Chapter 18 – News from Home

Justin decided to push. "I don't buy it."

Marc looked over at Justin where he stood ready to leave for the signing dinner. The two men were leaving from Marc's townhouse and would be joined later by Brian and John. "What do you mean?"

Justin's appraising glance made Marc fidget, a somewhat ridiculous sight on a six-foot-four inch tall man. "I've gotten to know you pretty well in the last month," Justin said, gazing steadily into Marc's blue eyes. "You don't care who knows you're dating John. This need to hide it during your contract negotiations … I don't buy it." Justin tilted his head, challenging Marc to continue lying.

Marc's wry half-smile acknowledged the point. "Very good. Fortunately, John's not quite as intuitive as you," the smile faded, "or he wants to believe it badly."

"I thought so," Justin responded. When Marc didn't explain, Justin prompted him again. "So why are we doing this?"

Marc got up, opened the fridge and took out a beer. He offered one to Justin, returning it to the fridge when Justin declined. "John and I had been dating for about three months when he had to go see his mother. He made up excuses not to take me - really bad ones." Marc shook his head in annoyance, taking a long drink. "It went on for a couple of months. I got tired of it, so I asked him why he was hiding me. He denied it."

"He's not embarrassed by you," Justin thought out loud. "His family knows he's gay." Justin brow furrowed as he thought about John's odd behavior. "Weird."

"I agree. I got to know Peter and he's a pretty normal guy, but John never told him." Marc's normally plump lips thinned. "I decided to let John off the hook for a while. I gave him the excuse about not dating the brother of the man I'm negotiating with. He latched on to it. I don't think it ever occurred to him that the excuse had a time limit." Marc's eyes turned hard. "It just ran out."

Justin bit his lip. "You're going to force the issue tonight, aren't you?"

Marc nodded, "I hope you don't mind if the meal's a bit more interesting than you anticipated."

Justin started to laugh. "I'm an expert on getting boyfriends to do things they're not planning to. What are you going to say?"

"I think I'll keep it simple." Marc tilted his head. "I'm just going to tell the truth, and spill the secret, now that the contract's signed." He chuckled and held out his arm. "Shall we?"

"Certainly." Justin linked his arm through Marc's muscular one and headed for the door.

Dinner was a subdued affair. The four-star restaurant had put a table together for the group of eight in an alcove set apart from the main dining room. A chandelier hung immediately above their heads, casting sparkling light over the table. Peter and his wife, Lydia, sat at one end with John and Brian on one side. Marc and Justin sat across from them. Further down the table, Meg sat with her husband Greg. Both Greg and Marc had signed contracts that week.

Brian wasn't happy. His flight had come in three hours late. His meeting with John hadn't happened. He and Justin hadn't been able to meet before dinner. He still didn't know how the Justin/Eric kiss went. He had no idea how Justin would react to his plans. Frustration coupled with boredom to put him in a bitch of a mood.

Meg turned eagerly towards Justin. "So, Justin. Were you happy with your show?"

Justin tossed Brian a brief glance that spoke volumes about his opinion of Meg before turning to her. "I was. Thanks to you and John, I'm selling paintings faster than anyone predicted. We're already planning the next show." He flashed a brilliant smile. "I hope you'll be able to come." Meg's face lit up in response.

Brian smirked slightly, enjoying hearing Justin sound like an ad man.

Meg turned to Marc. "You must be very proud of how well Justin's show went."

Marc smiled at Justin. "It's amazing how talented he is, isn't it? The paintings are practically flying out the door. " Justin grinned back. Brian's irritation grew.

Greg looked at Justin with contempt, bordering on hostility. "I don't understand them at all. They don't look like anything."

Brian eyes narrowed as he watched Greg, aggravated at the unwarranted attack on Justin. The guy was an asshole.

"It's just not the style you like, dear," Meg broke in, tittering in embarrassment. "I liked them. Maybe you could pick something up next time we go out." Meg proceeded to describe three upcoming shows she wanted to attend.

Greg, bored by his wife's endless chatter about artists, changed subjects. "Did you hear about Murphy's head injury? The doctor's say he won't be able to play again."

Peter frowned, thinking about the multi-million dollar contract that had just become worthless. "I got the final report today. His neural system is permanently damaged."

Justin glance went to his hand as he flexed it. "Sometimes doctors are wrong about injuries like that."

"What the hell would you know about it?" Greg's insulting tone caught most of the listeners by surprise. Brian's expression turned flinty as he focused on Greg.

"Greg," Meg protested, "that was rude."

"Why? It's the truth." Greg's homosexual hatred broke through. "What would a gay artiste know about sports injuries?"

"What would a gay artist know about injuries?" Brian cocked an angry eyebrow in Greg's direction, his annoyance with the meal, the company and life in general reaching its peak. "Does getting bashed in the head with a baseball bat count as a sports injury, Greg?"

"Brian, don't!" Justin protested.

Greg's surprise at who was speaking was obvious. "What are you talking about?"

Brian continued, relentlessly focused on Greg. "Have you ever laid in a coma for weeks? Had the doctors tell you you'd never use your hand again? Woken up screaming from nightmares that won't quit?"

