Chapter 8 - Life Alterations.

In my opinion, most people are not very self-aware. We all have this image of ourselves that we hold onto that may, or more often may not, reflect the way others see us. But that imperfect self image is really hard to alter in any substantive way.

For myself, like most people of my acquaintance, my personal self image was formed in my early twenties just as I was coming into my own as an adult. I think that's the same for a lot of people. Who we are when we are first establishing ourselves in the world becomes the baseline for who we will always be, and our mental picture of ourselves from that period is the one that seems to stick in our heads. That's just how we see ourselves no matter how much our outer appearances or our attitudes change.

This is probably another reason why we find it so hard to make real, substantive changes in our lives. We can't see ourselves the way we really are, so how can we be expected to see the way to make a real change? Which isn't to say it can't be done. It's just not easy.

Take me, for example. The image I like to portray is one of elegant, sexy aloofness. I set out to be the prime Stud of Liberty Avenue and did everything in my power to make that image a reality. I made sure to dress the part, act the part, and fuck the part. And, by the time I was twenty one, I'd pretty much succeeded. In the eyes of most of my casual acquaintances, and even a few of my friends, that IS Brian Kinney. And it's still the me I see in my mind when I think about myself, despite the fact that I'm not always that confident and I'm certainly not that young anymore. I also no longer really care that much about maintaining the studly image of someone who fucks his way through life. However, for the longest time I still kept on doing the same things I'd always done because that was how I saw myself. That was the role I'd chosen for myself and my self-worth was tied to that one particular persona.

But, while I was busy maintaining the self image I'd crafted for myself in my twenties, I'd slowly and inexorably been changing without even realizing it. Oh, I still went through all the motions, I was still out on the Avenue almost every night, fucking and sucking my way through life, fully convinced that what I had become was exactly what I wanted to be. But behind the scenes, something inside me had already started to change without me even being aware of it.

Which is why I fought the cognitive dissonance between the me I saw in my head and the me I was becoming so hard for so long . . .

.:G:. .:G:. .:G:. .:G:. .:G:.

Brian's alarm went off at six thirty Tuesday morning as usual, alerting him to the fact that today was a regular work day.

Well, maybe not a REGULAR workday, since he didn't usually have a visiting midget to deal with most days. But there was no way Brian could skip out on work that day. He had a meeting scheduled in the afternoon with a very important new client and nobody else was prepped on the presentation they were supposed to make. So it seemed like it was going to be ‘Bring Your Midget To Work Day' at Kinnetik, unless he could make some other arrangements fast.

But, before that, Brian would have to get something sorted out with social services about finding Gus' mother and preferably sending him back to her. He hoped that she hadn't already hightailed it back to Toronto or something. That would definitely mess things up even more than they already were. Gus was a good kid and didn't need that kind of shit from his mother. Brian still couldn't fathom what had possessed Lindsey to abandon Gus on his doorstep like that. She had a lot of explaining to do and owed an apology to both Gus and Brian. Whether or not he really was Gus' father, Brian wasn't going to let her leave with Gus until she admitted that what she'd done was wrong and promised that she wouldn't do something like that ever again.

Brian rolled out of bed, trying not to disturb a still slumbering Gus and headed to the kitchen. He definitely needed to have some coffee before he made the call to Child Protective Services. He wanted to be completely awake and coherent when he called so he could explain himself fully.

Two cups of coffee later, Brian was scrolling through listings on his phone, about to call Child Protective Services, when his cell rang and the caller ID showed it was Carl.

"Morning, Detective. What has you calling so early, Carl?" Brian answered, a little wary about this call.

"Morning, Brian. I just got off the night shift down at the precinct and I wanted to get you before you headed out for the day," Carl sounded concerned and cop-ish. "Have you made the call to CPS about Gus yet?"

"No, I was just about to do that after I got some coffee, why?"

"Well, I hope you don't mind, but I talked to a buddy of mine about your situation last night. Paul works on the Special Victims Unit so he deals with this stuff a lot and knows folks down at CPS," Carl advised. "Paul said that they would treat this kind of thing as Child Endangerment and it could be pretty serious. At best it's a misdemeanor and the mother could get up to five years in prison. If they find other factors, like abuse or a pattern of neglect, it could even be prosecuted as a felony. Either way, the mom's in a heap of trouble. Did you figure out anything more about this woman yet?"

