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CHAPTER 2 - MORE HISTORY AND THE HUNT BEGINS


LOWER LOFT - FIVE MINUTES LATER


BRIAN


I grin at Ems. I’m so happy right now; we both are “He likes him, he really does!”


He claps his hands and pours us a glass of champagne. “Thank goodness, I thought he’d never be interested in someone again after Charles.”


“Seriously, his jaw hit the floor when he saw him!” I take down half the glass before setting up the ironing board.


“You are such an oddbody, Brian. Worth over a billion, yet won’t allow anyone to iron any clothing.” 


“Idiosyncratic sounds better.” I grumble as I start to iron. “Don’t like the sound of how Novotny turned out. Find out more. If I’ve got anything to do with it, Ted is going to be a long term fixture in Ben’s life, and you know how Ben gets when someone harms his man.”


“Indeed!” Ems chuckles as he boots up the computer. “Turned out? Do you know him?”


“Just through school. Even then he was all about being straight, but his Mom was a flaming...”


“Transvestite?”


“Hah! No, a fag hag. A very loud one but a heart of gold. I remember her working in the canteen for a couple of weeks, he was very unpopular…”


“Because she was that bad a cook?”


“No, she was excellent; he whined her into leaving, said it was embarrassing for him.” I pause in my ironing as I think back to her. “Debs was what she insisted everyone call her; and I mean everyone. It was only stopped when a complaint was made to the principal.”


“Bet it was him, but he probably said it wasn’t; did he weep and wail with disappointment when she had to leave?” 


“You sure you’ve not met him?” I laugh then we go quiet as there’s a thud from upstairs. “Do you think…”


UPPER LOFT


BEN


He is trying to get up to rescue the rug where he dropped his coffee, but I’m not letting him go. I hold up the sleeve of the gown; he uses it to wipe his eyes. “Cathartic and a long time coming?”


“Hmm…” He mumbles from my chest. “...and I’m not sorry for being here.”


“On my chest or in the loft?”


“The chest. You’re wearing cashmere, it’s very soft against my skin.” He snickers.


“You should feel my skin, only the best quality stuff is used.” I tease. Him sighing and again trying to move away disappoints me. “Are you going somewhere?” 


“For a cloth. It’s bugging me too much to leave it!” He taps my hands. “Keep my spot please.” Smiling, I let him go. He takes the cup from the table and hurries to the kitchen; he hums as he searches, then runs the tap. He’s back with a bowl and a cloth. 


“When was the last time this was used?” He chuckles, flapping the flannel in the air.” It's like cardboard!”


“No!” I cry, but it's too late. He's dunked it into the water and is ringing it out.


“Don’t panic, I’m an expert mopper upper of coffee. Now let me see here…”


“Ted, the flannel, it’s…”


“Slimy. Urgh…” He peers at the cloudy water, then at me, then at the water again. “...uh what was this used for?” 


“It’s a...it’s Brian’s cum rag.” I whisper face flaming.


“His...how do you know that? And why was it under the sink?!” He runs to the kitchen. “Bleach! Goop! Anything!” I dash to the bathroom, find some antibacterial gel and squeeze some over his hands. 


He sighs as he dries them. “So not only am I in his loft, in his robe, but I was also covered in his aged cum? Is that the size of the situation?”


“Yes.” I mumble. “I know that’s what it is because I walked in on him, them...well they’d just finished. It was a couple of years...do you want to go?”


“No…” He hiccups a laugh. “...this is the best fun I’ve had with someone else’s clothes on!” 


I’m so relieved. “Do you want more coffee then?”


“Please.” He snickers when my stomach grumbles. “Is there any food in here? I do a very good sandwich.”


“Check the fridge, we did a small shop earlier; I know there’s some bread…”


“He eats bread?!” 


“No, that's for me!” I laugh, as he surveys the contents I peer over his shoulder. “So what do you fancy?”


“Is that...which savage has done that?” He glares at me. I don’t understand. “They’ll have to come to temperature now.” He reaches for the eggs. “Unless I do scrambled, do you like scrambled?”


“I do.” I smile; he takes out the butter and milk whilst I take out the pan, oil and seasonings. “To be fair, we were in a rush when we left earlier. So where does Lindsay fit into this shitshow?”


“She’s a money hound...follows it like a bitch in heat. They reconnected when he…”


“Reconnected? So how did they know each other before?” I watch him expertly crack the eggs and taste as he seasons. 


