Two minutes after Brian stormed out, his cell phone rang. Cynthia burst out laughing. "Of course." She picked it up and hit send. "Hello! Brian Kinney's phone."

A very confused sounding Justin asked, "Cynthia?"

"Yup."

"Is … uh … Brian available?"

Cynthia breathed out slowly. "Nope."

"Uh …"

Cynthia flashed no one in particular (since she was alone – still awaiting janitorial) her best sarcastic smirk, something she'd picked up from Brian. "He stepped out."

"Without his phone?" Now Justin's voice held a note of alarm.

Cynthia shook her head. She thought, "Finally, we're on the same page! For a smart kid, sometimes he's a little slow." But she didn't say any of that. Instead, she said, "Yup."

There was an uncomfortably long pause then. Cynthia imagined that Justin was deciding whether he should risk asking where Brian had gone. Apparently, he decided he was more worried about Brian than what Brian would think of him, so he posed the following question, albeit hesitantly. "Um … did he … uh … did he say where he was going?"

Cynthia knew it was cruel, but she answered his question (rather than simply give the boy the information he desperately wanted). "Yes."

She heard Justin huff a laugh through the phone. "Could you pass that information onto me?"

Cynthia grinned. This was fun. Almost made up for the wasted trip to Alphabet City (on the Lower East Side) for the super special Thai. "Yes."

Justin sighed audibly. Then after a pause, he asked, quite bluntly now, "Where is Brian?"

"The West Village."

Now the confusion was back. "What's in the West Village?"

Cynthia shook her head. He was such a babe in the woods, all naïve and inexperienced. "Uh … gay bars and clubs."

"Oh." This came out more like a sound than a word, like someone had just jabbed him in the solar plexus. There was another uncomfortably long pause (as Justin doubtless pondered his options) and then a few nervous false starts (probably prompted by Cynthia's earlier teasing – he needed to ask the right question). "Uh … could … um … do … er … where is he likely to have gone? That is, which bars does he like?"

Cynthia smiled. She thought, "He learns fast." Then she took pity on the lad. "I know exactly where he is. I'll text you the address."

Cynthia could hear the relief in Justin's voice. "Thanks, Cynthia!"

"No prob." Cynthia didn't want to alarm Justin, but she decided she'd best prepare him for the worst. Just in case. "Justin …"

"Yes?"

"Brian was … uh … in a bad mood when he left. This might not apply any more, but … back in the Pitts, when he was upset and hit the clubs … he'd spend the entire night in the back room."

Justin's silence prompted Cynthia to add, just in case (he was a babe in the woods, after all), "… fucking random guys."

"Oh." Again more a sound than a word.

Despite Cynthia's help, Justin was all nerves. He'd just gotten a pretty serious dressing down from Daphne. That was before he'd learned that Brian had basically headed out to the New York Liberty Avenue (one of them, anyway). And that Brian used trick marathons to cope with upset. Now he was triply freaked out. Feeling quite panicked actually.

The dressing down went something like this …

Justin walked into the apartment at about 8:00 pm. Daphne was sitting on the couch watching Project Runway. She glanced over at him when she heard the door. And shot him a funny look (wide eyes, furrowed brow). "What are you doing here?"

Justin laughed. "Uh … I live here."

"Yeah I know, smartass. But why aren't you out with Brian?"

Justin flushed red. He was embarrassed by how drunk he was on Brian. A Brian-holic. He retorted a little defensively, "I don't hang out with him EVERY night."

"Didn't you guys just land that account?"

Justin narrowed his eyes. "Yeah."

"So why aren't you out celebrating?"

"Oh … uh …"

Daphne moved the bowl of popcorn off her lap and stood. "Didn't you tell me that if he didn't get this one, he could lose his job?"

Justin's voice had a slight tremble to it now. "Yes…"

Daphne really didn't need to say more. The implied criticism landed and hard.

Justin ran his fingers through his hair roughly and cursed, "Fuck." Then he cursed some more. "Fuck, fuck, fuck. I got caught up with something at school … I didn't think …"

Then he'd raced into his room and called Brian.

So now he was in full panic mode. He actually bellowed then, not out of anger … just desperate that she hear him over Nina's tongue lashing (Nina, a Project Runway judge, was almost always so harsh during the critiques … he felt sure he would have had a meltdown if he were ever subject to one), "DAPH! I need you!"

Daphne was so worried she didn't even pause to mute the TV. She burst through his door like he was trapped in a fire. "WHAT? WHAT'S WRONG?"

Justin made a pitiful face. "I need to look SCORCHING hot. And I mean SCORCHING."

Daphne gave Justin a mostly playful shove. "ASSHOLE! I thought there was an emergency."

Still plaintive and miserable, Justin nodded solemnly, "It IS an emergency. I could lose Brian, Daph. Tonight. If I can't turn heads…"

Daphne rolled her eyes and sighed. "You men and your drama. Let's see what you got …"

Justin immediately started emptying his closet (tossing shirts and pants over his head with little regard to where they might land).

Inside of a minute Daphne was buried (she'd been trying to catch them, but they were flying too quickly).

Meanwhile …

Cynthia had texted Justin the address … and supervised the cleaning of the carpet in Brian's office. Now she was contemplating. Should she go herself and perhaps save Brian from his knack for self-destruction? Brian had been happier than she'd ever seen him since meeting Justin. Less pissy and even more productive, creative, and inclined to take risks … he'd even planned to have Gus visit. That had been delayed, but not canceled (and that would make exactly one time since Brian had moved to New York). Justin was definitely good for Brian. Indeed, she had to give Justin some of the credit for the fact that Brian was now seriously on the partner track. Justin seemed to inspire Brian to higher heights.

Cynthia sighed, grabbed her purse, and marched purposefully toward the elevator. She couldn't let Brian fuck up the only good thing to happen to Brian since her entrance into his office way back in the Ryder days. He was getting and KEEPING his Prince Charming.