"No, but..."

"But nothing." Brian jerked his head toward Justin. "He has, because bastards like you think being gay makes you a target."

"Brian! Stop!" Justin looked seriously annoyed. "Greg's never hurt me."

Brian's hard gaze held Greg's. "Maybe not, but I don't think it'd bother him if someone else did, would it, Greg?" Brian turned to Justin. "Until he's had a bomb go off in his face, he should shut the fuck up."

A thick silence descended on the table as Brian and Greg glared at one another.

Peter, an older version of his brother, arched an elegant eyebrow into his salt and pepper hair as he listened to the conversation. "Well," he interrupted with a self-satisfied smirk. "Curious how your business associate knows all about Marc's boyfriend, isn't it, John?"

John's glance swiveled to his brother's face, quickly assessing. John started to grin.

"We're both gay and we're both from Pittsburgh," Brian intervened. "Justin's injuries and the bombing were headline news. Everybody knew about it."

"His nightmares were headline news?" Peter asked.

Brian rubbed his hand on his neck, leaning his head back slightly then smiled apologetically at Justin as he shrugged his shoulders.

Justin smiled, knowing that Rage's temper had gotten the better of him again. He'd learned to roll with the flashes of fury years ago. He lifted a foot and started to rub it up and down Brian's leg.

Brian began to relax - things were looking up.

John smiled at Marc and gave a light shrug in Peter's direction. "He knows."

Marc responded with a reassuring smile. "It's my fault," he announced. "I was uncomfortable with the fact that I was dating John while negotiating with you, Peter. So I asked Justin to pretend to be my date until the contracts were done. I didn't want my relationship to interfere with business."

"I knew you were dating John months ago." Peter's grin broadened as he continuing looking at his brother. "Don't you know by now that I know everything?"

Marc's puzzled, "How'd you find out?" caused Peter to shake his head at the younger man's naiveté.

"John's an Avery. Family news sweeps through New York. A couple of little gay birds sang at one of my mother's dinners. It had no impact until I found out you'd dumped him for Justin." Peter's face toughened slightly. "That almost got you traded to California."

John started to laugh. "Why didn't you?"

Peter grinned back. "Business is business," he teased before shaking his head. "I could tell something was off when you and Justin were such good friends at the hockey game. I dug a bit and found out about Brian's visit. I decided not to do anything drastic. Your visit with the team to Pittsburgh clinched it. I just cut Marc's offer since I knew how badly he'd want to stay in New York."

"What?" John exclaimed. "Why?"

Peter looked at Marc. "I wouldn't Marc to think I let your relationship interfere with business."

At that comment, the table broke into laughter.

Peter turned back to John. "You'll have to introduce him to Mother soon. Dad and Anthony will help."

"I know they will. Besides, it's not Mother I'm worried about." John and Peter's gaze met in complete understanding.

Justin turned to Meg. "I hope the fact that Marc and I aren't really dating doesn't affect your sponsorship of my work."

Meg looked stumped for a moment. If Justin hadn't been with Marc, she wouldn't have bought the paintings. She didn't understand them. She also didn't care much for Brian's attack on her husband. Unfortunately, she'd look petty if she changed her mind now. "Not at all, Justin. I was at your show before I thought you two were dating." Her smiled was slightly forced as she looked at Brian. "The bombing you mentioned. It was the one at the Pittsburgh club, wasn't it?"

"Yes, Babylon. Why?"

Meg beamed, grateful for a change of subject. "You must be thrilled that they caught the guy that set the bomb."

"What?" Brian's head snapped up at that statement. "What are you talking about?"

Meg started to stutter in response to Brian's intensity. "It was headline news today."

Brian's eyes darkened, his gaze furious. "Did they say who did it?"

Meg swallowed convulsively. "Yes, they did. It was Dobbs, I think, or Hobbs. I think his name was Hobbs."

Brian's wine glass shattered.

"Shit! Brian, are you all right?" John reached over with a napkin to stop the bleeding. Everyone at the table was focused on Brian except for Brian himself.

"I'm fine!" Brian watched Justin closely, ignoring John's ministrations. "Justin," he said softly.

Justin's head shook from side-to-side in disbelief as his voice softly and slowly repeated, "No, no, no, no…"

"Justin!" Brian's raised voice snapped Justin's attention to him. "Are you okay?"

Justin's chair crashed behind him as he stood and pushed violently away from the table. "No!" Brian launched himself around the table to Justin's side.

Justin's horror-filled eyes filled with unshed tears. "It's my fault." Justin's was unfocussed, staring at sights no one else could see. "It's all my fault."

"No, it's not," Brian's grabbed Justin by the arms, shaking him lightly. "Hobbs set the bomb, not you!" Justin's focus shifted to Brian.

"He was trying to kill me!" Justin's low, intense voice carried untold pain. "The club… Michael… My God…" Justin's breathing rasped as his volume increased, "Dusty's dead because I gave Chris Hobbs a hand job." Justin's hysterical laughter cut through the stunned silence like shards of broken glass.