“We all first met in writing class, but as for Michael and me, we worked together at Wertshafters, the publicity firm, as it was then called; I should’ve gone with my gut…” He stops stirring briefly, then shakes himself. “...hindsight is a beautiful thing unless you’re the one looking.” I rub his shoulder, he gives me a small smile. “We were both up for a promotion but he got it instead. I should’ve left there and then but I didn’t. Cowardly I suppose, but I loved my job. I may be a boring accountant, but I’m a boring accountant who happens to also write like Dickens. We three worked on it together in the evenings, well I worked they just lobbed in the odd word or two. Anyway, when the book was done, he said he would take it to Wertshafter and push me forward. Well we know how that went. Since found out that the Wertshafter was a homophobe, Michael outed me to him and expressed the appropriate amount of disgust, and…”


“Was, has he had a moment of humanity then?” I sneer.


“No, thankfully there’s one less of those miscreants on the planet, but he helped Michael get where he is. He became his surrogate son and when he died he left the company to him; so he had a ready made base of clients. One of whom is going to be Drew Boyd.” I stop making coffee and look at him. “I’ve kept an eye on them, figuring I can get some karmic justice on them, but…”


“You can indeed! One second! Carry on cooking!” I order before running downstairs to speak to Brian and Ems.


MICHAEL AND LINDSAY’S HOME - SAME TIME


LOUNGE


MICHAEL


“I was right, wasn't I? It is him, isn’t it?” I ask as Lindsay comes in wine and her tablet.


“Yes, he’s gorgeous!” She declares, setting the tray down. “Now let me tell you what I’ve found...Michael, use a coaster, this is antique oak. You are not in The Drone now!”


“Dome!” I spit; seething at her continual need to teach me things I can do without learning, however, instead of putting it on the coaster, I take it to the kitchen.


“Where are you going? I was talking to you!” She caws like the annoying crow she is.


“Getting some beer, which is what I was drinking before.” I call back whilst rolling my eyes. I sniff the thing that cost her $80 and scowl. “Smells like expensive vinegar; bet it tastes like that too.” I take a sip and grimace when I am proved right. After I grab the beer, I check over my shoulder, the coast is clear so take great joy in starting to pour it down the sink.


“What are you doing?!” I drop the glass in surprise. “Michael! That’s from Baccarat, why are you so clumsy and uncultured? Just that clean that up; don’t forget to put it on the list of yet another thing you’ve got to replace!”


Knowing she will only stand over me until I do, I get on with it. My mind drifts to my liaison tomorrow, but then I feel a sharp pain. “Fuck!” I yelp; she doesn’t hide her smirk as she hands me a tissue. “Get the kit, I need a plaster! This is your fault, you saw me drinking beer!” She slams it on the table then starts the garbage disposal. It takes a few minutes for my finger to stop bleeding, she stands there silently judging me. 


“It’s a good job it's not your writing hand.” She snarks as she passes me the ‘’things you’ve broken’ notebook. 


She stands over me whilst I write; she has the nerve to check it before putting it back then heading back to the lounge. I follow shooting dark looks at her back. “Before you drink yourself to a stupor because you weren’t hit on, what did you find out?!”


“Read it yourself, I’m going to bed. And I was hit on, I just respect the image we’ve spent years cultivating enough not to ruin it. Who was it that almost got caught with Jerome, and by Justin of all people! Still not got him to sign that contact and the NDA yet, have you?” 


I fume at her taunts. Justin Taylor is an extraordinary artist - well, according to her. I don’t understand his daubings myself. But he’s not signing up with us. Yes, he gets who we are and the prestige we can bring, but he’s very much out to his friends and won’t go back in, no matter what we tell him about how that could be detrimental to his career. 


Both Lindsay and I were furious that we couldn’t use our ‘tried and tested’ method of getting him on our books: set him up with someone and have them approach us with the evidence and we suggest damage control. I take comfort in that’s how we got Drew Boyd, the soon to be retired Ironman. Rumours had been circulating about him for years. My radar was pinging the moment we met at the press conference, so I sent my bait boy, Jerome, and of course he bit faster than a Howard Bellwether at the barebacking party! So naturally he was all on board when I told him that I would be happy to be the go-between and salvage his image. We’re unveiling him in a couple of weeks time, oh how we crowed when we landed him. He’s going to bring in millions. Lindsey's insistence that he announces his engagement to his secret girlfriend, who doesn’t like publicity, was a masterstroke. The only downside to the book launch in a couple of weeks time is the shopping for yet another monkey suit I’ll have to endure.


“I will get him, Lindsay; I always get who I want, when I want them. I just don’t want him yet.”


“Of course you don’t. And which want don’t you want, him on our books or him up your ass? He may twinkle, which is kinda of your jam, but he’s a top, and according to sources an excellent one; never bottoms. And you can’t have it get about what you really do in your midden, can you?!” She sneers before sauntering out, chuckling. 


I pull on my beer fuming about how right - as ever - she is. I really would love to have him bend for me, but he’s not shown anything but business disinterest. 