"Not much. I did get a name - Lindsey Peterson - but I have no idea how to reach her," Brian admitted. "If it's the Lindsey Peterson I'm thinking of, she's an alum of Pitts, so we might be able to track her down through the University. But all Gus could tell me was that they were from Toronto." Brian hesitated for a moment, but then decided he needed to tell Carl the rest of what he suspected and get his input on it all. "As for those ‘other factors' . . . I don't think the Lindsey I knew would ever abuse her son, but I have my doubts about a friend of hers that Gus has said a few things about. He's made a couple of comments about the guy Lindsey is currently seeing that worry me."

"Hmmm. That doesn't sound good. If that proves true, and CPS finds that she's exposed the kid to someone who's potentially abusive, the mother could have her parental rights stripped completely. There's no way they're going to give Gus back to her with those kinds of accusations hanging out there. Not until they've investigated it thoroughly," Carl responded, sounding even more worried. "So, have you come to any conclusions about whether or not you're his father?" Brian made a noise as if he was going to jump in and deny it again, but Carl hurried on so as to stop him. "I'm only asking because, even if CPS can find this Lindsey character, it sounds to me like they won't let Gus go back to her. At least not right away. Which means the kid's going to wind up in the foster system unless he has a father who's willing to take care of him for the foreseeable future . . ."

"Shit, Carl!" Brian grumbled, slamming his coffee cup down on the counter so hard in his frustration that it sloshed all over the place. "I don't know if he's mine or not. I do remember Lindsey from college and we did meet again, briefly, a few years back at an alumni thing, but I honestly can't remember what happened that night. And it's not like I'd ever fuck a woman by choice. But if I was so completely wasted that I blacked out, well . . . Who the fuck knows? I suppose it's possible."

"Well, Brian, if there's even the slightest chance you might want to keep the kid if he does turn out to be yours, I wouldn't tell CPS that you're not sure. Especially not if you want to keep him while they finish their investigation of the mother," Carl explained. "I know you're probably not thrilled with the idea of taking on a parenting role for a five year old right now, but the poor kid really doesn't deserve to be thrown into system. Not that there aren't good foster parents out there, but there are also some not so good ones, and the whole process of getting shunted around from one home to another - which happens way more than it should, in my opinion - can be tough on a kid. If you don't step up and take responsibility for Gus right from the start, I'm afraid CPS will take Gus into custody immediately and you won't be allowed any contact at all with him until everything is settled. If that happens, even if you do eventually find out he's yours and you decide you want him, you may have a problem getting him back. At that point it would probably have to go to court and it could take months."

"Well . . . Fuck!" Brian cursed both the system and his own rotten luck in one breath. "I don't want the kid to get thrown into some group home or a bad foster placement, Carl. But even if I am the father, I'm not set up to take care of a kid full time. I'd be happy to help Lindsey out - if we can find her - and I wouldn't mind spending time with Gus, who's a pretty great kid, all things considered, but shouldn't he be with his mother? She should be the one taking care of him, right? I mean, I never agreed to this shit. I'm not prepared to take care of a kid right now."

Carl couldn't stop himself from laughing. "I hate to break it to you, Son, but I have never yet met a parent who was actually prepared for the job. You're going to have to learn as you go just like all the rest of us. Don't worry. As long as you don't lose your sense of humor, you'll do fine."

"Have you met me, Carl? I don't HAVE a fucking sense of humor," Brian growled into the phone, getting even more angry when the only response from the other end of the line was more laughter and then a dial tone as Carl hung up.  

"B'ine? Why's you growling? Is you mad at me? I's twying real hard to be good," Gus asked quietly, hoping not to upset Brian.

"No, Gus, it's not you. It's just grownup stuff."

"Okay, B'ine, but don't be growly anymore. It makes me all scary and I don't like to be scary. Kay?" Gus stood there at Brian's feet holding his Leather Bear up in front of him, almost like a shield.

