CHAPTER 65: SETTING THE RECORD STRAIGHT Part 2… PREP WORK

KIP:

“Howard, I’ve already told you ‘no’. I’m not trying to lose this job since it’s the only one I interviewed for that will allow me to stay in the area.” I blow out an exasperated breath at the man standing before me, along with his cousin from New York.

“But Kip, it’s just one interview. Besides, if things are as bad as you’ve said, why would you want to stay here in good ol’ Pittsburgh anyway?”

“Better the devil you know…” I mutter.

The truth is that I need to stay close to this town for now. Thanks to aligning myself with Novotny for a brief time to get Taylor out of the way, there are a lot of people not exactly happy with me at the moment. Besides, with Lindsay and Michael threatening my life on two separate occasions I figured that remaining local and visible would be my best bet for survival. Since I’m always either working or somewhere else pretty well-known publicly until it’s time for me to sleep at night, I figure that the patrons of the various establishments I frequent would notice my absence should I disappear. My life has become so routine to the people who actually DO talk to me, that they can mark a calendar and set a watch by my comings and goings. But as lonely as I am, I’m still better off than Jason Kemp, who was the last one I know of that crossed Michael and Lindsay. No one knows of the connection between the two of them and Reichert except me, and I’m NOT talking!

“Come on, Kip. Don’t you want your life back? I know I do,” Howard tries to wheedle me, but I just shake my head.

“It looks like we’re going to have to find another source, Howie. I have an interview scheduled within the next hour, so unless you have another idea…” the stranger tells him. He looks familiar to me, but I really don’t know how or why exactly. All I know is that I’ve seen him before.

“I really thought that Kip would be open to getting his story out there, and reclaiming his life, but…”

I interrupt, because both Howard Bellweather and I know that if it ever came down to me or him, he would choose himself. So he is NOT about to make me feel guilty for choosing my own self-preservation! “Let’s not pretend this is about me at all; this is all about YOU! Besides, I can’t help you verify any of the information you’ve received from the asshole’s attorney. All I know is what everyone else seems to,” I lie smoothly. The truth is I know A LOT MORE, but I want to keep the little bit of life I’m living right now. Messing with Brian and Justin in any form has proven time after time that it is detrimental to my mental health.

“My avenue of verification has just been recently closed to me, as well. Gardner was supposed to pass along some information this afternoon, but after the last time I went with somebody’s word, I got blackballed within the industry. Unless…”

“NO!” his companion exclaims.

“But Georgie, you could ask them some pretty direct questions for me in regards to what I reported before…”

“No. Since what you printed was based on false information and the ravings of a truly delinquent source. As much as I want to help you regain your stature as a journalist, Howie, I will not risk my own.”

“I need to get back to work,” I mutter, leaving the stranger and a despondent Howie to argue among themselves without my input. And that’s when it hits me who the stranger really is… George Bell of 20/20!

TEMP HOUSE

BRIAN:

“Jus… Jus… Jus…,” Gus chants on our way back to the living room where Justin, the Petersons, and Mel are seated. “Jus… Jus… Jus!”

“Okay, okay, Gus. I’m taking you to him right now,” I tell the squirming little boy in my arms. I can’t help but smile that of all the people who love him in this house right now, he wants his Jus.

It’s nice to hear him talk though. We’d all been kind of worried when his speech seemed to be delayed. Even now, he has some issues, but Mel has been on top of it for a while now and hired a speech therapist named Veronica. When Mel, Justin, or I can’t be there, Dusty and Marie make sure that he gets the therapy three times a week. And surprisingly, it’s been Hunter who has been the godsend. Even if we can’t exactly understand what Gus says sometimes, it’s Hunter who gets him talking the most. They have nonsensical conversations, where they both end up laughing hysterically. But by the end of Hunter’s time here, Gus has picked up at least seven new words and pronounces them just about clearly. It just proves that there is a magic about Hunter, which has reached us all on a very deep level. It first happened with Ben and has somehow filtered down to the rest of us.

I walk into the living room to hear the tail-end of the conversation which has been going on in my absence. So Ron Peterson is joining the conglomerate? What fresh hell is this?! “Justin…”

“Jus… Jus… Jus…,” the chanting and squirming continue as Gus spots his number one fan. “Down, Da-yee.”

