My Dirty Little Secret by All-American Rejects

Lyrics

Let me know that I've done wrong/ When I've known this all along/ I go around a time

or two/ Just to waste my time with you/ Tell me all that you've thrown away/ Find out

games you don't wanna play/ You are the only one that needs to know

I'll keep you my dirty little secret/ Don't tell anyone or you'll be just another regret

(Just another regret, hope that you can keep it)/ My dirty little secret/ Who has to

know?

When we live such fragile lives/ It's the best way we survive/ I go around a time or

two/ Just to waste my time with you/ Tell me all that you've thrown away/ Find out

games you don't wanna play/ You are the only one that needs to know

The way she feels inside (inside)/ Those thoughts I can't deny (deny)/ These sleeping

thoughts won't lie (won't lie)/ And all I've tried to hide/ It's eating me apart/ Trace this

life out

I'll keep you my dirty little secret/ Don't tell anyone or you'll be just another regret/ I'll

keep you my dirty little secret/ Hope that you can keep it)

My dirty little secret

Who has to know?

Written by Nick Wheeler, Tyson Ritter

• Copyright © Universal Music Publishing Group

Chapter 7

Justin  

I decided to come down to the place where all three rivers meet. It's kind of symbolic of the way I'm feeling right now. One side is everything I feel when I'm with Brian- sexy, strong, and satisfied. But on the other side of that is the way I feel with Ethan- self-sufficient, self-assured, and self-reliant. And here I am in the middle wondering if I can be all these things on my own.  

Since this morning, I have given up the notion of happily-ever-afters and am willing to live happily-for-now. Does that mean that I don't believe in love anymore? Not at all. I just believe that it is meant for other people, and I find that I can live with that. I can't help wondering if that was what Brian was trying to teach me all along, but in reality, it doesn't really matter.

What does matter is that I love him, and as unrequited as that may be, I refuse to turn into Michael, still waiting for an unfinished handjob and a level of emotion that will never be returned. The fucked up timing of this realization doesn't even bear mentioning. If it did, I would probably lose my resolve to take what I can get of Brian, while keeping my life as I've come to know it with Ethan intact. Brian was right though: People cause their own pain. And I'm learning to live with the consequences of mine.

That said, I put aside my sketchpad to place one very important phone call. Pressing one for speed dial, I am surprised to hear ‘Teenage Sensation' by GusGus playing in front of me, even as the sunlight has disappeared behind a six-foot-two, impeccably dressed, auburn haired and hazel-eyed cloud.

"You rang?" Brian asks me, with his customary smirk adorning a pair of sensual lips that I would like nothing more than to run my tongue across.

"Obviously, I was just calling you. But what are you doing here?"

Brian folded his lips inward in that way that always made my heart race. "I just had lunch with your mother and Emmett."

"Oh?"

"Yes. I'm surprised that your cute little shell-like ears weren't burning, since you were the topic of conversation."

I couldn't help but startle at the revelation. "You didn't tell them about last night, did you?" I didn't want to get my mother's hopes up. She has taken to subtly badgering me of late for not ‘going home' as she terms it. I could understand her point... Well I could if I had a home to go to. The loft is Brian's, and the hovel I am currently staying belongs to Ethan. Whereas this arrangement seemed to satisfy a nomadic fantasy before, it's really  become old now. "Brian, look... it's not that I don't..."

"Forget about it, Sunshine. I know what you mean." He sat next to me in silence for a time. I guess he was as lost in his own thoughts as I was in mine. Granted, to an outsider it was always hard to tell what was going through Brian's mind. Guess I now know what that feels like, and I hate that I have anything in common with those people. "What do you want?"

That question surprised me as it was the last one I expected to hear. "What are you asking?"

He folded his lips in again, this time to buy time. That much I remember about him. It's the act of him choosing his words with care, when there was something really important he wanted to say. Coming to some decision, he asks me to walk with him. I agree, because sitting here seems counterproductive to actually discussing anything. 