"Justin!" Brian gave Justin a hard shake to cut off the laughter. "It is not your fault. You haven't gone near that bastard in five years."

"Yes, I did!" Justin broke down completely in Brian's arms. "Cody and I… we…."

At the mention of Cody's name, Brian swore. "What did you and Cody do?"

"We went to see him," Justin's voice softened, his eyes pleading Brian to understand. "We didn't hurt him, but we scared him. Cody wanted me to kill him, but I didn't. I didn't even load the gun. I walked away. I walked away from them both."

Brian's phone started to ring in his coat at his chair. Brian ignored it. John reached over and looked at the screen. "Brian, Debbie's calling."

"Deal with her!" Brian snapped at John before turning back to Justin.

John quickly answered the blaring phone. "Debbie, it's John." He paused for a moment. "Yeah, they just found out. Brian's talking to Justin."

Brian's mind whirled with the new information. "If you went with Cody, it was at least a year before the bombing. You didn't cause this."

"You don't know that," Justin shook his head. "Fuck, you still blame yourself for the prom."

"And you keep telling me it's not my fault. Were you lying to me, Sunshine?"

"No, I…" Justin shook. "It's different. You don't understand."

"Yes, I do." Brian pulled Justin in tightly, trying to shield him. "Don't let the bastards win."

John's soft voice responded to Debbie, "No, Debbie. I don't think Justin's taking the news well at all."

Justin couldn't think.

Images from the past pounded through him relentlessly – a painted locker, jeering faces, a bat, the flash of the bomb, Michael bruised and broken, Dusty's children.

Justin tried to focus on the scent and feel of Brian. He could hear Brian's voice – Don't let the bastards win. You sure as hell can't stop them either. No, that's not right. You may not stop them, but you can try. You have to try. New images flashed - the party after Stockwell, dancing after Kip, Gus, Brian.

Justin's head came up and focused on Brian. More memories flooded in. They can only hurt you if you let them. Justin pulled in a shaky breath.

Brian relaxed slightly at the return of sanity to Justin's eyes. "Okay?" At Justin's nod, Brian stepped back and picked up the chair. "Do you want to leave?"

Justin shook his head no and offered the ghost of a smile. Justin sat down, looked around the table, took a deep drink of water and spoke. "Sometimes your past won't stay in the past. If you don't mind, I'd like to talk about something else." He looked around the table at the stunned faces. He prompted again with, "Brian and I are looking for a new place to live. Any suggestions?"

The reactions of the people around the table varied. Lydia immediately reached over, gave Justin's hand a friendly squeeze, and launched into discussions about locations. Marc's chair shifted closer to Justin and his arm came up to give a comforting hug. Peter watched Brian. Meg was, for the first time that evening, silent. Greg stared thoughtfully at Justin, saying nothing.

Brian watched Justin with pride before turning to John. "Give me the phone." Brian took the phone and moved a few steps away.

"Deb, he's all right. Put Carl on." Brian didn't hesitate for a moment before breaking across Debbie's chattering. "Debbie, put Carl on the fucking phone."

Brian waited, lethally angry. "Why didn't anybody tell me what was going on?"

"I don't know, Brian," the police officer responded. "I just found out myself. I didn't connect Chris Hobbs name with Justin's bashing. It all happened before I met any of you. Debbie called as soon as I told her."

"I'm the owner of the goddamned club, Carl. You'd think your homophobic cop friends could have called."

"They probably tried, but you've been traveling all day. Are you staying there longer?"

Brian looked over at Justin, "I'm not sure. I've got clients lined up all week in Pittsburgh. I'll let you know. Carl – find out how strong the case is."

"No problem, Brian. I'll talk to you as soon as I know anything."

Brian walked back to the table, touched Marc on the shoulder and silently pointed at the chair across the table. Marc nodded understandingly and vacated the chair next to Justin. Brian sat down, put his arm around Justin and listened to the conversation with half his attention, the rest focused on Justin.

After a few minutes, Greg cut in. "Justin."

Everyone at the table tensed. Brian looked ready to fight. Justin's hand came over to rest on Brian's thigh, holding him in place. He looked at Greg. "Yes?"

Greg grimaced at the look on Brian's face. "I just wanted to say I'm sorry about my earlier comments."

Justin shook his head. "It's okay. You don't know me."

"I'm thinking that might be my loss." Greg continued gamely, "Can I ask you a question?"

Justin shrugged.

"How do you do it?" Greg's tone surprised Justin. It wasn't hostile. "How do you just sit down and continue dinner after hearing something like that?"

Justin looked into Brian's eyes, thinking for a moment before answering. "Three things. Knowing you're not alone." Brian's hand tightened on Justin's shoulder.

"Second." Justin's shifted his attention to Greg, smiling ironically. "Lots of practice. You learn how to cope." A deep silence settled around the table at the implications inherent in that remark.

"And last, but definitely not least, is a simple rule." Justin shifted his focus back to Brian. "Brian taught me this one five years ago. It's become part of who we are." Brian's face softened slightly, eyebrow raised. Justin smiled back, and then turned to Greg.

"You can't let the bastards win."