“Da-ddy, Gus,” I correct him gently, before following my order from the impatient toddler.

Gus walks over to Justin, raising his arms to be picked up. Justin smiles and obliges, asking if Gus had a good nap. It’s always an event to watch the two of them together, and I’m struck again by how great Justin is with him. I can honestly say that if not for that young man, I might have made the single biggest mistake of my life by adhering to what Lindsay wanted, which was me completely out of my son’s life. I think it was her way of punishing me somehow. After Mel filled me and Justin in on what Sam Auerbach said in court, there isn’t a doubt in my mind that the idea to sign over my rights, and the million dollar insurance policy were Lindsay’s ideas, even though she used Mel as her mouthpiece. Now, that doesn’t mean that all of Mel’s barbs didn’t hit their mark and hurt like hell sometimes, but the fact that Lindsay led her to think that way about me, hurt worse than one could imagine. But now things between Mel and I are good, and Lindsay is out of the picture permanently, so I can live with all that’s happened thus far.

“So what is this I hear about you joining our conglomerate, Ron?” I turn my eyes to the man standing there watching Justin and Gus as if his life depended on it. There’s a longing look on his face, but also regret.

“You’ve heard right, Brian,” Ron answers me, never allowing his eyes to look away from his grandson and my lover. “After some thought, and Justin’s input, Nancy and I agree that it’s a wise decision. Things at my office have become… difficult, to say the least.”

“He’s in a situation like Donaldson, Brian, except that Kosgrove and Co. haven’t asked for his resignation yet,” Mel fills me in. “So it was Justin’s suggestion that Ron be proactive instead of letting them force him out. I can’t say I disagree with him.”

I nod at Mel’s explanation, but I trust Ronald Peterson just fraction more than I do Lindsay as of this moment, so… “Do you understand the risk factor and possible returns? Whereas you’re established at your current business, in this venture you’ll be flying blind. You will be required to meet the obligations, the same as everyone else. I won’t support you financially until your business turns a profit.”

“I understand, Brian, and I would never ask you to. If it helps, since I cut off the Get-Lindsay-Out-of-My-Face fund, and started the Lindsay-FUCK-OFF fund instead, Nancy and I have a healthy cushion to take on this venture, whether my current clients follow me or not. We’ll be able to meet the obligation to Kinnetik Enterprises without batting an eyelash. I think Lynette’s husband, Robert, who is also an investment banker will jump at the chance to partner with me, as will Lynette and Nancy.”

“Lynette and Nancy?” I frown, questioningly. I thought they were just socialites.

“Indeed, Brian,” Nancy answers me. “As quiet as it’s kept, both Lynette and I have business degrees- mine in management and hers is in finance. Although she’s left each of her marriages with a tidy sum, she held onto half of the fortunes in cash and invested the rest. It’s why we’re sure this marriage will last since she really did marry Roger for love. In fact, she’s more well off than he is, and he goes to work every day. It’s another thing Lindsay couldn’t stand about her sister.”

“And you? What’s your real motive for sanctioning this deal?” I narrow my eyes at her.

“My reasoning is simple, and before you assume, it has nothing to do with Lindsay. You all have opened my eyes about her machinations, and I’m truly appalled by them. I may not always be honest, or even an open book in my motives- as you call them- but I would never EVER condone the things she’s done. Can I be ruthless in business, and meet my own ends? Absolutely, but NEVER at the expense of someone’s life or their livelihood. Like Justin, I believe in operating in excellence, but most of all integrity. The reason why I think this is a great idea is that it’s something Ron and I have talked about many times over the years. We just didn’t know the proper way to go about doing it. And if I may be so blunt to say so…”

“Oh, by all means, please do,” I encourage her.

She nods and continues. “Any men who can take a gamble the way you and Justin have in order to, not only preserve your way of life but the lives of those within your community, no matter the risk to yourselves, are men I don’t bat an eyelash at partnering with. It’s not that I agree wholeheartedly with your lifestyles, but that I recognize talent, ambition, and a never-say-die attitude when I see one. As I said, if I were a betting lady, I would take a chance on the house the Taylor-Kinneys are building.”