When I'm motionless with him all my senses are fixated on Brian, as if there is nothing and no one in the world but him for me. If I am to retain some sense or semblance of autonomy in this moment, I can't be that close to him. He's asking me again what I want, as we begin a leisurely walk down the boardwalk of the Monongahela. I've always found this place peaceful, with the sound of water lapping on the riverbanks. But right now all I can hear is the beating of my own heart and it's disconcerting.

"Why do you keep asking me what I want, Brian? You've made it clear many times that it doesn't matter."

"Are you saying that I am selfish?"

I had to think a moment before answering that question, because in reality Brian is probably the least selfish person I know. Or should I say that I thought I knew? His motives, no matter how convoluted they may have looked, were always pure and with the best of intentions toward their target. I wonder what that says about me and my motives at the moment. "Not selfish, but autocratic. Whatever function I served in your world had to be according to your rules, your need for self-preservation. Looking back, I can respect that. But Brian, in my world, you were my safety net, my safe haven, the only person I thought I could turn to when everything around me was going to hell in a handbasket. I've since learned that you can't be that for me."

He was silent for a time, and I worried a little bit that I may have crossed a line. I've been doing that a lot lately- blurring lines, burning bridges, bulldozing my way through concrete walls, and tearing up one-way streets, only going the wrong direction so that I set myself on a collision course with self-discovery. How fucked up is it that I no longer remember the person I used to be before Hobbs? And here Brian is asking me what I want. The truth, MY truth is that I want him.

I want what we had before the prom, where I thought we were making some real progress. I want to wake up with him again. I want to know that part of Brian which he keeps hidden away from the rest of the world. I want him to feel safe with me. But most of all, I want to know me again.

And the fact of the matter is that I can't have all I want from Brian, if I don't obtain those same things within myself. I can't even bring myself to ask for them, since this isn't fucking Jerry McGuire and I can't ask Brian to complete me. This is real life and that's not his job. It belongs to me and me alone! Yes, two halves make one whole in everything... 

Except where relationships are concerned.

"So where does that leave us? After last night, I thought..."

"What? That I would just come running back to you, Brian, begging your forgiveness for something that we both caused? I've taken you for a lot of things, but delusional was never one of them."

Brian stopped walking, and I turned to face him. I couldn't place all of the emotions I was seeing on his face, except the anger. "I'm not fucking delusional, Justin. And if you would shut the fuck up and let me speak, we wouldn't be on the verge of not speaking again right now! That's what got us into all this shit in the first place!"

I laughed, but there was no humor in it at all. "Wow! Brian Kinney actually wants to talk? Since when?"

"Since there are some things that need to be discussed. If there weren't, I would have had you flat on your back right now within your jeep with your upturned toes scratching the fabric on the roof. I would have you bent like a pretzel and be fucking you to within an inch of sanity, finely-tailored suit be damned. So fucking tell me what you want from me already, because last night wasn't the fuck enough!" He yelled the last part at me, as if almost willing me to get what he was asking for. I did, but he won't get what he really wants from me in the way he's asking. 

"Fine, Brian. We can be fuckbuddies. It's no secret that we can barely be in close proximity to each other and not fuck at some point- the period after the bashing notwithstanding. Since that's all most people thought I was good for anyway, it stands to reason that you do, too."

"Do not presume to tell me what I think, Justin..."

"I won't. But the problem was really never how you perceived me, was it? It was always how your friends did, how the denizens of Liberty Avenue did, and ultimately, how I eventually perceived myself: As your in-house whore."

"You were never..."

"I'm not done." I paused to look at him, delighted by the surprise I saw momentarily grace his face before his mask of impassivity blanketed his countenance once more. "The bottom line is that I don't allow anyone to fuck me, unless it's you."

"Not even Ethan?"