"Sorry about that, Midget," Brian apologized, ruffling the kid's hair affectionately. "I'll try not to yell anymore. But even if I do, you don't need to worry, okay?" The boy still looked a bit worried, so Brian opted for changing the subject. "How about you head up to the bathroom and get cleaned up before we have breakfast?"

"I's already cwean, B'ine. I din't pee in the bed this time. I just hugged my bear and he keepted the bad stuffs away."

"I'm glad to hear that, Kiddo. But you still need to get cleaned up every morning so you can start the day fresh, right? Besides, I need to make a phone call before I can get your breakfast started. So, off you go, okay?"

"Okay B'ine. I'll get washded real good," Gus answered heading for the bathroom with his bear dragging along on the floor behind him.

Brian shook his head at the adorable sight. He felt like he was turning into a fucking lesbian even thinking the word ‘adorable', but there was no help for it. The kid was just too fucking cute.

Now, while Gus was off taking his shower, Brian could call CPS. He'd have to make it fast though. He didn't want the kid to overhear his conversation and get upset all over again. He just hoped that the authorities could find Lindsey soon and that there wouldn't be any hassle about getting Gus back to her.

.:G:. .:G:. .:G:. .:G:. .:G:.

Brian Kinney: So, does a text count?

J. Taylor: Count as what, Big Guy?

B: Instead of calling.

J: No. Actual verbal communications are required to ‘count'.

B: Twat!

J: If that's your idea of flirting, try again!

B: I should get at least some credit here. Besides, I can't call. I'm in a meeting.

J: Careful. You'll get fired.  

B: Not if I'm the boss.

J: Nice. You didn't say what you do.

B: Advertising.

J: Impressive.

B: Boring. At least right now. Finance meeting.

J: You should probably pay attention then.

B: Spoilsport.

J: Sorry.

B: Dinner tomorrow to make it up to me?

J: You're gonna have to actually call if you wanna ask me to dinner.

B: You're determined to make this hard, aren't you?

J: I thought you'd like things hard, Big Guy.

.:G:. .:G:. .:G:. .:G:. .:G:.

"Here, B'ine! I makeded this for you!" Gus interrupted Brian's texting, enthusiastically shoving a wad of paper in front of his face.

"Um . . . Okay . . . So, what the fuuuuuudge is it?" Brian asked, examining the mass of copy paper that had been scribbled on with different colored pens, colored with highlighter markers, folded multiple times, hole punched at various places and then stapled together haphazardly into a roughly cylindrical shape, before being adorned with several ‘Sign Here' stickers and post-its.

"Iss a Love Letter for you to give to your Booty!" Gus insisted. "It'll makes him fall in love wid you and then he'll kiss you and make you not be awl growly like da Beast and you can live happy ever after."

A harassed looking Cynthia came running in at that point, stopping and sighing when she located Gus. "Sorry, Brian. I was on the phone and when I looked up Gus was gone . . ."

Before she could finish explaining, the phone in the outer office started ringing again and Cynthia groaned. Brian had never seen his highly capable and always organized assistant look this harried and distressed. She'd dealt with angry clients, belligerent vendors, even the occasional harassing creditor back when Kinnetik was first getting started, but she'd never looked THIS unhinged before. Of course, she'd never before had to try and watch a rambunctious five year old while running an up and coming advertising office either.

"It's okay, Cynthia. The Midget can hang out in here for a while. Go get the phone," Brian directed.

Cynthia gratefully fled the scene.

"Thanks, Midget. I'm sure Beauty will love it," Brian said, taking the boy's Love Note and placing it on the far corner of his desk. "Where'd your coloring book go? I thought you were going to color something for Molly?"

"I gotted bored," Gus declared with a world-weary sigh that was so Brian that anyone who knew the man would instantly recognize it. "But then Cynnia letted me pway wid all the neat toys you gots here an I maded your Love Letter. It was fun. I kin shows up how to make one too, B'ine. Want me to shows you?"

"Not right now, Buddy." Brian grabbed hold of the sleeve of Gus' shirt before the preschooler could completely escape out the door to go gather his ‘toys'. "Theodore and I are trying to have a meeting."