“Forgive me for my skepticism, but you and Ronald are notoriously conservative. How are you going to feel surrounded by gay men and women every day? We won’t tolerate discrimination in any form within our company or from those within the conglomerate. We’re a pretty diverse group as it is…”

“All with green money,” she retorts. “At the end of the day, that’s the ONLY real color that matters. And if it’s worked right, it can be one hell of an aphrodisiac, too. Just saying.” She smirks, and I can’t help but snicker.

“She’s right, Brian. It’s part of the reason I didn’t mind shaking my ass all up and through the diner, working as a waiter. The tips were phenomenal,” my Twat says, mischievous grin firmly in place.

I shake my head at his antics. “Oh alright, welcome aboard, you two. As long as Justin has explained the situation and stipulations of joining the conglomerate to you, I’m willing to stop grilling you.”

“I have, dear,” Justin says.

“You’ll pay for that one later.”

“I’m counting on it, plus my commission for adding to our growing empire.”

“UGH! You two are at it again?!” Cynthia says, walking in. “Do you never stop?”

“NOPE!” Justin and I yell joyously, as Mel joins in, piteously.

“Why should we? We hot, we’re hung, we have…”

“Huge egos,” Mel cuts off my ensuing speech.

Cynthia snickers. “I came to tell you that Glenda has dinner ready and wants you all to get your fine behinds to the table- her words, not mine. Dessert is reserved for after the interviews, providing you keep your composure, Brian. She mentioned you specifically; I wonder why that is.”

“It can only mean one thing, which I smell baking right now,” I answer, closing my eyes and inhaling.

“Pineapple coffee cake,” Mel and Justin echo dreamily before Justin adds. “And this time, Brian, you WILL allow us to have more than the one piece each you think we’re allotted!”

“Brian, I never took you for a man who overindulged in sweets,” Nancy snickers at the exchange.

“Just wait until you taste it,” Mel informs her. “If it were up to Brian, Glenda would live here just so she could bake it for him every day.” I stick my tongue out childishly at her, and catch the throw pillow she launched at me for my actions.

There’s lots of jibing and ribbing on our way to the large table set up and adorned for royalty in the dining room. I’m amazed at what Vic, Em, and Glenda have been able to put together on such short notice. Hell, it wasn’t even planned that we would have something which is seriously resembling a dinner party. The talk quickly turned to the coming interviews, when I notice another lady at the table. When I ask who she is, she just smiles before answering.

“Thorne sent me. I’m Katherine Jenkins, but you know me as Jinx.”

“Jinx?” Ronald asks. “There’s only one person I know associated with the last name Thorne.”

Jinx smiles. “It’s a pleasure to finally make your acquaintance, Mr. Peterson. We’ve spoken many times over the years.”

“That we have. Jared has certainly been doing well for himself with the fortune his father left him.”

“You know Thorne? How?” Justin asks.

“I was his father’s investment banker before he passed some years ago while I was still with Merrill Lynch. In fact, he was one of my first major clients, and in a sense, helped me to make a name for myself within the financial planning business.”

“But Thorne didn’t inherit the business as a conglomerate, did he?”

Jinx answers, “No. At first, it was just the paper goods company left to his father by his grandmother’s side of the family. Over time, Jared decided to expand out and began collecting companies within the same industry who were in financial trouble. So that area of the business grew by leaps and bounds. At first, he was having jitters about growing too fast, too soon, but seemed to settle into himself very quickly…”

“I know the feeling,” Justin mutters, and I can’t help but smile, remembering the conversation we had earlier this afternoon. I was about to remind him of how I set his mind at ease earlier, but Jinx caught the comment though.

“No need to worry unduly, Justin. You and Brian were made for greatness. I’ve been with Thorne since the beginning of his career so I know the type very well. Considering where he started versus where you and Brian are, I’d say that even though the situations are a bit different, that you are on the right track. Don’t let the fast track scare you. Besides, if Thorne didn’t believe in you and Brian, I wouldn’t be sitting here. He recognizes potential and likes to cultivate it. He also likes to see those he considers friends become successful the right way. He doesn’t dwell in mediocrity.”

“That’s always been mine and Justin’s motto,” I say while reassuring Justin at the same time.

Justin nods in acknowledgment. “So, first we conquer these invasive looks into our lives, and then we go on with business as usual until the trials come up.”

“You guys may have to postpone your trip to California for a bit though. I know that the D.A. got the go-ahead to search the house Michael bought,” Emmett informs us.