"Especially not Ethan. In all honesty and if you must know, I don't trust him to know what to do with me like you do. Again, our problems were always vertical unless we were fucking standing up. That said, I'll need to see you periodically to get my needs met. Unless it's about business, we don't need to discuss anything else. And I don't want anyone to know about this. It's one thing for everyone to think that this is all we were about; it's another thing for them to know it. If you can agree to those terms, then we can start tonight."

"What about your boyfriend?"

"This has nothing to do with Ethan, and I would appreciate it if we don't talk about him."

"Why not? From the sounds of everything he's said and I've heard, you and he have had plenty of conversations about you and me. Turnabout is but fair play."

I snickered. "This isn't one of Shakespeare's tragedies, Brian. It doesn't have to be. The bottom line is that for good or ill, you are a fever within me. And until I can exorcise the need, this is the only alternative that I can see that is even remotely reasonable. Anything else would be cause for speculation and expectations; neither one of us have time for those."

"What the fuck is going on with you, Justin? This isn't you," Brian tells me, almost in awe of what I am contemplating doing.

"Let's just say I'm under construction... reconstruction, that is. And I don't need any heavy-handed entanglements while I try to figure shit out. I already have my hands full with one possessive brunet; I don't need them full with another." There, that should tell him all he needs to know.

His cellphone rings, and as soon as he answers, I can hear the whining screech on the other end. He holds the phone away from his ear. I suppose it's to keep from going deaf, but I think even the seagulls flying high above us can hear every single disparaging comment about my character, being broadcasted over the airwaves. At first, I didn't know what he was screaming about until I heard the words ‘Rage', ‘lawsuit', and ‘little shit', all in the same sentence. As I keep listening, I know exactly why Michael is pissed off and I can't help but be gratified by that. 

Apparently while I was visiting Mom's lawyer yesterday, Ted and Melanie were busy looking at all things comic business. I knew that Michael was in breach of contract and I was trying to weigh the pros and cons of calling him on it. I can tell by the look on Brian's face that this was the reason why he met with my mother this morning. I can't help but chuckle at the realization that Michael is finally going to be called on his shit in some way. I can't even say that I feel sad about that right now.

Am I bitter at him? You bet your ass, I am! And unfortunately for him, I've learned a thing or two from being a WASP and the housewives obsession with Ivana Trump when she said, ‘Don't get mad, get everything.' So oh hell yeah, I most certainly will!

Brian  

I'm still listening to Michael screech about how wrong it is for Justin to sue him for breach of contract, as well as threatening him with embezzlement charges. "Well Michael, what did you expect? From the sound of it, you did all the things listed within the document."

"How the fuck can you be on his side, Brian? After all that little shit did, how the fuck can you take his side?!"

I rolled my eyes heavenward. If there really was a God, I will have to ask him why He released the plague of pissed-off Novotnys upon me. I could hear Deb in the background, yelling about everything she did for ‘Sunshine' even as Michael is reiterating his own deeds of good will towards Justin Taylor. I want to tell them both to stop blowing smoke up their own asses. But they wouldn't be able to hear me, and frankly I'm tired of wasting my words.

"What do you expect me to do?" I ask him, before telling him flat out, "You were wrong, Michael. Dead wrong!"

"Look, can't you talk to him or hire a fucking lawyer for me? One that will bury him in court?"

I look down at my phone, unable to believe that he just asked me that. "So it's alright for me to talk to Justin, as long as it will benefit you?"

"Well duhh... didn't I just say that?" Michael retorts, as if his logic is undeniable. This fucking guy... And I'm friends with him?! Best friends? I think not!

"No, Michael. I will not talk to Justin FOR YOU. And I will not hire a lawyer FOR YOU, since I don't believe in wasting my money. You should just pay him what you owe him, and then dissolve the business. I doubt he will let you continually use his blueprint for the comic book, or his design for the website." I reach out and draw Justin to me, running my fingers through his hair. Somehow the anger I feel in speaking to Michael right now, and inadvertently listening to Debbie's rantings in the background, drain away the second I touch him. Has it always been like this?

