Brian and Justin arrived at the museum shortly after it opened for the day.  Since it was late fall, the tourists had gone and the hordes of school children taking one of the ‘requisite' field trips were not in evidence.  The Dali museum in St. Petersburg was exhibiting Warhol's work and the Warhol museum had a reciprocal agreement to display some of Dali's pieces.  The patrons of both museums were able to enjoy the juxtaposition of both artist's muse.  Justin was a huge Warhol fan, despite their paintings being different; Justin mostly painting abstracts. He'd talked to Brian about the two artists on several occasions and Brian thought this was an excellent time to see the exhibit.  Both of them needed a break from all the chaos of their lives.  Brian had given Justin a membership to the Carnegie Mellon museums, knowing they offered enough diversity to spark his creative juices as well a chance to spend time with some of the best work in the city. It truly was a gift from the heart. 

Justin's mood seemed to elevate the closer they got to the museum.  He was excited about seeing the exhibit, although he did worry about Brian taking off work for the day when there were pressing matters at Kinnetik.  Since Justin had studied art history in school, he didn't feel the need to rent an audio tour of the exhibit.  He could probably have given the tour at some art museums, but he declined to lecture Brian when they toured unless Brian specifically inquired about a piece.  Justin usually studied information about the exhibit and its pieces prior to attending so he could increase his appreciation of the art work.  He'd only done some preliminary review of the Dali exhibit, but remembered the artist had a very strong style, one that mutated everyday objects, like the infamous dripping clock.  

Entering the exhibit, Justin was drawn to several of the larger installations, especially the market area where the famous Campbell soup cans and Brillo pieces were displayed. He walked about the display and tried to imagine the artist painting.  Did he paint all day and get lost in his muse?  Was he always so fascinated with death and macabre in his life that his pictures depict such strange visions?  Why are his pictures so layered?  Justin usually painted abstracts but there were frequently shapes in his pieces, often of Brian or the two of them, but not always recognizable by someone unfamiliar with the artist.

Brian's interest in art varied; he knew what he liked and what he didn't like, and he liked Justin's work.  Even before they became a couple, he thought the young man was talented and he was pleased to see he had not been wrong.  Dali's work was a little much for his taste, but he'd come today not to enjoy the exhibit, but to get Justin interested in something else besides their many current trials and tribulations. Apparently his idea worked as Justin was mesmerized as he walked around the exhibit, taking it in from all viewpoints. Today, the only thing he was interested in seeing was his partner's happiness. Justin moved on to other exhibits in the museum, stopping at several to admire the pieces from different angles.  They'd been there for several hours when Brian heard the all too familiar growl from Justin's stomach.

"The beast calls," he said, a gentle tease in his voice.

"I guess I am hungry.  I'm sure you're ready to leave."

"There is a café here.  We can eat and then you can view the remainder of the museum." Brian pointed toward the bottom of the building where he'd seen a café when they entered the building.  "We don't have anywhere we have to be."

"Are you sure?  I know this is boring for you.  You can leave and I'll catch the bus home," Justin said as his stomach chose that moment to let him know it needed fuel.

Brian did not answer, but walked toward the beautiful staircase, descending down its winding stairs.  Justin followed, understanding the lack of response meaning there was no discussion on the matter. 

"Thank you," Justin said.

"Are you enjoying yourself?" Brian asked, ignoring the statement.

"Yes. Dali's work is fascinating, but sometimes I feel like the spectator watching someone tripping.  I can't imagine what type of drugs he must have taken and for how long to produce some of those paintings."  Justin walked up to the counter and looked at the food listings on the wall.  After ordering, he went to the condiment area, grabbed some napkins and a fork and then found an empty table toward the back. 

As he waited for Brian to join him he placed the items on the table, setting it for two.  Even here, his country club manners kicked in.  Brian sat down opposite him as he looked around at the café, noticing the stark contrast of dark colored walls with shiny white tables.  The café was definitely meant to continue the Warhol feel, even though there were no pieces of work from the collection adorning the wall.  Their food was brought to the table by a young woman who smiled at them.

"You've never painted when you were high?" Brian asked, somewhat surprised at the admission.  "I love it when we take E together; you're very playful and...." He raised his eyebrow up slightly and smirked indicating what the ‘and' meant.

