First Year
November
"What the fuck does he want this time?"
"I don't know. Maybe he just heard that I signed the contract with Fred and wants to congratulate me or something."
"Fat fucking chance."
"Brian, you don't have to worry about him, you know that."
"Not worried doesn't mean that I like it. That asshole has been calling for over a month and I'm fucking tired of it."
They two of them had been squabbling over Ethan for weeks now, since they had gotten back from the show in New York. Hardly a day went by without Justin hearing from him one way or another. Either he'd call the loft or his cel or meet him after some class or walk up to him in the cafeteria.
He'd never stepped over any kind of a line, he always asked how Brian was and he always left when Justin said he had something to do or someplace to go.
He was just always fucking there.
OK, sure. They knew Ethan was trying to get back in Justin's life, but it wouldn't work and it was getting annoying.
"Alright, I'll talk to him. I'll tell him to leave me alone."
Over breakfast at the diner, with Justin in the bathroom, Debbie sat next to Brian during a brief lull. "You two need to get away, just the two of you so you can get your fucking priorities straight. You need to tell fucking Ethan to leave your husband the Hell alone and you—Mister—need to get a shitload more sleep than you've been getting the last few months. You hear what I'm saying to you?" Now that they were back from New York, Brian was trying to make up for lost time by going back to his fourteen hour a day schedule, with another eight or so hours on Saturday thrown in for good measure. Justin was worried and angry and at a loss as to how to cope with a problem he had hoped solved a couple of months ago.
Brian was sitting on the bench of the booth with his back against the wall, his foot up and his arm resting on the table. He gave Deb a mild look, for him. "Anything else, Mom?"
"Yeah, a Hell of a lot more. You need to drop your fucking attitude about your damn job and let that kid know that he's more important to you than your name on a Goddamned office door. After that, you have to make peace with your father-in-law. I'm willing to concede that your bitch of a mother is a lost cause, but Justin's hurting about his Dad and you're the only one who can fix that."
"His father is a homophobic asshole who has hated me for three years. What the fuck am I supposed to do to change that?"
"Well, I don't know—something. What the fuck are you two doing for Thanksgiving?"
Justin came back, taking his seat opposite Brian. "We're going to my Mom's. My grandparents are coming in and I think my aunt will be there, too."
Deb looked at Brian. "It's about time you had a place to go other than camping out at my house—you are taking the day off, aren't you?"
"Brian told me that he's taking a long weekend to just sleep."
"Yeah, I know what his 'just sleeping' means. You close your eyes once in a while, don't just spend the whole time in bed, OK?" She looked over at the kitchen. "Oh, shit, my orders are up." She was gone.
"I can't take the whole weekend off. I'll have to go into the office on Friday and I might have to put in a couple of hours on Saturday."
Justin looked at him in disbelief. "Are you shitting me?" Brian sipped his coffee, not responding. "When the fuck were you planning on telling me?"
"I just did."
"Goddamnit, Brian. We had plans and you said..."
"I have an early meeting. I'll see you later."
"When? Fucking midnight?"
"Back off, twat. This is business and I'm late. I have to go." He got up, put on his coat and left Justin sitting there. Seeing, if not hearing, what had happened, Michael came over, sitting where Brian had just been.
"What happened?"
"Nothing."
"Bullshit. That's the Brian Kinney just fucked me face. What did he do this time?"
Justin didn't usually talk about their relationship, but he was hurt and pissed. "He's working over Thanksgiving after telling me that he'd take the time off."
"He has a couple of really big accounts that need handholding. Besides, you know he's trying to position himself to so that he can either make a big move to another agency or open his own shop. This is important to him."
"I thought that I was important to him."
"You are—he fucking married you, didn't he? And he took time to help you with your show in New York last month and he went up to Canada a couple of times with you—he's done a lot, Justin."
Justin was toying with his eggs, drawing patterns in the now cold yolks with his fork. "I just wish that I mattered as much to him as his fucking job."
"You asshole. Why the Hell do you think he's practically killing himself working? He's doing it for the two of you."
"He'd be doing it whether I was here or not." Needing to get to class, Justin walked out. Emmett wandered over to see what had happened.
"Have you noticed that Justin is a fucking princess?"
"Why yes, I have, sweetie. It's part of his charm."
Brian didn't tell Justin that his early meeting was at Taylor Construction Corp. Walking into the main office, he informed the secretary that, no he didn't have an appointment, but he thought his father-in-law might be able to spare a few minutes. It wouldn't take long.
Her eyes wide at who the astoundingly handsome man in front of her was, the young lady disappeared into the inner office for just a minute, coming out almost immediately. "Mr. Taylor will see you, sir, go right in."
"What do you want, Kinney?"
