Chapter 23 - History.

“Justin? Justin, Daphne, are you fucking idiots okay? Justin!” Brian’s voice echoing as it bounced off the bare plaster and brick walls of the tunnels carried pretty well considering the distance we’d come. “Answer me, damn it, or I’m fucking calling emergency services to come rescue your asses!”

Daphne and I both chuckled and shook our heads indulgently.

“He’s so freaking out,” I commented. “Poor Eggy.”

“Poor, sweet, totally romantic, Eggy, who is apparently already so into you that he can’t bear to have you out of his sight,” Daphne teased quietly.

“I’m not fucking kidding, Justin! What the hell are you guys doing down there anyway? Answer me now!” There was a palpable edge of panic in Brian’s voice this time, meaning I really did need to answer him.

“Hang on a sec, Eggy. We found something!” I yelled back down the tunnel in Brian’s direction, hoping that would reassure him.

Meanwhile, Daphne had already tried the doorknob without any luck. She rattled the handle and tried to force it to turn using both hands, but nothing. I pushed her aside, eager to see if my Burglar skills would work any better, but even when I did my lift-and-twist-while-kicking-the-door maneuver, the damned thing didn’t budge.

“Fuck whatever you found. That’s enough damn exploring for one day. Time to get your asses back here already!” Eggy demanded, his voice getting louder and louder as his anxiety ramped up.

“I think I’d better get back to him, Daph,” I suggested. “It sounds like he’s getting really wigged and I don’t want to completely freak him out. We’ll have to come back and try this door again another time.”

“Yeah, I think that’s probably wise,” Daph conceded, giving the unyielding door one last shake. “Too bad though - I’m majorly curious about whatever’s behind this door. What do you think is in there?”

As she spoke, Daphne leaned down and put her eye to the keyhole, but of course she couldn’t see anything because whatever was behind that door was waiting in the pitch dark. I lowered my phone, trying to help her out as best I could by directing the flashlight under the bottom edge of the door where I had noticed a small gap between the wooden door and the stone sill. Just as I moved the phone closer to the door, though, there was a *ping* and a pop-up window appeared on the screen asking me if I wanted to connect to the Crazy Mocha WIFI, my usual coffee stop here abouts.

“Huh. Look at this,” I showed the phone to Daphne when she gave up trying to spy through the old-time lock. “We must be right below the coffee shop to be picking up this signal.”

“Cool. So at least we know which building the door leads into. I wonder if the Crazy Mocha people know that they have a tunnel in their basement or if it’s hidden the same way the entrance from Brian’s building was hidden? I mean, you’d think that they would have bricked it off like all those other doorways we passed by if they did know about it. I can’t imagine any property owner wanting to leave access to these tunnels open indefinitely, can you?”

“Justin! If your ass isn’t back here in two minutes I really AM going to call for emergency help!” Brian screamed down the tunnel at us.

“Come on, Daph. We have to get back before my poor Egbert blows a gasket. We’ll figure this door out later,” I ordered and tugged at my friend’s sleeve to get her moving in the right direction. “We’re coming, Egbert. Don’t get your panties in a twist!” I hollered to my favorite worrywort.

Returning to Egbert’s Lair was easy and, since we already knew where we were going, it didn’t take us as long to get back as it had to get to the unknown doorway. As soon as we turned around the bend in the tunnel, I could see Brian hovering in the entryway, his bulk blocking out what little light filtered through from the basement. Even from that distance, and without much light, I could tell he was really worried about me judging by the set of his shoulders. Am I forgiven for feeling a small jolt of pleasure at knowing how protective and upset he was over me? I know it’s mean to enjoy your boyfriend freaking out, but come on, he was freaking out about ME. Because he obviously cared about ME. Wasn’t that justification for being a little bit happy over his distress?