Justin laughed.  "I can't believe you won't say horny.  Brian Kinney being discrete is a first."

Brian loved that he made Justin laughed.  He considered his outing today a success; it had been too long since he'd heard that sound from his partner.

"We are in public and not at Woody's or Babylon.  I do know how to be discrete." Brian took a bite of his sandwich, tasting the whole-wheat bread, deciding it was probably freshly baked.  "So back to my original statement or question.  Why haven't you painted when you're high?"

Justin finished the bite of his burger, still eating like he was a teenager and 17, before answering.  "That's an easy one to answer.  I paint when my muse strikes.  Sometimes it's 3:00 in the morning.  You know you've woken up more times than you can count and I'm in my studio painting.  But when I'm high, I can't get lost in my muse."

"Have you ever tried?  I mean I think it would be a great piece.  You should try it."

"I don't know. I kind of like to know what I'm painting and sometimes my brain is a little fuzzy after taking E.  Besides, I don't always start and finish a piece at one sitting and I think it would be disconcerting to start a piece when I'm all fucked up and then come back to it when I wasn't."

Brian didn't push Justin; he was just glad that Justin was even talking about his work and the process.  They'd talked about Justin's art more today than Justin had in several weeks.  He was often waxing about some piece or idea and Brian realized he'd missed the on-going chatter.

They finished their lunch and returned to the museum where they spent another few hours viewing the art.  Justin stopped in the gift shop on the way out.

"I want to get something for Gus.  He always likes to paint with me in the studio.  I thought buying a set of his own brushes would make him happy."

Brian wanted to whoop at the top of his lungs at Justin's statement, but instead walked over to the kid section pretending to look at the art supplies.  He picked up several art kits designed for children and passed them to Justin who gently shook his head at each suggestion.  Justin picked up a set of five brushes, turning them over to see what price was listed. The brushes were $30, he set them down.

"Are they good brushes?" Brian asked.

"Seem like it.  Just expensive."

"All relative.  Gus will tell everyone that you bought them for him from the Warhol museum.  He will take care of those way better than he does most of his toys.  He loves painting with you.  He should have quality brushes just like you do and you shouldn't have to share with him."

Brian's voice brooked no argument and Justin picked up the packet again.  He saw a beautiful scarf that he knew his mother would enjoy and he brought both items to the counter.  Before he could reach for his wallet, Brian had his Black American Express out and the woman behind the counter was running the card. Brian handed Justin the bag and they walked out of the shop.

"Gus will love his brushes. You didn't have to pay for them."

"He will love them and your mom will like the scarf," Brian said as he opened the door leading outside. 

"Thank you. Do you think we could give them to him this afternoon?  I can't wait to see his face."

"Of course.  The munchers never get upset if you drop by," Brian's voice hinted at the irritation he sometimes felt when he visited his son, but he refrained from pushing his agenda today.  "You do realize if you give him the brushes, he will want to come over right away and use them."

"I was hoping that would be his response.  I have some ideas for a new piece."  Justin smiled at Brian, never discussing his difficulties of the last few weeks.

"Gonna share the idea?"

"Not yet.  I need to get it on paper first."

"Gus should be home by now.  We'll surprise them.  I know it's been a while since we saw him," Brian said, as he smiled inwardly at the change in Justin.  He inwardly congratulated himself for his idea of taking Justin to the museum.  It appeared just what he needed to get back on track with his painting. 

They walked to the car and Justin laid his purchases on the back seat. 

"Warhol was such a great artist.  He even was recognized during his lifetime.  That's an amazing feat," Justin remarked as they were driving out of the lot. "Sometimes when I go to a museum, I feel overwhelmed, like I'll never be as good as the artist whose work is displayed.  But today, ....  It's different."

"Different?"

"Yeah. Today, I just want to go home and create.  I don't really care if any of my work ever sells or gets hung in a museum somewhere.  Although that would be cool.  I realize my art is for me first.  I have to create like I have to eat and breathe.  If I can't create, I lose a part of myself."

"So painting is you?"

"Right.  I always knew I liked to draw and when I got older PIFA was my dream.  Now I understand that my dream is really to create, to put on canvas what I feel." Justin felt a sense of release he hadn't ever put into words.

"You're following your dream. And your dream makes you money."