"Are you planning on going to Jennifer's for Thanksgiving?"
"I have other plans."
"Fucking break them. Both of your kids want you there."
"And I take it that you'll be there, too."
"I'm married to your son, yes, I'll be there." Craig started to dismiss him, tell him to get the Hell out of his office. "I'll stay away from you, you stay away from me. This isn't about us. I don't like you any more than you like me. You're a fucking parent—act like it, do something for your Goddamned kids. Show up for the fucking dinner."
Craig leaned back in his chair. "Does Justin know you're here?"
"No, and unless you're a bigger asshole than I thought, you won't tell him and you'll let him think that you're there because you actually want to be."
He paused for a moment. "What time?"
"Two."
He nodded. "Fine, I'll be there."
"Good for you, Craig. I'll even let them think that you wanted to come."
When Justin came out of his computer graphics class, Ethan was waiting for him.
"Hey, you want to get some lunch?"
Shit. Brian would be pissed if he knew. Well, OK. He could use this to break it off. "Sure, fine."
They walked down to the cafeteria. It was late, after three and there was almost no one in the place. They went through the line, Ethan surprising Justin by actually springing for the shrimp roll and the large shrimp salad. He looked a question at the musician "I played a wedding last weekend. I'm rich today."
Nodding, Justin took his hamburger and fries over to one of the secluded window tables, hidden behind a screen for privacy. The two of them sat down, starting with some small talk about the upcoming holiday. Finally, almost at the end of the quick meal, Justin just said what he had to.
"Look, Ethan, I know you want to be friends and all that, but I don't think it's really going to work out."
"Sure it can. I mean, we're just friends, that's all. It's not a big deal or anything."
"Brian doesn't like it and I'm not comfortable, so I think we should just let it go, OK?"
Ethan looked stricken, like when Justin had left him the first time. "Shit, Justin, do you always do what the hub says? Can't you fucking think for yourself for once in your life?
"As a matter of fact, I can." Getting up, taking his tray, he left without bothering with another word.
If he had looked back he might have seen Ethan angrily shove the large shrimp in his mouth. Seated behind the screen, no one saw, no one could perform the Heimlich maneuver. He was found about fifteen minutes later, choked to death on the shrimp.
Because of that week's holiday and pending notification of next of kin, no announcement was made.
"Mikey, I told you, I'm going to Jennifer's with Justin for Thanksgiving."
"But we always spend Thanksgiving together. It's a tradition, asshole."
"Well, this is a new tradition. Deal with it."
"You are so Goddamned whipped by him I can't believe it. Are you going to be taking up pottery next so you two can have art in common?"
"Fuck you, asshole—fine. We'll try to stop by for dessert after, but don't count on us."
"Asshole." Michael hung up the phone. Sure, he had Ben and that was great, but Brian was still his best friend. OK, he couldn't stand Hunter and he was busy with his job and with Boy Wonder, but they were supposed to be there for each other. He knew, he really knew, that pretty soon now Brian would wake up to what a pain in the ass princess the twat really was and then he'd be there for him. He knew Brian still loved him—always had, always will. Even when the twat was gone, they'd still be around. He could wait.
Thanksgiving morning was frigid; a cold front had moved in from Canada and had the entire city in an early freeze. Justin tried, without success to get the heat working and a call to the building manager told him to call back after the holiday. Shit.
"Brian, we can't stay here. There isn't even a fireplace and with fucking twenty foot ceilings, there's no way in Hell space heaters with do squat."
"This is the mouth you kiss your mother with?"
"It's also the mouth I suck you off with and I've never heard you complain."
Brian was reaching for one of his cashmere turtlenecks, shit it was freezing. "OK, we can stay in a hotel for a couple for days."
"Brian, that is such bullshit. We can just stay with my mother and save the thousand dollars that would cost us."
"I'd rather spend the thousand." Seeing the look on Justin's face he relented. "What did she say when you asked her?"
"She's thrilled."
"I'll bet she is." He tossed Justin a weekend bag. "Get your shit."
They got to Jennifer's an hour later, having packed and stopped to get some flowers. Brian had insisted that they get a small bouquet for Molly, too, letting her know they'd thought of her. With the heat out, they got to Jen's early enough to help with the cooking—or rather Justin did. Brian was relegated to helping Molly set the table, putting out the snacks and setting up the bar.
Jennifer walked out to see how he was doing. If the man knew anything, he knew how to set up a bar. It was just fine. "Brian, are you going to stop by your mother's this afternoon?"
"No, I thought that I'd try to have a pleasant day, thanks."
She let that go. "You wouldn't know anything about Craig deciding to show up today, would you?"
"Why the fuck would I know anything about that?"
