Justin's jaw dropped as he sat across from his mom in the small coffee shop, incredulous about what she had just told him. Shaking his head as if to clear the fog, he asked, "Would you mind repeating that?"

"Unfortunately, you heard me correctly. Your father said, unequivocally, regardless if you win or lose the competition, he's cutting off the funding for your trainer," Jennifer Taylor repeated for her son. "Although, I guess we should be thankful he's letting you get through the championship first."

"Even if I win? But that's all I need to give me a shot at the Olympics. Does he understand that?" Justin gasped.

"I'm sorry, Justin. He doesn't seem to care, as much as I hate to admit it. He said he's tired of pouring money into what should be nothing more than a hobby, something that can never be a career. I've done all I can, but I don't want you to worry - we will figure something out," Jennifer said, squeezing her son's hand tightly.

"A hobby? This is my fucking life, Mom! My dream, one I have held since I first learned how to lace my skates. Why tell me now? Just two days before the competition, this is the last thing I need!" Justin exclaimed, scowling at the irritated glares he was receiving from the other customers.

She glanced around at the nearby tables, casting apologetic glances, before answering, "Your father is telling your coach today. I wanted you to hear it from me."

"Don't worry, Mom. I'll figure something out. For now, I just can't think about this, I can't let anything pull my focus away from the Nationals. I won't," Justin vowed in determination. "Out of curiosity, does this have anything at all to do with him discovering I'm gay?"

"Discovering? Do you mean when you told him? He hasn't said so, but I have caught the references of him insisting he would not pander to ‘that lifestyle'."

"My father hates me because I'm gay, and is set on a course to destroy my dreams. Well, it's not going to happen. I don't want him at the championship. Please make sure he's not there," Justin virtually begged.

"I don't think you need to worry about that. He has stated emphatically he won't be attending. I will be bringing your sister, and Daphne is coming with us as well. We will cheer as loudly as our lungs will allow, that I promise you," she said with a smile.

Smiling brightly, Justin nodded, "I know you will. I need to go. Coach has the rink booked for an additional hour of practice."

"Don't practice too hard, Justin. You are more than ready for this event. In two days, you will wear that gold medal around your neck, showing the country you are the best figure skater ever to don skates," Jennifer told him proudly.

With a somber expression, Justin corrected, "Second best, the best is retired from the sport. Nobody will ever compete on ice like him."

"Ahhh yes, your hero, the one who inspired you to follow your dream. I would thank him if I could. This entire journey has developed your self-awareness and confidence into the dazzling young man you have become."

Justin stood, kissing his mom softly on the cheek, whispering, "Don't worry about me, Mom. It will all work out. Wish me luck?"

"You don't need it, sweetheart. I have all the faith in the world in you. When you are finished, they will forget all about Brian Kinney," she smiled, watching his eyes light up at the mention of his hero.

"Not possible, Mom. But I don't mind sharing the spotlight with that man," Justin said almost dreamily as he thought about his idol.

Brian lifted a dubious brow as Lindsay placed the steak and her special scalloped potatoes in front of him. Melanie was on the other side refilling his wine. They both sat down at the table, watching him expectantly, drinking their wine but not eating.

After taking a few small bites, Brian looked from one to the other; his eyebrow arching, shaking his head in resignation knowing this was going to cost him. Not wishing to delay the agony any longer, he withdrew his checkbook, scrawled his signature in the lower corner, before he spoke, "Okay, how much this time?"

"I don't need your money, Brian. I just thought it had been a while since you had been over for anything other than a quick visit with Gus."

With a snort, Melanie muttered, "Emphasis on the quick."

"Mel! Be nice, please, " Lindsay protested.

"How about I give Gus his bath, then the two of you can fight it out," she said with a saucy smile. "I'm telling you, he won't do it, Linds. Give it up and move on to the next candidate."

Brian's eyes narrowed on Lindsay, before he asked, "Okay, now that the bitch is gone, tell me what you want."

"Brian, please. Can't you try to get along with Mel, not only for my sake but for your son's as well?" she snapped at him.

"Sorry, Linds, there's only so much public service I can do, " he quirked.