"How can you ask me to do that, Brian? What will I do for money?! It's not like I'm going back to working at the Crap Emporium again." I hear him huff at the thought. 

"Well that is pretty much your only option, shy of going to court. Which I can and will tell right now, you will lose and have to pay what you owe him plus any court fees."

"Fucking Boy Wonder!" He sneers. "So he gets everything and I'll be left with nothing?!"

"Technically you've already had more than your share, which is what has landed you in this shit in the first place," I say, unable to resist pointing that out. "Michael, paying Justin and selling the business- well what will be left of it- are your only feasible options in which you will not escape totally broke by the end of it."

"Well, couldn't you just pay the kid off for me, and that would take care of it? Then I wouldn't have to lose my store, and Justin would be happy to get anything from you. I mean, you could give the little money-grubber two dollars, and he would take it then run away. He'd just be happy because it came from you."

I look over at Justin, who is about two seconds away from snatching my phone and letting Michael have it with both barrels. I have to stop that from happening. Since Justin's proposal- however indecent it might seem to some people- I have been thinking about all that he was saying, between last night and today. Emmett's revelations and Mother Taylor's observations also factor into what my opinion is of Justin's idea of wanting to keep things between us totally private. Listening to Michael's low opinion of the type of man Justin is, I can't find a good reason to refuse Justin's request.

"Fuck you, Michael. Justin isn't like that, and you know it!" 

"Oh no? He's not, huh? Then where is he? You paid his fucking tuition last year, but is he still with you? No, he isn't! He's with that fucking fiddler as a result of some tantrum he's throwing because you wouldn't bend over and kiss his ass!"

"If I were you, I would spend more time worrying about how you are going to solve YOUR problem. I'm out of it and I intend to remain that way."

"Briaaaaaaannnnn, you can't be serious?! You're really going to make me deal with this when we all know that Justin would do whatever you want with just a word? TELL HIM TO FUCKING DROP THIS, BRIAN!"

"NO!" I yelled back, then disconnected the call. Seconds later, the phone rang again and I ignored the call.

Then I called Cynthia to tell her that the Novotnys and Lindsay were not welcome inside Vanguard's walls. The last thing I need is for them to show up at my office, making a scene. With all of the shit going on at the office regarding my refusal to take on the Stockwell campaign, I'm skating on thin ice as it is- partner in the firm or not. Starting my own firm is looking more and more like a sure thing, instead of the risky possibility it was a mere week ago. The good thing is that I already have an artist in mind for the job, if he's willing to work with me. 

But first, there is a little matter of taking care of some more immediate needs. "I see your point about keeping this between us, Justin."

"After Michael and Deb's tirades, I thought you might," he tells me.

"How long do you want this to go on?"

"I thought I already said."

"Not really."

"Indefinitely."

"Indefinitely?"

He chuckled. "Something wrong with your hearing, Mr. Kinney? Although, I don't doubt there could be after having to endure the Banshee of Liberty Avenue and her offspring."

"Point well taken, Sunshine. But on a serious note, do you really only want to talk about business when we're together?" I watched as the moisture crept into his eyes, before he manfully pushed them back. They still glistened in the sunlight, but not a single tear fell. Strangely, I'm a little saddened by that, and now I understand exactly what Jennifer meant when she said that Justin was closing himself off.

"It's all that I can handle at this moment, Brian. I know that you understand that."

I did, but it doesn't mean that I have to like the fact that I do. This Justin was someone I was going to have to learn all over again. But I would do it if in the end, for good or ill, we will banish every single ghost our former relationship had within it. "You have yourself a deal, Mr. Taylor. I'll see you at the loft at nine."

"I'll be there."

"I know." And with that we parted ways, tacitly agreeing to be each other's secret. But I couldn't help but to wonder how long this version of us would last.