When Brian finally saw us coming, he even went so far as to take a few steps out into the tunnel itself, the brave boy. I tried to hobble faster on my gimp foot so I could reach him sooner. And when I finally did, my guy immediately reached out, grabbed me, and pulled me into his chest for a bone-crushing hug. I could feel him trembling slightly as I clung to him almost as strongly. You’d think Daph and I had traveled to the ends of the earth and back, not just a few dozen meters away. But it was good to be missed.

“So, did you find the end of the tunnel?” Brian asked as he ushered us back inside and immediately slammed the tunnel door closed.

“Not exactly,” I hedged.

Unfortunately, Daphne didn’t understand my hesitation on the subject and launched directly into a full explanation of how we not only found another doorway but also that the tunnel continued on even further than we’d expected into the unknown. Brian was weirded out enough by this news that he personally pushed the big chest of drawers over so it was blocking the door; this in spite of the fact that touching the dusty old piece of furniture was probably setting off his OCD something crazy. It would have been useless to reason with him or point out how it was pretty evident from the rubble down there that nobody had been through the tunnels in ages. I kinda wished I didn’t have to leave to get to my mom’s so I could stay and protect him from whatever onslaught he imagined would be coming through the tunnel. Alas, time was not on my side that day.

“Shit! Look at the time,” Daphne exclaimed as soon as we got back to the lighted part of the basement. “We better book or we’ll be ridiculously late for the ‘rents.”

“Yeah. Sorry to explore and run, big guy,” I apologized to Egbert, who was just then helping my limping ass up the basement stairs. “I wish I didn’t have to go, but this is the one holiday that my Mom loves more than any other, so attendance is mandatory.”

Egbert simply shrugged, as if he’d never expected me to stay anyway. And maybe he hadn’t. I mean, the guy WAS a confirmed hermit, after all, so I’m pretty sure he was used to having plenty of alone time. But that didn’t mean I felt good just scarpering off like I was. Unfortunately, family commitments and all that . . .

We finally reached the main lobby doors and I picked up my bag from where I’d left it waiting in the corner. I turned towards Brian and offered an apologetic smile. He gave me a bushy smile in return. Damn his hairy beauty; it made it so tough to leave. Maybe I could just stay here and continue staring like a moonstruck twat all day instead?

“Oh, come on already, Romeo,” Daph complained, grabbing my elbow and forcibly pulling me out the door. “You two can gaze longingly at each other another day. I’ve got a honeybaked ham and presents to get to.” I hobbled sideways in her determined wake, with a little wave goodbye to the man standing in the entryway door. “Bye, Brian!” Daphne yelled over her shoulder as she dragged me towards where her car was parked a little way down the block. “Merry Christmas!”

By Wednesday I’d finally reached the stage where I felt confident in foregoing the boot cast again. I still had a soft ankle brace on, but other than that I felt fully mobile once more. Good thing too, since I had a shift at the Diner scheduled for that afternoon and I didn’t want to call off for another day; I’d already missed two shifts that week. So much for my plan to work enough over the holiday break to pay for some extras that my father wouldn’t let me buy for the next semester at school. Oh well, best laid plans and all.

Deb made a big deal out of my limping into work and gave me the easiest jobs all that afternoon. I admit, I may have hammed it up a little in order to maximize the sympathy I was getting, as well as the tips. The customers apparently felt they needed to pony up more than usual for the poor injured waif, and I was just fine with that. Hey, I’m not too proud to make a buck in whatever way I can, provided it’s legal, of course.

So, after a lighter than usual day, I still had plenty of energy left when I was done at the Diner for a trip to see my favorite stylite. I hopped the next bus heading west and jumped off a few minutes later at the stop that left me across from the Triangle Building, right in front of the coffee shop. Of course, Crazy Mocha now had even more interest for me - besides just their crazy good menu of interesting coffee drinks - because I knew that they were hiding something mysterious in their basement. That’s probably why, this time, I took a moment to stop before I went in and actually read the historical plaque that was affixed to the building.