"You might as well go make Love Letters, Boss," Ted chuffed as he began to gather his papers together and get to his feet. "You weren't paying attention to anything I was saying anyway."

"Sit your ass back down, Schmidt. We're not done yet. Just give me a sec," Brian ordered before turning back to deal with Gus. "Come here, Midget." Brian asked and Gus crawled up on his lap. "I know it's kinda boring here, kiddo. I'm bored this morning too," Brian glared over Gus' head at his accountant. "But I've still got to get some work done, so I need you to be as good as you can be for a little bit longer okay? You can sit here with me and color in your coloring book or quietly play with your cars while Ted and I talk. And if you're really good, we'll do something fun for lunch. How's that sound?"

"It sounds like you've turned into my grandmother," Ted teased with a chuckle.

"Yeah, well you LOOK like my granny, Theodore, so I wouldn't talk if I were you," Brian shot back, wishing he could say something a little more pointed, but hampered by the five year old in his lap who probably shouldn't be exposed to Brian's usual potty mouth. "And I don't pay you to run your mouth, so . . ."

*PING*

Brian's phone emitted the tone which indicated he'd received a new text. An exasperated Brian shook his head but picked up the device and quickly tapped at the screen anyway. As soon as the screen lit up, his face lit up too. He immediately started tapping at the keyboard.

Ted once again started to stand.

"Sit, Theodore! This will only take thirty seconds and then you can go back to boring me again."

.:G:. .:G:. .:G:. .:G:. .:G:.

J: Brian? . . . Did I lose you?

B: Sorry, Twat. Midget interruption.

J: I thought you were at work?

B: I am. Midget came with today.

J: You're either very brave or very foolhardy, Big Guy.

B: Both, I think. He's been busy making arts and crafts projects for you using all my office supplies.

J: For me? Cool. I love presents! Especially art work.

B: I'll give it to you on tomorrow when you have dinner with me.

J: You're still gonna have to call, Big Guy.

B: Damn, thought I could bribe you with Midget Art.

J: Nope. I'm not THAT easy.

B: Fine. Make sure your phone is on and charged tonight.

J: It's a date.

B: It's a phone call. I don't do dates.

J: Whatever you have to tell yourself, Big Guy. ;)

B: Later, Twat.

J: Later!

.:G:. .:G:. .:G:. .:G:. .:G:.

Brian closed the text messaging app and put the phone down on his desk. Ted noted that his boss was still smiling and there was an unfamiliar twinkle in the hazel eyes. It seemed that, perhaps, more was going on with his old friend than anyone suspected. Not only had he turned into Mr. Mom overnight, but he apparently had a secret texting buddy now too? None of which was at ALL like the Brian Kinney people thought they knew. Stranger and stranger.

"Do you gots games on your phone, B'ine?" Gus grabbed at the phone he'd just laid aside. "Mommy has funny games on her phone that she letted me pway sometimes."

"Uh, no, Gus. I don't have any games on there." Brian answered, putting the phone in his pocket.

"Brian, if I might make a suggestion," Ted ventured, bravely taking his fate in his hands even though his advice might anger his sometimes tetchy employer. "You're never going to get anything done around here like this." Ted pointed to the child still perched on Brian's knee and then hurried on before Brian could stop him. "But I happen to know that Emmett has the day off AND he's got experience babysitting for all his nieces and nephews. If you begged him hard enough, he might be willing to take your Mini Me for the day."

"I don't beg, Theodore."

"Brian, we've got a problem," Cynthia tottered in with her cell phone in one hand and a steno notebook in the other. "The photographer needs you across town on the McGruder shoot - something about equipment malfunctions. Also, Jasmine Teas wants to move their meeting up to one so they can make their flight back to Tampa. And Leo Brown just called - he wants to schedule a conference call for four."

Just then Gus, who'd been idly kicking his dangling feet while perched on Brian's lap, managed a particularly strong kick that connected with the leg of the executive's elegant glass-topped desk, rocking the entire structure and sending Brian's marble pen holder crashing to the floor.

