Brian Kinney was bored. He walked barefoot through the sand on his expanse of private beach, his eyes seeing nothing of the clear-blue skies, the waves cascading in the distance, nor of the perfection of the property or the life that was his own. He had everything a man could possibly want - that was, except one thing... someone to share it with. Brian shrugged his shoulders. Long ago, he had decided that to be an overrated ideal. Why did he need anyone when he had this?

He was a mere thirty-four years old, and a self-made millionaire. A couple of years ago, he had liquidated his holdings. He still maintained his stock investments; he had known he would be a fool not to do that, but everything else he had sold to the highest bidders. At the time, he had thought an early retirement would ease the aching feeling in his gut... one that he refused to acknowledge as loneliness. He was Brian Kinney, the world was his playground - he couldn't possibly be so pathetic as to be lonely. In his own reality, and concise mind - it was unthinkable.

He had spent the first year traveling. There wasn't a country, continent, or island that he'd wanted to see that he hadn't visited, and perhaps somewhat enjoyed. After a few days, they all became the same. The staff catered to his every whim, as they did every place he went, the men were hot and accommodating. That wasn't a rarity, either. He could find that virtually anywhere as well. In the end, his traveling always brought him back home. He could make a home anywhere in the world he wanted, but he always returned to his beachfront home in Florida. A part of him wondered if fate had something in store for him here, but the more pragmatic side of him shrugged that away. He didn't believe in fate. A man made his own destiny. Circumstances of nature, the stars, or something entirely supernatural didn't control him. His life was what he had chosen. Until something happened to make him choose differently, this was what it would be.

Silently, he walked along the beach, clad in nothing but some cut-off jean shorts, the snap undone, knowing he would end this day as he did all the others - fucking, drinking, perhaps a few recreational drugs, and more fucking. What could be more perfect for a ridiculously wealthy gay man? He smiled when he heard his houseman, and friend, shouting and running from the distance. Emmett constantly made his sour moods lighter. He had a gift of making the most dire situation into one that made sense. He had never referred to him as a servant, even though that would be acceptable in his circles. Employee perhaps. Most of all, he thought of Emmett as his friend and confidante. Without him around, that repugnant word of loneliness could be firmly attached to him. Thankfully, that wasn't the case.

"Brian..." Emmett waved and shouted from the distance, just close enough to be heard. "Your two o'clock is here..."

His two o'clock? Fuck. He'd forgotten all about his afternoon assignation. Brian nodded, slowly moving to approach Emmett. A blank look on his face, Brian asked, "Is he hot? I don't remember..."

Clapping his hands and cackling in delight, Emmett exclaimed, "Brian, darling, only you would forget the face and body of a stud you met only last night. Yes, I think you might call him hot... even by your standards."

"Hmmm. Sounds impressive." Brian patted Emmett on the shoulder, steadily making his way back to the house. "I'd better not keep him waiting."

Emmett had a sad smile on his face as he watched Brian almost lethargically making his way to the house. Such a shame, he thought to himself. Brian had so much to offer a man, but that special one constantly eluded him. He wasn't even certain such a creature existed for either him or Brian, although he hoped for it. For now, all Brian could do was what he had done for years past... living one day at a time, in the hopes that one day his Prince would come. Brian might not realize he wished for that, but Emmett knew he did. He giggled as he thought how much Brian would probably spoil and protect the man he loved.

If only such a man existed. Brian may have given up hope in the existence of such a man, but he hadn't. Until then, all they could each do was live one day at a time.

Justin was sitting on the front porch, ever mindful of the time. He hadn't said a word to his mom when he got home, nothing more than an alert that he would be going out tonight. She didn't question it. He was seventeen, almost eighteen... and it was summer. His not going out would probably seem even odder. He heard her calling from the kitchen, but his mind was in one place - Chris fucking Hobbs. He wouldn't relax until that boy was in his place, and his abuse of him and his friends was over. He wasn't sure how he would achieve it... he only knew that he had to do it.

Opening the screen door on their small riverfront house, Jennifer spoke louder, "Justin! I've been calling for you. I thought you had left early."

He turned his head to see the frown on her face, a slight smile of reassurance appearing on his own. He hated when he stressed her out. She had been through so much since his father had abandoned them. It was a miracle she kept everything together. Now that he was almost an adult, he had a clearer grasp on everything that had been thrust upon her. Getting a job was his top priority. Helping relieve her load was all that mattered to him now. "Hey Mom, sorry. Guess I was just thinking."

"I see that." Jennifer smiled at him. She stepped onto the porch, her eyes touching warmly on her son, her heart breaking at how little she now had to offer her children. Justin had recently graduated, life should be bright and promising for him. She had nothing but her own hopes and dreams to offer him. Regardless that many of their problems had arrived on the heels of Craig's departure, she still felt like a failure. Only a miracle would pull them from this dump of a home, and the life they lived. Jennifer was ever the realist - miracles didn't exist in her world. In fact, she wasn't sure they existed in any.

Justin stood up, knowing it was nearing the time he left to meet Chris, slightly surprised at how calm he felt in the face of it all. "Did you need something before I leave?"

"Oh yeah. I was wondering if you could pick up a gallon of milk on your way home. I'm not sure we have enough for the morning." Jennifer reached into her pocket and handed him a five-dollar bill, her eyes studying him quizzically. "So... are you going out with Daphne and the rest of the gang?"