He reminds me so much of Brian Kinney, oh how I hate him! He ruined my relationship with my Mother, all because he reminded her of a young Uncle Vic, who, thank God, is living it up in San Francisco, but on my dime. He was very smug about me having to pay for his silence, it was particularly galling when he said that nobody knows that we’re related, such is his shame and disgust at my treatment of Ted. I told him it is a dog eat dog world out there, it’s not my fault that Ted is a pathetic lab and I’m a ruthless doberman. 


I think back to school and how all the girls swooned when Brian first arrived. How the boys swarmed around him waiting to be his ‘dude’. I couldn’t have that, I was one of the most popular boys in school before he came along. So I started rumours about him being dirt poor and stealing things from other students. At first it was working, but then I put out the rumour of him stealing the senior jock’s girlfriend. None of the rumours ever came back to me, of course. I waited for him to be put in the place he belonged: the bottom of the dung heap, but then he did something that I never thought anyone of that age would do, he came out. I remember it clear as day, when the jock confronted him in the hallway he drawled ‘I’d rather steal you, just for the night. I don’t do long term relationships, we’d just fuck and move on.”


I had visions of him getting the shit kicked out of him; I couldn’t believe it when the jock just laughed. And when he said he suspected as much but didn’t think he would ever say anything; Kinney shrugged and replied ‘unless my cock is up your ass or in yours is in my mouth, what I do with my life is none of your business.’ Naturally, they became great friends and he surpassed me in popularity. I was cast into the shadows, and hated it. I vowed never to be in that position again.


I settle down on the sofa and read what Lindsay found and choke on my beer. He’s done it again; beaten me without even trying, or I should imagine, knowing! He’s a billionaire owning a string of nightclubs in New York, Los Angeles, California and wants to open one here! Jerome had mentioned that there was a new club opening, but as everyone knows that The Dome is the best around and don’t go to the others, it didn’t bother me. Not that the others affect my pocketbook since I part own the Boi Toi and Popperz and have been slowly running them into the ground. The only club I didn’t have my finger in the pie of, Meathook, closed down months ago, it was a prime spot on Liberty Avenue, with a sense of dread I investigate further. Twenty minutes later, my heart pounds and sinks in equal measure. He has purchased the site, and judging by the ones he owns, it’s gonna put me and The Dome in the shadows. 


I won’t be beaten by him again, I won’t! There must be something I can get on him. I make a note before draining my beer and heading to bed. 


UPPER LOFT - TWENTY MINUTES LATER


BEN


“They were the best scrambled eggs I’ve ever had, thank you!” I beam at Ted, who blushes as he takes up the plates. I follow with the glasses. “Your clothes are perfectly ironed, by the way; they’re in the bedroom. So you want me to call you that cab?” He yawns hugely before nodding. “Okay, what’s your address?” He's leaning against the cupboard saying nothing. “Ted, are you alright?” I touch his shoulder and he jerks awake. “You are totally wiped. Why not sleep here?”


“Oh no, no I couldn’t do that!” He gasps, whilst looking longingly at the sofa. 


“Please, Ted, I would feel better if you stayed the night. Besides, in doing so, it starts our plan of action to pay back Michael and Lindsay.” He yawns then smacks his tongue, his beautiful brown eyes are drifting shut again. “Which Brian can tell you when you go for breakfast with him at the diner.”


“Hmmm.  Breakfast with Brian, okay.” He mumbles before his eyes snap open. “Pardon?”


“Like I said, he will explain when he comes and picks you up.” I take his elbow; he allows himself to be led to the chair. He looks confused. “Am going to open the sofa…” It doesn't take me long. He’s really struggling, so I am thankful that it’s still mostly made up. “...Ted, get in, I’m just going to get an eiderdown.” He gets into bed then takes off his robe, dropping it on the floor. “I’ll get some jammies then, or would you prefer your boxers.”


“Oh my god!” He cries going bright red, which I think is adorable! “Can I have my boxers please?” Chuckling I fetch them then turn around so he can put them on, I snort when he dives under the blankets. “All done.” He calls out, I lay the eiderdown on top of him. “Silk, of course, it’s silk.”


“What did you do with all the money he gave you?” I frown as I make sure he’s as snug as a bug. 


“Nothing, still in the bank.” He strokes the material. “Although, I think I will treat myself to one of these, so soft.” I take off my socks and tuck myself in behind him, on top of the eiderdown; he turns around. “Are you going to read me a bedtime story?”


“No, I’m going to give a kiss goodnight and hold you until you go to sleep.” I return; doing exactly that. When I wake up a few hours later, he snuffles an objection and moves closer when I try to let him go. “Okay, I’ll stay.” I murmur, kissing his forehead. My heart soars at the sleepy ‘good’ I get in response.

 

I set my alarm for nine and look forward to showing Michael that karma is six foot two and weighs 250 pounds, and he's messed with my man for the last time!

Chapter End Notes:

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