"I hope it means that but if it doesn't,...I guess I have to find a job to support myself.  Brian, most artists sell a few paintings and have a small following.  I got lucky when I found Carol.  She's done wonders for me, getting my work shown, getting shows for me, but ultimately my art is for me.  If I'm not happy with the pieces I create, why do it?"

"All this from a Warhol exhibit?  How did you come to this conclusion?" Brian was very interested in this new line of thought and wanted to keep Justin talking.  He knew a few well-placed responses could often get his partner talking for hours.  He recognized the enthusiasm in Justin's voice, happy he appeared interested again in his art.

"Watching the people.  I loved the art work, but the art was only a piece of the museum.  I stopped at each piece, tried to figure out what Warhol was thinking when he created it, tried to get in his mind and I realized that I'm not Warhol.  I have no idea what his inspiration was for any given piece.  I also came to realize that all those people in the museum were affected differently by each piece they viewed.  We all come to the table with a different set of experiences; therefore our interpretation of art is different. An artist creates because he has no other choice.  If people like his work and he can make a living from it, icing on the cake."

"Justin."  Brian paused, not wanting to push Justin's change of heart, but needing to understand his partner.  "You'll keep painting because it's for you and if you sell something you'll be happy, but you're okay if you don't sell anything ever again."

"Yep."  Justin grinned.  "Tim Callen's article scared me.  I was afraid what others would think of me, but now I realize I will do what I need to do to support myself as long as I can keep myself in oils and canvas."

"So you're okay being a kept man?" Brian teased, knowing this discussion was a common joke between them.

"No.  I will not be your boy toy and I don't expect you to pay the bills.  If Tim's article has back lash.... Carol doesn't want to support my work, patrons won't buy the pieces, then I'll go to work doing something else...."  Justin's voice dropped a little at the end of his sentence and he added a little addendum. "I just hope you don't lose clients over my indiscretions.  You shouldn't have to pay to support me."

Brian heard the regret in Justin's voice again.  Angry he had not pushed himself to investigate Justin's lack of painting and his willingness to ignore the lack of progress in Justin's career, he promised himself he would pay more attention to Justin's mental state.  They appeared to have passed one hurdle, Justin's painting and creativity crisis, but they still had to deal with the stalker, John Scott. Justin had control over his painting but he did not have any control over the stalker. 

"My clients can screw themselves if they choose to leave over a little exotic dancing.  I'm a gay man.  I don't hide my sexuality and I don't hide my life.  If people are going to take their business somewhere else because my partner supported himself with a little dancing, I don't want their business.  Do you have any idea how many straight guys cheat on their wives or better yet, cheat with other guys and their wives don't even know they're in the closet?  There are millions of crooked politicians, cheating spouses, and slime balls out there who will do anything to earn a dollar, even if that dollar is the hard earned money of a retired old lady.  You earned your money in a very legitimate way, not by screwing anyone- literally or figuratively." Brian finished his version of a public service announcement as they were driving up to the muncher's house.  "Let's give Gus his brushes and set a time for him to come paint with the next Warhol."

Ringing the doorbell, the two men stood on the front stoop as they waited to be let in.  Mel came to the door, opening her mouth and raising her eyebrows in surprise at the men standing on her porch in the middle of the afternoon.

"Brian.  Justin.  What are you doing here?  Why aren't you at work?  It's the middle of the afternoon."

"We came to see my son.  Are you going to let us in or are we going to play twenty questions all day?"

Mel opened the door, waving them inside.

"Linds took him to the grocery with her. They should be home soon.  Why aren't you at work?" She sat down on the green sofa in the living room, leaning forward to hear the answer.  She heard the click of the door lock, turning her head to announce their presence to Gus and Linds.

"Mel... I picked up a paper while I was in the checkout at the store.  You'll never believe this.  I saw a blurb in the arts section about Justin; he used to strip when he was in New York.  Can you believe?  I can't imagine what he was thinking.  Didn't he think it...." Linds stopped as she walked into the living room with her bag of groceries.   "Oh."  Gus ran into the home and straight for Brian.

"Daddy.  Justin.  Did you come to play with me?  Can we play trucks?  Can we paint, Justin?  It's been a long time since we painted.  When can I spend the night with you again?  I love the car bed.  I pretend I'm a race car driver and I drive faster than all the cars.  Vroom. Vroom."  Gus held his hands as if he was driving a car.  Reaching out to Brian, he said, "Come on Daddy.  Let's play.  I got a new hot wheel today cuz Mama said I was good in the store."