So, it seemed that this building was even older than my Triangle Building and that, for at least part of its history, it was a hotel: The Hotel Liberty to be precise. That was interesting. So, why would Peebles want to connect his new office building to a nearby hotel? I could sense more historical research in my future.

But, in the meantime, I went inside the coffee shop and ordered my usual latte along with a Caramel Macchiato for my hermit. Bill The Cat, of course, would get the two extra creamers I pocketed while I was waiting for my order. And, because it wasn’t very busy that afternoon, I even had time to engage the sales clerk in some conversation while her barista buddy was making my drinks.

I introduced myself by saying I was working on an architecture project for school and asked the pretty young woman with the shocking neon-pink hair if the coffee shop had access to the basement of the building. “I know it’s a strange question to ask, but I recently found out that some of the buildings along this stretch of Liberty used to be connected via tunnels and I just wondered if you guys had access to that through the basement. Maybe I could even go down and have a quick look?”

“Sorry. We only lease the ground floor space,” the girl replied. “I did get a bit of a look around in the basement one time when there was a plumbing leak and the building management had to let us in so our plumbers could fix shit. I don’t remember seeing any tunnels or anything though. All that’s down there is a small utility area with HVAC equipment and stuff. It’s not even a full basement.”

Okay. So, assuming that there WAS a room behind the door under this building, it didn’t sound like any of the building’s residents knew it was there. Which made me think that whatever was down there was hidden, just like the room in Eggy’s basement. But why hide the rooms and tunnels . . . unless, maybe, they were put there for some type of illicit purpose? Curiouser and curiouser.

I thanked Pinkie and took my coffee order with me back across the street, still caught up in my mind by the Mystery of Liberty Avenue.

I was glad I’d texted Eggy earlier to warn him I was on my way over, because it meant the lobby door was unlocked when I arrived, and I didn’t have to put down the coffees to pull my burglar routine. In fact, William was already waiting for me at the bottom of the stairs, his tail switching expectantly as he mewled at me, demanding I open his creamers for him forthwith. Pushy pussy. I was equally unsurprised to find the cat’s person waiting, sitting on the stairs just a meter or two up from the lobby, when I was done feeding my feline friend and turned in that direction.

“And so the Prodigal Burglar returns,” Brian teased with a smirk.

“Hey, the door was unlocked!” I pointed out. “I didn’t break in this time, so you can’t call me a burglar.”

“Doesn’t matter - you’re still a burglar at heart.”

“Would a burglar bring you coffee?” I asked, climbing up the few steps necessary to allow me to wave Eggy’s drink below his nose, intending to entice him with the delicious aroma.

“Looks like your ankle is better,” Egbert pointed out, probably to distract me from the fact that he hadn’t even attempted to take the cup from me.

I was so onto him. “It’s getting there. But enough about my ankle, Eggy. Take your coffee already and then give me a nice ‘welcome back’ kiss so I know you missed me,” I ordered.

I’d expected a snarky reply but instead I just got a shy smile. I was soooooo wearing Brian down! He sighed and rubbed his palms against his thighs, up and down a few times, but then he actually reached out and took the paper coffee cup out of my hand, sniffing at the contents with appreciation. Wow! Big progress there! In my head I was cheering him on, chanting, ‘go, Eggy, go!’. But I was careful not to let that show on the outside, merely smiling, closing my eyes, and tilting my head back slightly so as to give the man better access to my exaggeratedly puckered lips. When I felt the tentative scratchiness of a long beard against my cheek, I knew I’d won. A second later the warm lips were pressing against my own and I happily returned the greeting. I was elated at how far we’d come in such a relatively short period of time and I let my man know it through the medium of my enthusiastic kisses.

