Mel lowered her binoculars to nudge Lindsay softly in the side, eliciting an irritated grunt from her partner. "Look at him! He looks as if he's falling asleep at the table."
"For God's sake, Mel. Give the man a break. No one's skating right now. They're announcing the next participant," Lindsay answered while continuing to look on to watch Brian's attention to the competition... or lack thereof.
"Well, guess it doesn't matter. He showed up... that's a miracle in itself," Mel scoffed.
Lindsay lowered the binoculars, turning to glare at her partner. As much as she loved Mel, the constant attacks on Brian were beginning to get on her last nerve. Of course, she couldn't say Brian was much better regarding Mel... but she didn't live with him, nor hear it from him, day in and day out. Trying to be discreet as they sat scrunched tightly inside the arena, Lindsay snapped, "Just let it go, Mel. Don't forget Brian is doing me a huge favor here. And when he helps me... he is, in essence, helping us..."
"Fine, whatever. I don't want to argue with you, Linds. Just keep in mind he's only helping you if he actually does the job he's here to do. As it is right now... he doesn't seem very focused," Mel shrewdly observed.
Flipping open her phone, Lindsay messaged him: Brian, I hope you realize you are here to do a job. Not mope around like you have lost your best friend. Please, focus... These contestants are counting on you.
"There. I sent him a message regarding his behavior... happy now?" Lindsay grumbled, before returning her gaze to the ice and the next of the participants. "Thankfully, the list isn't as long this year. Justin is up after this one. I have a feeling Brian will perk up nicely then..."
"Oh, that's just great. Our young friend will be eye-fucked or worse. I'm telling you if he fucks this up for Justin... that will be the last straw," Melanie said between gritted teeth.
"If he somehow ruins Justin's chances - which I don't believe that he will - you will have to take your place in line behind ME."
Meanwhile...
Daphne began bouncing excitedly in her seat, looking at the program she quickly observed that Justin would be up in mere moments. "Look, Mrs. Taylor... Justin is up next."
"Yes, I know, Daphne. I do hope he does well," Jennifer Taylor whispered in an unusual show of nervousness.
"Oh, don't worry. Justin will ace this event. Have you been watching it? The rest of his competition has received only average marks so far. And this is only for the short program. I do hope I talked him out of attempting the quad... I know he wants to impress the judges, most especially one in particular, but he just isn't ready for that," Daphne murmured hesitantly.
"Quad? He wouldn't, would he? As soon as Brian Kinney was named as a judge, I was worried. This is Justin's dream... and to skate for him is awe-inspiring for him. I just hope he can handle the pressure."
Peering down at the judges' table, trying to find the one in question, Daphne soon found the only man who could possibly be Justin's hero. He was too far away to see what he was doing, but it looked like he was entering his marks for the current contestant. With a sigh, she answered, "Well, we will know soon. Oh, I didn't tell you. Justin messaged me a short while ago to say he had met Brian before the event started. He said he was very encouraging and nice to him. It's going to be fine, Mrs. Taylor... I just know it is."
Jennifer, suddenly a bundle of nerves nodded, as she clutched onto her armrest in a virtual death grip, watching as the skater's marks were posted. She groaned when she saw the tabulated average populate across the boards. Shaking her head, she gasped, "This one, the man from Springfield, Illinois - Martin Levinsky was the one to worry about... look at his marks. 5.69. The highest score is a 6.0... nobody ever gets that. Justin will need to be flawless. Oh my God, I almost can't bear to watch..."
"No, you have to watch... for Justin. He will do it... he has to! This is his dream. I swear he will do it," Daphne vowed fervently as she waited for the announcement to be made.
Moments later, she heard the bold announcement across the PA system.
Next, from Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania - at twenty-one years of age, Justin Taylor skating to a shortened version of Bohemian Rhapsody.
Daphne's eyes stared straight ahead to await Justin's emergence onto the ice, her eyes sliding over to the judges' table; even from a distance, she noticed the back of Brian Kinney straightening when Justin's name was called. She smiled in remembrance with part of the message she didn't feel comfortable repeating to Justin's mom: Daph, I swear when I was walking away... Brian Kinney was checking out my ass. As Justin skated out to the middle of the ice, head held down waiting for his music to begin, she applauded and whispered under her breath, "Focus, Justin... you can do it. Show the man of your dreams how fucking awesome you are, because I have the feeling he's going to be watching very closely..."