Taking the money from her, Justin quickly pocketed it, shaking his head in response. "No. Well, we'll be meeting up, but I'm going by myself." When she appeared to be expecting more, Justin rushed on, "We're just hanging out... no big plans."

"Okay." She smiled at him, something about his words or even his voice not quite right with her, but what exactly she didn't know. "If you ever need to talk about anything, Justin, I hope you know you can come to me."

"I know." He reached into his pocket for the keys to his beat-up old Chevy, calling back to her to say, "I won't be out late."

Smiling, she watched as he slipped into his car, her voice shouting out above the drone of the engine, "Be careful!"

Justin peeled out of the driveway, his hand waving in acknowledgment of his mother's parting words. Be careful, he thought to himself. He wasn't even sure of what was going to happen tonight. One thing was for certain - he didn't trust Chris Hobbs. He would be certain to keep his eyes open before his arrival... and at the slightest sign of an ambush - he would make his escape. He only hoped an easy escape would be possible.

After parking at the far end of the beach, very close to their meeting place, he glanced at the clock on his dashboard, his concern only growing. It was now five minutes after nine. Chris was already late. From his vantage point, he could see their exact meeting place - it was far too abandoned. Almost as if it had been designed to be. He stepped from the car, his eyes nervously darting around. His biggest fear was that his friends would show up and get in the middle. He had repeatedly asked them to stay away. Michael and Ethan would probably adhere to that; however, Daphne worried him.

Moving in unhurried steps to the section of beach where he was to meet Chris, he scowled when he noticed Daphne sitting on the beach, her fingers working urgently on the keypad on her phone. "What the fuck, Daph! I told you to stay out of this. What are you doing here?"

Standing to her feet, she ran to greet Justin. "Fuck, Justin! Don't you ever answer your phone? I've been trying to call you..."

"I didn't get any calls." Justin reached into his pocket, quickly realizing the phone was still in his car. "Why are you calling? And where's Chris?"

"That's why I called. Michael tried to call you too. His mom heard on the police scanner that your mom's car had just been vandalized. Cops are on the way there now." She looked around, her eyes narrowing when she suddenly observed how vacant this part of the beach was now. "Uhhh, there's nobody here. That's really strange."

Justin's face reddened in anger. "Yeah, it is. Hobbs is behind this, and I wouldn't be surprised with the help of his dear old daddy."

"You don't know that, Justin. Maybe someone delayed Chris... or I don't know - something." Daphne averted her gaze, not believing for a minute that Chris wasn't involved in this - his absence here now all the more suspicious.

"I gotta get back home." Justin began running in the direction of his car, never doubting that Daphne was right behind him. Barely noticing her car wasn't here, he motioned impatiently to her. "Get in. I'll take you home."

"No. You need to get to your mom first..." She closed the door, flinching at the harsh sound of Justin starting up the engine. "You really need a new car, Jus."

Justin snorted. "Yeah. I'll put that on the list."

As he pulled away from the beach, Daphne asked him, "Where's your phone?"

"Look in the glove compartment. I probably forgot to turn it on..." In hindsight, Justin realized that wasn't the smartest of moves. He had been heading out for this meeting, his phone off, and locked away in his car. He pressed his foot on the accelerator, uncaring at this moment of speed, or the protesting sounds his car made in the process. All that mattered was getting home and checking on his mom and sister.

Fishing for the phone, she pulled it out, quickly powering it on. She quickly saw all the missed calls, one just moments ago from his mom. "Your mom just called. Maybe you should stop and call her back."

Justin shook his head. "No. We're almost there. I don't want to stop." He increased his speed, his ears picking up sirens in the far distance. Typical. He would get home before the police arrived. A crime on their side of town obviously wasn't a priority. They should have already been there. As he pulled into the driveway, he could see the neighbors huddling around his mom, none of them able to console her.

"Mom! What happened?" Justin rushed forward, pushing his way between the seemingly well-intentioned neighbors that he suspected were more curiosity seekers than anything else.

"Look at my car, Justin! My tires were slashed, and the back windshield was totally broken out." She sobbed uncontrollably. "My insurance doesn't cover this. How am I going to pay for it... or even get back and forth to work!"

He pulled his mom into his arms, hugging her close, giving her the time to cry it out on his shoulder. He felt like the adult sometimes. It was way too fucking strange. "It'll be okay, Mom. We'll figure it out." He watched as Daphne walked around the car, unable to miss the gasp that escaped her. "Don't touch anything back there, Daph."

"I won't, but I think you should see this, Justin." She bit at her lip as she stared at the wooden baseball bat. Sprayed on it in red letters the word - FAGGOT - was clearly displayed. There wouldn't be a doubt in Justin's mind who perpetrated this horrid attack. She had been scared earlier when Justin set up the meeting with Chris. Now, she was even more so. This was going to end badly.

Stepping away from his mom, Justin's eyes took in the damage, and then the weapon obviously used to produce it. He was completely oblivious to the officers coming up behind him to survey the damage. His anger had closed him completely away from everything and everyone. That was - everyone but the twisted Chris Hobbs. "I'm gonna kill him for this; I swear I will!"

TBC