Somewhere amidst all that kissing fun I’d apparently knelt on the stair riser in front of where Eggy was sitting, so as to obtain more leverage for my lip work, which meant that the pain in my knees from that hard surface ended up being what brought an end to our makeout session. I pulled back with a little moan of protest and used his knees to help steady myself as I got back to my feet. Then I almost dove right back in for more when I noticed the bee-stung look of his well-kissed lips. This man was fucking addictive. Thank fuck there was still a small spark of caution whispering in the the back of my brain to remind me to take things slow, otherwise I might have just taken him right there and then on the stairs.

“Stop trying to seduce me out of the purpose for my visit, Eggy,” I chided him with a wink. “Despite all the evidence to the contrary, I didn’t come over here just to kiss you.” He looked at me skeptically. “Well, okay, that was part of it, but not the ONLY reason. I also wanted to raid your grandfather’s library again to research those tunnels.”

“Not more of the fucking tunnels, please,” Brian complained. “Can’t we just conveniently forget they even exist? I, for one, was much happier when I didn’t know there was a damned tunnel to nowhere in my fucking basement, Sunshine.”

“Awww, come on, Eggy. You gotta admit this whole mystery thing is interesting, right?” He frowned at me and shook his head ‘no’. “Well, I disagree. I’m curious as fuck. I want to find out why the hell Peebles would go to the trouble of hiding a staircase and a room in his building and why that hidden room connects via hidden tunnels to at least one other building. A building, I might add, that was operated as a Hotel. Doesn’t that seem odd? I mean, yeah, I can see connecting your fancy new office building to a nearby hotel for the convenience of your tenants - they might want to stay there or at least have meals there, right? - but why HIDE the connecting tunnel? That’s the part that makes no sense.”

“You’re not going to ever let this go, are you?” He asked me with a little sub-vocal grumble of disapproval.

I shook my head and shrugged.

“Fuck . . .” Brian got to his feet as well, finally unblocking the stairwell. “You’re annoyingly persistent. You know that, right?”

“Yep! Always have been. It’s part of my charm.”

Brian didn’t reply other than to shift over, closer to the wall, so that I could get around him, and gesture with one hand to indicate I was welcome to go up. I gave him one of my best smiles as I accepted his invitation. I could hear his footsteps following right behind me on the stairs, so I knew he couldn't be too annoyed by me. I sooooo had him figured out. I’m just that good.

Instead of stopping at Brian’s rooms, I went straight to the door at the end of the hall that I knew led into the office. Eggy trailed quiescently behind without comment. I dumped my messenger bag on the floor next to the larger of the two comfortable armchairs and turned to the bookcase where I remembered there were several historical reference books.

“Wasn’t there a book here that had a history of the founding fathers of Pittsburgh . . .” Brian reached over my shoulder and picked the exact volume out of the line of books where it lived, depositing the book in my hands like the helpful hermit he was. “Thank you, Eggy. Now we just have to find out who owned the Hotel Liberty and what his connection was to Peebles . . .”

Luckily, our research didn’t take long at all. The Hotel Liberty had been pretty well known back in the day. And so was it’s owner, B.F. Jones. Mr. Jones, or as he was also known, Benjamin Franklin Jones, Jr, was the son of steel pioneer, B.F. Jones, Sr. Senior had been one of the VIPs of the the young city of Pittsburgh back when it had been only a small village on the side of a muddy stream leading to the Allegheny River. Jones had also been one of the early pioneers of the burgeoning steel industry and ended up dying a very, very, very rich man. Meanwhile, Junior, who was the steel baron’s only child, ended up being a bit of a dandy and was likely a bit of a disappointment to his hard-working, conservative, prudent father. According to the books that Brian and I looked through, Junior was rumored to have hung out with a less reputable crowd than his father, and his hotel was known to be frequented by ‘unsavory’ types.

“Okay, this is starting to make more sense,” I surmised after I finished reading through one particularly juicy recounting about how Junior was known to have run a speakeasy out of the same hotel during Prohibition. “If this BF Jones, Jr. guy was always as sketchy as he seems, it’s not that unbelievable that he’d have wanted to connect his hotel to other places via hidden tunnels. It would be like an escape route kind of thing, right?”