“That was quick,” I comment, not really surprised.

“It was, and it was based on Brandon’s recommendation that they move quickly. We don’t know who else Michael knows, and we all know how congenial he can seem to people, even if he’s anything but. Which brings me to another conversation that I have to have with the three of you.” Emmett sighs, and I know that I’m not going to like what I’m about to hear. “I’ve decided to forgive Deb- not wholly- but to start small, by at least talking to her.”

“Why? After all she’s done…”

“It’s something that Vic said to me a while ago about forgiveness. However, mostly it’s because she went to Michael’s preliminary hearing this morning. She came into Alex and Stephen’s house looking as if she’d been shot. I guess she got a real bomb dropped on her, finding out just how fucked up her baby really is.”

“I swear, I continue to wonder how none of us noticed any of these problems with them during these last few years,” Mel says. “I mean, we either lived with them or they were constantly in our faces for one reason or another. It really makes me second guess everything I believe of people in general.”

“No, Mel, you can’t do that,” Justin tells her. “That’s exactly what I think they were trying to achieve. I mean, let’s examine their motives closely for a minute. They took two people- all of us really- and twisted us emotionally for their own purposes, but why? I could understand if we all were just naive folks, but none of us are. In fact, I believe it was their God-complex working overtime in every facet of their lives. And when they proved themselves to be just as fallible as the rest of us, it kept angering them. So what did they do? They would pretend to be helpless, using our own capabilities and internal wills to succeed against us, and then gloat to themselves how they manipulated us into being their little minions in whatever capacity they wanted at the moment. We were just being who we are naturally: a group of movers and shakers, a group of problem-solvers and innovators, a group of people with integrity and intelligence. In their minds, they should have broken us in so many ways, and yet they weren’t able to. They still aren’t able to get us to bend to their wills unless we want to, or unless we saw the bigger picture of why we should let them have their way this time, instead of every time. The fault never lay within us; only them. And I mean, ALL of them.”

Ted clears his throat. I can tell he is about ready to burst with whatever it is he wants to say. Looking at Dale briefly, I notice the almost imperceptible nod the other man throws his way. Ted nods back before turning to my partner. “Justin, I think a hearty congratulations is in order.”

“Congratulations? What for?” Justin asks, confused. Well, that makes two of us.

“Your former dean called the office this afternoon before… well before Dale and I left for the afternoon.” The tell-tale blush creeps up his cheeks, and I’m hard pressed not to laugh at his total recall of what Justin and I walked in on. Clearing his throat again, he continues. “It appears that Dean Rika Jackson has shopped your idea for an adult coloring book around, and you have a meeting with Applique Art and Google at a time to be determined at your convenience while you are visiting the west coast.”

“Google, I’m familiar with but... ‘Applique Art’?” I ask.

“One of the most premiere arts and crafts supply companies out there. Currently, they are experimenting with something called Diamond painting.”

“I’ve heard of that,” Daphne adds. “They only have a few designs so far, which uses a specific type of pen, and these tiny beads. I think they have some kind of adhesive on the canvas paper which keeps them in place, although I have seen my friend’s mom use a rolling pen of some sort to set the beads in place after the work is completed. I’ve only seen it done once or twice. September’s mom likes to do them, Justin.”

Ted nods. “I’m pretty sure they would like for Justin to add to their inventory. It’s becoming a very popular pastime, especially in rehab centers. Sometimes going outside for an extended period of time is impossible. The temptation to leave can get to be too much, and you’re fighting the urges to escape, both physically and mentally. So they use it as a form of therapy and recreation for patients on those really tough days,” Ted informs us. “I did some research online, trying to gauge the supply and demand thus far since it’s a fairly new craze. It turns out that arts and crafts enthusiasts are raving about being able to create art worthy of a museum without having the talent to do it. It sort of mimics the color-by-numbers method we all favored as children. I remember trying it at the rehab, and it is actually pretty relaxing since it gives the mind a break from thinking. I didn’t finish the one I was working on, but I certainly wouldn’t mind trying my hand at it again.”

Justin laughs and then shakes his head in disbelief. “I can’t believe it. She was actually serious?”