"Gus, honey, why don't you go wash your hands and get a snack," Lindsay said as she tilted her head toward the kitchen. She placed the bag of groceries on the dining room table.  "There's a glass of milk on the table."

"Ok.  But Daddy you hurry up."

Justin felt the pit of his stomach fall out, his earlier happiness short lived. 

"Justin.  Did you..."

"The article is true.  Justin supported himself as a stripper for a company that provided entertainment for parties, usually birthdays, bachelorette, and retirement parties.  No different than working in a diner, just more lucrative,"  Brian said hoping his short explanation would end the discussion quickly.

"But..."

"I'm going to go give Gus his present," Justin joined Gus in the kitchen.

"I really don't have to explain anything to you, but I think it's important for you to understand the big picture. Justin danced to earn money so he could have more time to paint.  One of the parties he was hired for was for a birthday bash for the guy who was stalking him. The guy has pictures of Justin lap dancing since he was the guest of honor.  The guy later attended one of Justin's shows and Justin talked to him, inviting him to a gathering afterwards.  This isn't unusual, but the guy decided he was now Justin's partner.

He sent us a few pictures and made some veiled comments about being with him.  Mel and Carl suggested a restraining order and then in an effort to prevent further incidents, Tim wrote a news piece about Justin's history hoping it would deter any future problems."

"You knew about this?  Why didn't you tell me?" Linds looked accusingly at Mel.

"He was my client.  I couldn't."

"But I'm your wife. Surely..."

"No, Linds."

Lindsay swallowed and nodded her head.  "But a stripper?  Couldn't you have given him money instead? What is this going to do to his art?  I hope Carol doesn't drop him.  That would be terrible.  He's so talented.  Could this affect your business?  I'd hate to think Justin's past would ..."

"Fucking shut up.  I do not have to explain any of this shit to you,"  Brian said quietly, not wanting Gus or Justin to hear.  "We came over to give Gus some paint brushes so he can paint with Justin.  This whole situation has messed with his head.  He wasn't painting, but now he wants to paint with Gus.  I'll take anything I can get at this point.  Now, I'm going to go see my two favorite boys and play some cars."  Brian stood and walked to the kitchen.

The two women watched Brian walk away.  Lindsay sat down on the couch he recently vacated.

"Mel.  This is all so surreal.  I mean it's like a plot in a movie.  Famous painter has lurid past and the past catches up to him."  She flicked a piece of hair behind her ear.

"Linds, we all have pasts. Remember the playgirl?" Mel said, reminding her partner of her spread in a girly magazine she posed for while in college to pay her way when her family cut her off when she came out.  "Those are very public pictures and they could be very damaging to my career at this point.  I can't undo those pictures and without them I would not be here today.  Desperate times call for desperate measures.  We can't judge Justin for how he supported himself.  We weren't there.  I suggest you ignore Justin's past and support him now.  He needs all his family.  These next few months aren't going to be easy."

"Okay." She got up to grab the bag of groceries and took them into the kitchen. As she emptied the bag, she watched as the two men sat with Gus, talking to him softly.  "Justin, I'm sorry," she said, realizing this wasn't the time to pass judgment.  "It was just a surprise. When do you think Gus can come over and paint with you?"

The adrenaline coursing through Justin's blood seemed to slow down at her offer of Gus joining him to paint.  She accepted his past and if there was judgment on her part, she didn't let it stop his relationship with Gus. 

"In a few days.  Maybe the weekend.  We have some things to take care of."  Justin was purposely vague as he did not want Gus to know of the situation.

"Come on, Sonny boy.  Let's go play cars."

Gus got up from the table, placed his glass and plate in the sink and grabbed Brian's and Justin's hands as he towed them toward his play area.  "Bye mom."

"Have fun with Daddy and Justin."

Lindsay smiled as she watched Brian walk away with his son, pleased to know he was a part of Gus' life.  She did not regret that decision and realized they all made decisions in their lives.  Some were good and some not so good, but each decision led to a different path.  She liked the path she was on and hoped Justin's path would lead him to continued happiness.

TBC