"How about we just change the subject then. I wonder, did you notice the Nationals are just in a couple of days?" she asked, looking at him inquiringly.

Taking a swallow of his wine, he produced his most bored expression as he answered, "Can't say that it crossed my mind amid all my clubbing, sucking, and fucking, oh, and let's not forget the rimming."

"Brian! Really! But about that, how's it going at Babylon? You've owned it for a couple of months now," she asked, in an obvious attempt to patronize him and work his mood in a favorable direction for her.

"Babylon is my most profitable investment, and it certainly keeps my dick well taken care of, " he replied, tongue in cheek.

She laughed despite herself, saying, "Can't you have a serious conversation for one minute?"

"I was being serious, anyways, let's cut to the chase, if not money - what do you need from me?" he asked, seeing that this endless chatter was getting them nowhere, and he had places to be, and most definitely bodies to do.

"Well, one of my best clients at the gallery is in a bit of a bind. She's in charge of the judging for the Nationals, and it appears one of the judges is out of the country and cannot be here for the competition. She had a replacement in mind, one she thought would be good publicity for not only the competition but for the selected judge as well," she prompted, looking at Brian with deep soulful eyes, pleading with him to acquiesce.

Eyes narrowing in disbelief, Brian nearly shouted, "Oh, hell no, Linds! I got out of that circus years ago, you are NOT dragging me back."

"Brian, please, this means a lot to me. My client knows you are a close, personal friend of mine, and Gus' father - doing this for her will help me immensely," she practically begged.

"If I do this, I will have every damn hopeful parent hounding me to coach their kid, I've finally moved past that, and you want to reopen that door," he growled in irritation.

"I wouldn't ask this if it wasn't really important to me. Please do this for me, and I will be in your debt."

"Thought you already were," he scoffed. "Alright fine, if it will get me out of Muncherville. When and where?"

"Thank you so much, Brian. It's in two days, and the great thing is you don't have to leave town, it's here in Pittsburgh," she answered enthusiastically, kissing him soundly on the cheek.

Scowling he said, "Great, the hounding will commence locally."

"Now, Brian, don't be that way. And admit it, you love figure skating - this just might be fun."

"Fun. Yes, only if I find any nice tight ass to nail in the arena," he answered, turning his lip down.

Moving toward the end of the table, she retrieved a file, sliding it toward him. Telling him, "This file contains a picture and a brief bio on all of the primary contenders. Just a little info since you will be out of the loop in comparison to the other judges."

"Fine, I'll look it over. Now, if you don't mind, I need to be going," he said, kissing her on the cheek.

"Thank you, Brian. This means so much to me," she said gratefully, eyes narrowing on him sharply as he moved toward the door. "One other thing..."

With an impatient sigh, he turned to her asking, "What now?"

"Remember the importance of decorum in this event. Do not screw it up for any of these deserving competitors," she warned him.

Arching a brow, he asked, "Meaning what, exactly?"

"Meaning this - for once don't be typical Brian Kinney. You're a judge, you cannot fuck any of those competing. Promise me you won't."

With a laugh, Brian responded, "The things you concoct up in that little lesbian mind. As if I would want to fuck any of these people."

"Just promise me, Brian. You can destroy this competition if you do your standard fucking around."

Brian paused for a moment, shaking his head at her in disbelief before leafing through the folder, making judgments aloud as he viewed each picture, "Boring, utterly forgettable, ugly, goofy, too happy..." Closing the folder with a loud snap, not even looking at all of them, he replied in boredom, "I see nothing in here to cause my cock to stir in the slightest... if anything, they would provoke it to wither away."

"Just keep in mind, these young people's futures hinge on this event, don't blow it, please."

"Don't you worry, Wendy, you can trust me," he winked, before stepping out toward his Vette. What he didn't tell a much-concerned Lindsay, was that his eyes did see a face that intrigued him, attached to a blond head with beautiful blue eyes. If the rest of the body looked nearly as good as his face, Brian knew maneuvering the little skater into a private session with him would be extremely hard to resist. He smiled as he thought the Nationals could just be entertaining, after all.

TBC