“Apparently. Since she said that she was excited about the prospect of seeing you exceed beyond everyone’s wildest imaginations. She said that she wanted you to make the biggest fucking success of it that you can, and then do even better.”

Justin is still smiling about it. “Yeah, she would certainly say something like that. Dean Jackson was adamantly opposed to me being expelled from PIFA because of my political views. She sat in that cursed board meeting, silently cheering me on as I told them that I wouldn’t apologize to Vance and Stockwell since doing so would wholeheartedly go against my beliefs in my civil rights. I also told them that them insisting that I do so violated my constitutional rights to peacefully protest, not to mention that it negated my freedom of speech. They didn’t like that they were dealing with an educated young man, I suppose. I know we talked about it, Brian, but as I sat in that chair in front of those condescending, conservative jackasses, I just couldn’t bring myself to lie and say that I was sorry when I sure as fuck wasn’t. I’m still not. I’m also not saying that all conservatives are like that lot, but you could smell the bigotry coming off of them. So no, I wasn’t going to give them what they were demanding, simply for the sake of being taught by those who haven’t managed to do anything other than teach. I could also tell that if they had their way, not even Rika Jackson would have been at the table. However, since she’s done shows all around the world, it more than qualified her to determine the talent pool of the school as a board member. They don’t like her, but she has earned their grudging respect.”

“Well, you are also about to earn theirs and prove their negation of you wrong in so many ways, Justin. If Applique and Google pick this up, you’re going to be worth so much more financially than every single board member except perhaps Rika Jackson, herself. I looked up her resume online as she was speaking to Ted about you. She and I are pretty sure that other companies will be knocking at your door for new designs as well,” Dale interjected.

“Wait? What? An adult coloring book?” I ask, sitting there in disbelief. “Sunshine, what are they talking about?”

He smiles at me, and then at the rest of the occupants at the table. “It just started out as the weirdest, off the wall thought I’ve ever had. It was the day after you saw me at Woody’s after that… trip to Harrisburg, which opened my eyes to bullshit words versus the hard-cold truth of reality. Anyway, I was sitting in the cafe away from campus. I liked to go there between classes to be waited on, instead of actually being a waiter for a change. While I was sitting there, I kept thinking of how fucked up my life had become and wishing that I could go back to a time in my life when all I wanted was my crayons, a coloring book, and a fort made out of bed sheets. I didn’t realize that I was being watched until Rika- as she insisted I call her away from campus- came and sat down uninvited, across from me. We talked and joked about what I was doing when she asked me if I would be interested in doing one for her. At first, it was just a series of mosaics, and landscapes. But as I was drawing, it became anything that caught my attention. Strangely, I found that it was also strengthening my hand, even though I still have difficulty when it’s overworked. Before I knew it, I had over two hundred pages of work. So I had it binded by a friend of mine at the Institute and gift-wrapped as a way to thank her for believing in my talent on a day when I was questioning every little thing about my life.”

“So she shopped it around?”

Justin smiles again. “I didn’t expect her to; just thought she was going to use it at a party that she was going to with about eleven of her closest friends. All of them are pretty successful so it would have been a good way for them all to relax, which was my intention in the first place. Since Rika is the only artist, and the most successful professor professionally that I had at PIFA, she thought it would be a good way for them to feel like artists even though they all can’t draw worth a damn- her words, not mine.” He laughs. “But I never thought that she would actually shop it around.”

“Well if it means anything, one of the women at the party she attended is a top-level exec at Google. According to Ms. Jackson, she was beyond impressed with your work, and the fact that you numbered it in a way that you would have painted it. She then called her friend at Applique, who was unable to attend this year’s reunion since she was in Europe for a graphics conference. So they want to schedule a meeting as soon as possible,” Ted says.

“Wait a minute,” Emmett gasps, and I see a smile split Vic’s face. “By chance was that particular party at the home of Marcella Greene?”

“I think that’s who she mentioned, along with others. Wait, though? Marcella Greene, as in the CEO of Marcel Clothing and Cosmetics?” Ted asks in disbelief.

“One and the same, who also just happens to be the sister of Officer Brandon Greene,” Vic laughs. “Emmett, did you know about this?”

“Not at all. I know that they speak everyday but I never ask what about, even though I’ve heard my name mentioned a few times. I know that she wants HoneyGrass for another catering event next spring sometime, but she doesn’t have the official date yet.” Emmett shrugs.