“Right . . .” Brian mumbled as he kept on reading a passage in a different reference. “Shit . . . Listen to this, Sunshine . . . ‘In his youth, Jones was the leader of a group of young men, mostly bachelors and unattached sons of the City’s upper crust, who were all well known rakes and reprobates. On more than one occasion, this band of ne'er-do-wells was called out in the pulpits of the City’s churches, and the Hotel Liberty was accused of being a den of pederasts and sodomites. Doubtless, if BF Jones, Sr. and the rest of these boys’ influential fathers hadn’t been as rich as they were, or hadn’t had the connections they had to local judges and police, their escapades would have made a lot bigger headlines.’” Brian finished reading the passage aloud.

“Pederasts and sodomites? Oh yeah; I totally called it! They were all so, so, soooooo gay!” I crowed as I slammed the book I’d been reading closed. “And you didn’t believe me when I surmised that Peebles and young Billy were gay! Hah! Of course the tunnels and hidden rooms all make sense now, though - if Peebles and his buddy Jones were up to ‘illegal homosexual activities’,” I emphasized my words with scare quotes, “having tunnels connecting their buildings would help to hide their illicit rendezvous. Shit! Can you imagine having to go to all that trouble just so you could live out a secret life as a gay man? Kinda sucks, you know?”

“Looks like you were right after all, Sunshine,” Brian finally conceded as he started to reshelve all the books we’d taken out of the bookcase. “Considering what they were up to, and the prevailing opinions of the time about homosexuality, I guess your tunnels make sense.”

“Now I REALLY want to know where else that tunnel leads to, though,” I opined, getting up to stretch after sitting so long, and enjoying the way Brian’s eyes raked over my body, ending up focused on the strip of skin that was bared as my shirt rode up. “I mean, how far did this conspiracy of rebel gays go? Who else was in on it?”

“I don’t know. Although, we’re probably letting our imaginations get away from us, Sunshine,” Brian cautioned. “There might be some other, completely innocuous explanation, we’re overlooking. Not everyone is gay. For all we know, the fucking tunnel probably only led to a local brewery or something so the hotel could get their liquor supply more easily.”

“Maybe . . . But for now at least, I’m sticking with my Secret Sodomite Society theory. It’s more fun.”

That little zinger earned me a chuckle from my man but, before I could follow up on my theories, the ravenous beast that lives in my belly spoke with a loud rumbling growl. Brian rolled his eyes and shook his head; it seemed he was already familiar enough with the bottomless pit that was my stomach to be unimpressed with how loud and insistent it could be. Hey, I can’t help it if I’m still a growing boy who needs fed at regular intervals, now can I?

“Why does it feel like you only ever come over here to eat and sleep?” Brian asked. “I’m beginning to think you’re homeless as well as a burglar.”

“You caught me! That’s why I’m focused on you and your mostly empty building - I’m eyeing it as a potential flop house for me and all my homeless burglar friends,” I teased.

“Cute . . .”

But before Eggy could insert his next amused complaint, I felt my phone buzzing in my jeans pocket and held up my hand to stop him. Pulling the device out, I noted the call was from Daphne. I tapped the icon to accept the call.

“Yo, Daphy. Tell me some good news!” I listened to her burbling about work and some friend there and . . . well, Daphne does tend to ramble a lot, so it’s forgivable that I rarely focus too carefully on her phone calls, right? I didn’t tune back in until the end when she concluded, “So Marcy agreed to come with me to meet Brian and if she thinks it’s indicated, she’ll prescribe him some anti-anxiety meds that will help with his OCD. We’re on our way now. You’re with Brian now, right? You said you were going over there after work today, so is now a good time?”

“Uh . . .” I looked over at my hermit and wondered how, exactly, I was going to prepare him for the invasion that was about to beset his tower of solitude. “We were just about to have dinner,” I answered lamely, trying to think of anything I could say that would put her off.