"Fine," Brian sighed. "Ted, call Honeycutt. Tell him I'll beg, provided he swears a blood oath not to reveal that fact to another living soul." Ted ran out the door already lifting his phone to his ear. "Cynthia, tell the fuuuudging photographer I'll be there in forty-five minutes and he better have whatever it is fixed by then or he's fired. Tell Jasmine Teas we can do it at one-thirty, no earlier, and make sure the car service knows to be here, standing by, to get them to the airport as soon as we finish. And go ahead and schedule Leo for no more than a half hour but let him know if he's calling to change the layout for the Christmas ads - again - it'll cost him an extra hundred grand." Cynthia nodded and sped off as well.

Then Brian turned to look at a cowering, scared-looking Midget.

"I's sowwy, B'ine. I din't mean ta break the pen thingy. Pwease don't be growly at me," the child pleaded with tears in his eyes.

"Don't worry about it, Gus," Brian assured him right away. "I've been meaning to upgrade all my desk accessories to stainless steel anyway. Marble is so last year. Don't you agree?" Gus looked confused but nodded anyway. "Now, how do you feel about spending the day with Aunty Em . . ."

.:G:. .:G:. .:G:. .:G:. .:G:.

When Brian's day was finally finished he drove to Em's to collect the midget and head home. Hopefully he could get him to sleep early so he could have an interesting conversation with Justin.

Collecting Gus, Leather Bear, and his new backpack, they headed to the loft after picking up chinese food for dinner. The chinese food was a compromise. Brian had promised Gus they could have a takeout dinner tonight and Gus had tried to get Burger King, which Brian despised. Brian had promised Gus he would teach him to use chopsticks if they could have chinese instead. Gus agreed to the change, telling Brian, "I really like when you teaches me stuffs."

When they got to the loft, Gus went to wash his hands while Brian set up the table for dinner, putting out his fancy, carved chopsticks and setting out bowls of food for dinner. First he sat Gus on his lap, realizing it would be easier showing the child by doing it hands-on. Gus took to it quickly, managing to hold the chopsticks by himself and eating without help after only a few minutes. Maybe Gus could teach Michael, although Michael still couldn't manage to hold even a standard issue fork correctly, so that didn't seem likely. When he seemed to have it down pat, Brian moved Gus to his own chair and they enjoyed their meal while Gus prattled on about all the fun things he'd done that day with the Amazing Aunty Em.

After cleaning up following dinner, Gus pulled off his shoes, showing Brian his sparkly purple toenails, then pulled out the bottle of polish from his backpack.

Seeing Brian roll his eyes Gus explained, "Auntie Em said it takes more courage to wear nail polish for a week than wearin' a fake suit for yur whole lifes. Then he said that's a ‘portant thing to amember. So he painted my nails so's I could have courage too."

"Well, Midget, Auntie Em does have a point there."

"Kin I paint yur nails B'ine? Then you can haves courage jus like me and Aunty Em. Pwease B'ine. Pwease," Gus asked, blinking his large hazel eyes and holding up the small bottle of polish that Emmett had sent home with him for touch ups.

Brian's first reaction was to say that he wasn't that kind of fag, but seeing the hopeful look on his favorite midget, he held his tongue and acquiesced. It's not like anyone would see it, and he loved seeing the little boy smile. Besides, he couldn't let Honeycutt show him up in the courage department, could he? Brian would just have to make sure he removed it before he went to the gym again.

"Sure, Midget, why not. Let's go do it in the bathroom, though, I don't want polish all over my floors." Brian answered, carrying a chair into the bathroom.

Brian covered the chair with a towel and had Gus sit on it, while he sat on the counter. Putting his feet in Gus' lap, Brian watched while Gus studiously painted Brian's toenails, his little pink tongue poking out as he concentrated on not messing it up. Once he was finished, Brian looked at his nails.

"Midget, they look perfect," Brian declared, wiggling the sparkling purple toes and earning himself a beaming smile from Gus that made his heart do floppy things again. "Keep this up and you're headed for a distinguished career at a nearby nail spa, kiddo."

And so, Brian Kinney spent yet another night in, getting his toenails painted rather than curling the toes of a willing trick . . . and he found he didn't really care all that much either.