“Well, Sunshine, it looks like you have some major backers for your new endeavor.” I’m so fucking proud of him.

Every single day I learn something new about him that just takes my breath away. An adult coloring book? It’s something that no one else could have thought of, and at first, sounds completely insane. But that’s Justin, for you. He’s the very definition of innovative. Instead of wishing, he creates in whatever way he needs to in order to get past the moment.

“So how do we market this?” Cynthia asks.

“There are a few ways to do it, I think,” I say. “Considering that it’s a coloring book, you could always include pencils as a package deal instead of having the customers buy their own. There doesn’t have to be a whole heap of pencils included; just enough to serve that group of pictures within the coloring book. Each grouping could have about a hundred pictures each of different genres of art. For example have twenty mosaics, twenty landscapes, twenty places, twenty people, and twenty of animals/marine life. That way there’s something for everyone. Of course, we could apply the same theory in doing specialized books as in one hundred or two hundred pages of mosaics, or whatever the hell they would like. In those cases, the pencil count would increase to let’s say a sixty-four count set reminiscent of how Crayola does their boxes with almost every color imaginable.”

Just as we were finishing up dinner, the doorbell rang. When we all freeze for a moment, Glenda says, “Go on and get it. I’m going to clean up here first and then I’ll come into the room afterward. I just need a few moments to get myself together first. If not, I’ll take a cab, or convince James to drive me to both prisons to kick the hell out of them myself for hurting my new children.”

I walk up to the petite woman and hug her from behind. “You know we love you too, right?” She pats my face gently, which if it was anyone else but Jennifer, Justin, or Gus, I might have a severe problem with and tell them to fuck off royally. But with Glenda… well, she just exudes unconditional love and acceptance; I can’t help but respond to it.

“I know, son,” she says. “But like any true mother, I have a thirst for revenge where you lot are concerned. I suppose it makes me understand where Debbie was not so long ago since our natural inclination is to defend our children at all costs. However, I don’t have to like that I can identify with her, and I’m currently of a mind to go over to Alex and Stephen’s place and smack the bitch for not having the sense God gave a can of peas when it came to her son! Yes, let me get myself under control before I join all of you in the living room. The busy work just now will do me worlds of good, and keep me out of handcuffs.”

I nod and follow the rest of the group out, understanding exactly how Glenda feels right now. In fact, I’m willing to bet that Jennifer feels the same way at the moment. It’s always a shock to come across people who defend me as if I was connected to them by DNA. It makes Joanie’s indifference towards me growing up hurt anew, and yet… well, Joan is trying very hard to, not necessarily change the past, but to grow from it. I remember asking Jennifer once if she’d meant it when she said she wished she’d never had Justin. Justin was having an incredibly hard moment at the beginning of his recovery, and he kept saying that maybe his mother was right to have wished he was never born. When I brought it up to her, she looked at me in total shock at first, as if she obviously couldn’t believe that Justin would tell me something so hurtful and deeply troubling to him. At the time, I would imagine that she was still basing her opinion on all things Brian Kinney off of Debbie’s misinformation. But amazingly enough she answered me with aplomb and the utmost sincerity:

‘Brian, when I’d mistakenly said that to Justin it was just after I’d found out about the first of Craig’s affairs. Justin was being a demanding little shit, Molly was crying for what seemed to be absolutely no reason at all, and me… well, I felt that I had no value beyond what I could do for everyone else. And even that was questionable because my husband had obviously believed that I was replaceable. I felt trapped within my own life, with no way to escape. It just wasn’t a good day. On the surface, I knew that Justin had forgiven me for my outburst- however inappropriate and misdirected it was- but somehow I knew that it still bothered him sometimes. But I thought for sure he had gotten over it by the time he met you. Whatever you and he shared that first night, changed Justin in ways that even now I’m still not sure about. I’m not just talking about you taking his virginity, but adding to his self-confidence. Sure there were moments that he was shaky even while chasing you up and down Liberty Avenue, but he was still… more, in a way. More brave or reckless depending on how one looked at it, more settled in who he is… just more. It was like I was seeing glimpses of the man he would grow to be, and I simply wasn’t ready for it. In truth as I’m discovering, no parent ever really is. I want him back!’