"...Because he said that you stopped by his office to suggest that Justin and Molly would like him to show up." He gave her a level look. "Thank you."
The rest of the guests showed up a couple of hours later, the college games were turned on and Justin and Brian did their best to ignore them. The two of them spent most of the time either watching a movie with some of the cousins or chatting with Justin's grandparents. Craig was ensconced in front of the TV, as was his norm on family holidays, and things went pretty smoothly, all things considered.
They were sitting down to eat when the bell rang again. OK, there was one empty place, but Brian had just chalked that down to a mis-count. Jumping up, Molly went while everyone else worked on loading their plates.
"Brian? It's for you."
Turning around to the doorway, he managed a startled and none too pleased, "Mom, what are you doing here?" She was holding an enormous cake, obviously homemade and very chocolate.
"Mrs. Taylor invited me. She thought that it would be nice if we all got to know each other."
"Why the fuck would she think that?"
"Well, Brian I just thought that with Craig here and my parents and everyone, your mother would like to have a nice big family dinner and we could all get acquainted."
Joan made her tentative way to the empty seat across from Brian and Justin. The look Brian threw Jen was one of his classics—angry, betrayed and close to walking out. Justin put his hand on his arm and gave him a pleading look.
"Why aren't you with Claire?" The rest of the table had gone silent. The only sounds were the occasional clinking of silverware on china.
"Your sister went to visit her new boyfriend in Orlando and took the boys with her. Mrs. Taylor called me this week to see if I had plans and I told her that I was free, so here I am."
"So explain to me why you'd want to eat dinner with a couple of fags? Shouldn't you be praying for our salvation, lighting a few candles?"
"I went to Mass this morning, darling. You know I go every morning. Perhaps you'd join me one of these days."
"Not fucking likely."
"Brian, must you use such language?"
"I think I've earned it today."
Jennifer's father spoke up, "Brian, Mrs. Kinney, if you don't mind, this is a family dinner. I understand that there's some bad blood between the two of you, but I'll ask you to keep that to yourselves while we eat."
The two Kinney's looked at him. Joan nodded, Brian actually muttered a "Sorry." The meal went on, everyone pretending that the far end of the table wasn't thick with tension and that Brian had eaten almost nothing. Joan was attempting small talk, and surprised her son by seeming to be pleasant.
Tapping the edge of his glass for silence, Bill spoke again about half way through the meal. Brian had joined in the conversation but his plate remained untouched.
"If I may, I'd like to offer a toast this evening." Everyone stopped talking. "Tonight, we have much to be grateful for. Justin is with us and healthy again." There were happy murmurs. "We are blessed to have the addition of a new member to our family—Brian, and we trust that he and Justin will be with us and happy for many years to come." Justin kissed Brian's cheek, smiling. Brian returned the kiss; noticing Craig and Joan's visibly flinch at the sight. "Despite some difficulties, Jennifer and Craig have managed to keep what's important in sight and Claudia and I are, God willing and the creeks don't rise, going to see our grandchildren grow up." He raised his glass. "To health, and happiness."
The others chorused his toast, drinking their wine.
If Bill had hoped for a thaw between Brian and his mother, he was to be disappointed. Though they remained civil to one another, they didn't exchange another word and Joan left as the dessert plates were cleared away. Craig had the good sense to steer clear of the charged situation and also left relatively early. After another hour or so of small talk, Brian quietly made his way up to Justin's old room, where Justin found him lying on the bed, fully clothed in the dark.
"You alright?"
"I couldn't fucking believe your mother asked that cunt here without a Goddamned word to me."
"Brian..."
"I mean, fuck me, what did she think would happen? That we'd bury the hatchet? Maybe we could just kiss and make up."
"Brian, it wasn't..."
"That bitch stood by and watched my father beat the crap out of me, she's informed me that I'm going to Hell—where you'll be joining me by the way, she accused me of molesting Claire's fucking kid and after that she had the balls to ask me for money as she was disinheriting me." He exhaled explosively. "Fucking bitch."
"I called her."
"What?"
He sat on the edge of the bed. "It wasn't Mom—well, OK it was, but she called Joan because I asked her to."
"Jesus, Justin, what the fuck were you thinking?"
He tried to stroke Brian's face. The older man turned away. "I thought that if she could see you here, with people you like and relaxed and happy, she'd ..."
"See that I'm not a complete shit?"
He managed a small smile. "Something like that."
"Sunshine, don't hold your fucking breath."
"But maybe with enough time she'll..."
"Justin, don't. Don't try to put this back together. If it was ever whole, it's fucking shattered now and I don't ever want to see that cunt again."
"Bri..."
"No."
He nodded. He'd let it go. At least his father was there tonight, at least that was starting to heal.