“Oh, that’s a great idea! I’m starving too. How about Marcy and I pick up a couple of pizzas on our way over and we can all chow down? Pepperoni okay with you boys? Oh, wait, Marcy says she wants a veggie. Oh well, we can get one of each. See you in about twenty then. Bye!” Daphne declared and then hung up before I could even respond.

I shoved my phone back into my pocket and then looked up at my nervous host. “So, Eggy, do you like pizza?” I asked with what I hoped was my most captivating smile.

Needless to say, Egbert was not at all pleased with the prospect of Daphne and her friend coming over for dinner. In fact, it would probably be an understatement to say he totally freaked out over the idea. And I get it, you know? I really do. His OCD combined with this social anxiety thing he has means he really is NOT into impromptu dinner parties. Hell, Brian makes your average introvert look like a party animal. But, since I’d already determined that I was going to help him beat this thing that was keeping him so isolated, I wasn’t going to let him hide anymore. This was going to be good for him - painful, but good in the long run - and I knew he could do it . . . with a little help.

So, after I explained to him what was about to go down, and waited while he imploded for about fifteen minutes or so, pacing and grumbling and nervously straightening all the already straightened possessions in his rooms, I forcibly pulled him down next to me on the couch and distracted him with my lips.

By the time that Daph texted, ‘Downstairs. Let us in!’, about ten minutes later, I had effectively kissed Brian into a calmer frame of mind. Yes, it’s true, my make out skills are THAT good. I gave Eggy one last peck on his luscious lips, adding a friendly tug to the long beard hairs sprouting below his chin, and then got up to run down the stairs so I could let the girls in. Unfortunately, by the time we’d all trudged back upstairs, pizza boxes in hand, he’d already worked himself up into a new lather and all my kissing had gone to waste.

“Hey, Eggy,” I announced as I ushered my merry band through the doors of his sacrosanct apartments. “You remember Daphne, of course,” he looked up from where he was dusting the bookcase - again - and nodded at Daphne, “and this is her friend Marcy from the Hospital.”

“Hey, Brian,” Daphne greeted him with a smile, holding up the pizza boxes. “Hope you’re hungry!”

I could see the incipient panic in my poor recluse’s eyes as Daphne began to offload the greasy cardboard boxes onto his coffee table; I leapt into action and grabbed the pizza boxes away from Daph before they could contaminate Brian’s table, whisking them away to the kitchen. Brian joined me forthwith, getting out dishes and wiping them down before handing them to me, using a wet wipe to protect his fingers as he picked up the two pizza boxes, wiping down the counters underneath, and then replacing each atop of protective layer comprised of multiple plies of paper towelling so that none of the grease - or the other germy nastiness that conceivably came along with the boxes - would touch his pristine countertops. I let him do his thing and then took the initiative to plate up a couple slices for each of the women. Daph gave me a bit of side-eye, probably because she thought I was letting Brian get away with too much, but at least she didn’t say anything out loud. And, once the two females were seated around the coffee table with their food, I filled a plate for myself. I knew that there was no way in hell that Eggy was going to touch outside food, let alone something like greasy pizza which you were expected to eat with your fingers, so I didn’t even bother. To be honest, I thought he was doing pretty amazing even letting the girls and the pizza into his building. The rest would have to wait for another day.

When we were all reseated, me and the two girls on the couch and Brian off on his own in an armchair, Marcy apparently determined it was time to get on with the real purpose behind the surprise pizza party. “So, Brian, it’s really nice to meet you. Daphne has told me a little bit about your situation here and asked if I could maybe help. I’m a Nurse Practitioner with a specialty in mental health. I’ve dealt with a fair number of OCD patients in the past, which is why Daphne figured I might be able to help you. What do you say?”

The resulting deer-in-the-headlights look that Eggy exhibited might have even been a little amusing, if it hadn’t been followed up with an angry, accusatory glare aimed my direction . . .