‘I do, too. So let me have him, Jennifer, and I promise he’ll come back… to both of us.’

Replaying that conversation has made me realize that I’ve kept my promise to both of us. Justin is back, and better than we ever imagined he could be. I listened to him address Melanie regarding her feelings about Lindsay and Michael’s bullshit, and I have to admit that he was talking to me, too. This shit hurts, and having to publicly relive all of the highs and lows of knowing them won’t be easy, but it has to be done for so many reasons. It brought me back to something my mother once uttered when I was younger. It was in one of her rare sober moments when I was about fourteen. In fact, it was right before I met Michael. She was just hanging up from a phone call that had come in from the one aunt of mine who she still talked to. She was crying, and I honestly didn’t know what to do. Other than anger and chronic disappointment, I’d never seen any other emotion from Joan Kinney. But that day, for some reason I felt compelled to ask her what was wrong, and then braced myself for the inevitable harsh criticism of not minding my own business.

So it was my surprise when she reached for me, and caressed my shoulders for a brief time before looking me in the eyes. ‘Brian, I want you to always remember that we are only as sick as our secrets.’ To say that I didn’t understand the cryptic message would be an understatement, but I felt that she was trying to tell me something important, something that I should keep in that back of my mind because one day I would understand her meaning. So I just nodded and went to my room to do my homework, and put the sentiment as far away from me as I could. But over the years, at various points, that day would replay in my psyche.

Sometimes, it would keep me from taking the next drink, or keep me from going with this trick or that one; would make me call Ted or Emmett on a night when I would have normally called Michael to take me home, or escape out of the backdoor in the Backroom at Babylon just for a bit of peace and quiet. Sometimes, it would invade my mind while I was being emotionally eviscerated by Deb, Michael, or Lindsay for not doing what they wanted, but I still didn’t understand the cryptic message Joan was trying to give me… until right now.

“Brian?” Justin comes up to me, and puts his arms around my waist. “You okay?”

I look down into his upturned face, and kiss his lips gently. “Not yet, but after this I will be.”

He looks at me a bit puzzled, but when I kiss him again, he sighs the sound of acceptance. “That makes two of us, Brian; that makes two of us…”

“Just…” I start and then stop, before starting again. “Just remember that who we were then is not who we are now, okay? We have nothing to be ashamed about regarding how we’ve chosen to live our lives.”

“Why would you make such a caustic statement right now when we’re both ready to cut and run as it is?” Justin mumbles.

“I don’t know exactly. Just that something my mom told me once is coming back to haunt me… and I think we’re about to find out that truer words were never spoken.”

The strange thing is that at this moment I realize I’ve had one of the toughest addictions to break, and didn’t even know it. Hiding in plain sight is seemingly harmless until the act physically, emotionally, and mentally cripples you; stunts your personal growth until all the goals you ever had for yourself become those of someone else- the person your environment shapes you to be. It creates this shadow that you are always trying to outrun, constantly making you look over your shoulder to brace yourself for its imminent attack. It makes you skeptical of everything, including your own motives and drive to succeed beyond reasonable expectations. It makes you worry that you will NEVER be good enough, or deserving enough, or in my case man enough, to go after the things that will enhance your life, instead of letting go of the things- the people- which consistently detract from it.

And while all of the material things you have are of the best quality, you can’t see that some of the people surrounding you are subpar in every facet. It makes you protect them, even while they denigrate you, so that you still have someone seemingly in your corner. It allows them to systematically destroy you all in the name of friendship and the ideal of love. It makes you comfortable in the darkness surrounding you, but afraid of the light that awaits. Joan, Jack, Michael, Lindsay, Debbie… those people at one time or another signified all those things to me, until Justin came along and made me face what I wasn’t willing to see about them and myself.

Ignorance is only bliss until it’s pointed out, and he’s done that. With him, I couldn’t hide any longer, and I don’t want to.

So it looks like I’m about to enter recovery right now in order to get free. Michael, Lindsay, and whomever else has helped them or supported them in their quest to kill any vestige of the Brian Kinney I truly am, certainly aren’t going to be happy… But who gives a fuck! For once in my miserable life, I am prepared to show them- to show the world- just how selfish and self-absorbed I can really be. After all, this is not just about winning the war they waged against me and Justin; it’s about US surviving it!