Minutes earlier, Brian had felt the vibration of his iPhone. Uncaring that it was highly inappropriate to be reading it now, he opened it to scowl at Lindsay's not unexpected reprimand. He figured they would be here watching him closely, most especially the bitch that was assisting in the raising of his son. He closed it in irritation, glaring at the judges on both sides of him that huffed at his lack of attention to the task at hand. He began to tap his fingers on the table impatiently waiting for the next competitor to take the ice, unwilling to admit to himself that he could be anxiously anticipating one particular blue-eyed blond that was to be performing directly thereafter.
Forcing himself to remember why he was here, he concentrated on the current skater; a twenty-two-year-old from Illinois. Brian watched him move about the ice... his program technically flawless, yet there was no fire to it. Nothing original. For certain, nothing he hadn't viewed a hundred times over before, both in his own experience re-watching his competitions, along with watching others as a spectator. He looked to his left and right incredulously as he heard the other judges giving oohs and aahs as he twirled in front of them, before launching into a triple toe loop, landing it perfectly before them, proceeding to zigzag around the arena to build up to his finish.
Were these idiots blind? Where was the passion on the ice? The finesse that took your breath away from everything that did not revolve around the sheer perfection of this skilled art... it was missing in this performance, and still, these judges were enamored of this stiff, and lifeless program. He shook his head in disbelief as he entered his marks, giving a much higher score than he thought was deserved, growling at himself when he noticed he miss-clicked on a 5.6 when he had wanted to enter a 4.6. "Fuck," he growled aloud, seeing once he had entered his scores, he could not change it.
"Is there a problem, Brian?" came the nasal voice of the most recent Olympic Silver Medalist that was no longer competing in professional figure skating.
"Sure is, Clyde. This system where it locks in is fucked up. Entered my score wrong, probably in irritation at how this group was fussing over something that was mediocre at best," Brian snapped in response.
"What do you care, anyway? You obviously don't want to be here... in fact, you turned your back on the sport years ago," came the disinterested retort.
"It doesn't mean I want the wrong person to win."
"The wrong person, as you so eloquently phrase it, is considered to be a top contender, outside of the dark horse that is up next. Now, that one is impressive. If he does a program with no miscues, he could win it all," Clyde told him, obviously speaking of Justin Taylor.
"If he's that good... Why a dark horse?" Brian asked, more curious than he wanted to admit.
"Simple lack of exposure. He has competed at a few events, he received medals in all of them, but the training program he's under is not high profile. If he wins this event, he will need a stricter, more seasoned coach if he is to succeed at the Olympic level," he answered, soon to wave Brian quiet as Justin Taylor was being announced to take the ice.
Brian rolled his eyes at the comment, another remark of idiocy. He had a substandard coach... and look how he finished. Certainly, it was beneficial... most particularly in the case of one that needed extra guidance... but if you truly had the gift it was not necessary. Smiling as he remembered his meeting with the gorgeous Justin Taylor, he hoped the blond had it in spades. For some unknown reason, he really wanted this boy to excel.
Moments later, Brian's eyes felt to be bulging out of their sockets as he watched the boy skating out onto the middle of the ice. "Holy fuck," he rasped out unintentionally, as his eyes focused on the tightly bound pants and sequined shirt on this all too perfect blond vision. He leaned forward, propping his chin in his hand wondering if he was about to commence drooling at any given moment. The pants gave the illusion of being painted onto his slender, yet perfectly proportioned form. The sparkling of the sequins on his shirt was dazzling and brought attention to the compact, yet oh so masculine chest. Brian shook his head in wonder at the perfection of this exquisite morsel.
A morsel that the hunter fully intended to seek and devour... at the earliest given opportunity.
How the fuck had they both lived in Pittsburgh and never crossed paths? Well, Mr. Taylor, Brian smirked to himself... now that had changed. I do hope you give the performance of a lifetime today... because when I get my hands on your delectable ass, not to mention the well-endowed cock I can see so beautifully displayed, you will be on the receiving end of another kind of performance. In one that I excel.
His eyes glazed over in lust and burning in a need unlike any he had never previously known before this moment; Brian whispered in his mind: I will fuck you so hard you will beg me to stop... and when you beg me to finish you, I will... before I start all over again.
TBC