaration. I, of all people, should have known better.

But somehow I couldn't do it. I couldn't leave him to face whatever was waiting for him inside that hospital alone, and I was still determined to somehow take this opportunity of speaking to Jennifer Taylor and letting her know what her husband was up to, whatever the cost either to me or Justin himself, so I parked the Jeep and followed his slender, black-clad figure into the hospital. He evidently knew where he was going and I trotted behind him as he by-passed reception and hurried down a long corridor until he came to an elevator. Justin pressed the buzzer and then turned towards me, his face angry.

"You're not coming up, Brian."

"I think you'll find I am."

"I'll call security!"

I spread my arms wide. "Go ahead. I'm not leaving."

His face was a study of frustration, but the elevator doors slid open and he stepped inside, with me right on his heels. He hit the button for the 4th level and stood with his back pressed to the wall of the car, as far away from me as he could get. "Please," he asked again. "Please don't do this. Please don't make me hate you."

I figured it was a pretty good sign that he already didn't. "Then tell her yourself, and I won't have to."

He banged his head gently against the metal a few times and then just seemed to slump down a little, physically admitting defeat. "Okay. You win," he sighed. "I don't have the energy to fight you." The elevator lurched to a halt and the doors hissed open, revealing another corridor with swing doors at the far end leading to a brightly lit ward. As we stepped out Justin grabbed my arm. "At least give me tonight. At least let me find out how Molly is before I lay this on Mom…" His voice trailed off.

I could hardly deny him that. Besides, much as I didn't want to think about it in those terms, there was always the possibility that Justin's sister would deprive Saperstein of his most potent weapon by taking herself out of the picture, thus solving all our problems. I could hardly say that to Justin, though, so I reached out and touched his cheek instead. "Alright," I agreed, my voice gentler than I'd intended. "I'll give you that much leeway, Sunshine."

Just for a second he leaned into the caress and I felt the familiar jolt between us, even here, even with his sister maybe dying or even already dead. I wanted to kiss him so badly and I thought for a moment he was going to let me, but then he broke away and walked to a reception desk set in the wall a little way down the corridor. The face of the severe-looking grey-haired nurse sitting behind it softened in a welcoming smile when she saw who was approaching and she held out her hand.

"Hello again, Justin. You're looking well." Her eyes widened a little with surprise as she took in his clinging attire.

"Thanks, Mary," he replied, returning the pressure of her fingers. "You too. Where is she?"

"Intensive Care.," Mary replied, her expression sobering into sympathy. "Your mom's with her … they're expecting you, so as soon as you're suited up you can go on in."

I saw Justin relax a little with relief as he heard that Molly was at least still alive. "Thanks," he told her, smiling.

Her sharp gaze swept speculatively over me. "Is your friend staying?"

"Yes," I replied instantly, laying a hand on Justin's shoulder and assuming what I figured the expression of a concerned/supportive/empathic boyfriend might be. Damned if it didn't actually feel pretty natural. "Of course."

Her lips twitched, but whether it was with amusement, or disapproval, or just fucking indigestion I couldn't tell. All she said was, "I'll take you to the waiting area."

Justin was fidgeting beside me. "I have to go get a sterile robe and mask," he said, looking up at me nervously. "I don't know how long it's gonna be … umm … I'll try and let you know what's going on, but…"

"Sure," I reassured him. "Don't worry, I'll wait. Just go." I gave him a gentle shove and watched as he gave a reluctant nod and began to turn away. "And Justin … I hope she's alright."

I really did.

He gave me a small faltering smile before hurrying off towards the swing doors at the end of the corridor and I turned to find Nurse Mary standing behind me, making me jump.

"Do you have a cell phone?" she asked.

Wow. She hadn't looked that tall behind a desk. Or that grim when she'd been talking to Justin. In fact, with her short iron-grey hair and her rigidly upright posture, she really reminded me of … Oh, God.

"Um … yes," I admitted, patting guiltily at my pocket.

"Then please turn it off." She waited while I fumbled out my cell and disabled it before extending her hand. "Mister…?" she queried.

"K-Kinney," I replied. Damn, I did not just stutter. "Brian Kinney."

She'd squeezed Justin's fingers gently, affectionately. I knew, I'd seen her. She took my hand in a steel-like grip and I was terrified for a moment that she wouldn't let go until my knees gave out. I managed to rally myself and we indulged in a little trial of strength until she seemed prepared to call it quits and released me. I tried not to believe that it was only because she didn't want to permanently maim my hand. "Mr Kinney," she acknowledged, giving a brief nod. "Come this way, please."

I followed her as she marched – yes, fucking marched, alright, with her hideous sensible black hospital shoes squeaking on the linoleum – down the corridor away from the ward, trying not to feel like a prisoner under escort. At the end was a T junction and Mary turned right, then took a left, and eventually ended up at a door leading into a medium-sized waiting room, simply but comfortably furnished, with a flat screen TV hanging on the far wall and low tables bearing glossy magazines scattered about.

"There are drink and snack vending machines over there if you want something to eat," Mary said. "And if you do need to place a call then please either use one of the public pay-phones or go down to main reception to use your cell. If you have any other concerns please come and see me." She gave me another perfunctory nod before turning and marching back to her sentry-box. Warden, I thought, watching her receding back, and shuddered.

I walked into the waiting room, and for a moment I thought it was empty. Then I noticed a man sitting in one of the armchairs: his face was turned towards the TV so that I could only see his profile, but the stocky build and sandy-blond hair were enough to identify him.

Craig fucking Taylor.

TBC