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Brian spent the afternoon working on the Pool Boy account. He got a twisted sense of satisfaction when he worked on this campaign, as he knew every penny that was made from his advertising was a sore spot for the homophobic owner of the company. He smiled as he remembered the night he had the owner come to Woody's to see the new campaign, and the man just about shit in his pants when he realized it was a gay bar. Brian always liked it when he put the screws to men like that asshole; he was more than pleased with himself at the moment.

He picked up the phone and dialed Ted's extension at Kinnetik.

"Hello, Ted Schmidt speaking," Ted replied as he picked up the phone.

"Ted! Get your ass down here now and pick up the Pool Boy account. I want it at the art department as soon as possible, and tell that asshole Thomas that I want the mock ups done by next week," Brian demanded.

"Hey, Brian. I guess you're feeling better. Are you still at the hospital?" Ted calmly said, ignoring Brian's rudeness.

"Of course I am, you idiot, otherwise I would be in the office, and I could walk them down there myself. Now, get in that boring car of yours and drive yourself over here to pick up these storyboards. We have a deadline, and our customers don't like to be kept waiting."

"Sure thing, Brian. It's 4:00 now. I'll be down by 6:00 . I'll take them home with me tonight. and deliver them to the art department first thing in the morning."

Brian sighed loudly into the phone. "I guess that will have to do. I can't wait until I get out of this hellhole and can do things the right way," Brian snarked.

"Later, Brian," Ted said as he hung up, shaking his head.

The words brought memories of Justin to the forefront of Brian's mind. Justin has never, ever left my room without saying 'Later'. It's almost like a talisman. Geez, I am becoming a lesbian, trying to analyze everything. If I don't get out of here soon, I'll want to talk about everything. Or eat pussy. Brian shivered at the thought.

He placed the completed ad storyboard on the table, and flipped on the television. Christ, who watches this drivel? There was some loud, oversized black women talking about bargain hunting on one channel, and on another channel there was a craggy old lady in judge's robes banging her gavel.

He didn't notice the slight knock on the door, but Debbie did not wait for an okay to enter, instead barging in without the least thought that she might not be welcome.  "Oh, Judge Judy. I just love her! Why, last week she had two people arguing about a fence on their property. The one lady claimed that the other lady owed her for half the fence since they shared the property, but the second lady didn't want to pay since she didn't agree to putting up the fence. What is the case today?"

Brian looked over to the door. "You watch this shit? Why am I not surprised? Never mind, don't answer that. Sit down," he said as he saw she had pulled a chair over to the middle of the room. "Knock yourself out."

Debbie watched for a few minutes and a commercial came on. She turned to Brian and grabbed the bag she had placed on the floor. "With Sunshine gone this weekend, I thought you could use some cheering up. I brought you some lemon bars." She handed the bag to Brian.

He opened it and took a whiff of the lemon treat. "Thanks. You've delivered your bars. Now. don't you have to go home and cook for the cop?"

Debbie hit him gently on the back of the head.

"What's that for?"

"Where do I begin? For starters, having Sunshine kick me out of the room the other day; that was not very nice! After all, I'm almost your fucking mom." She smacked her gum for several minutes before continuing. "Then, of course, there is the small matter that you owe me an explanation for why you overdosed in the first place. And of course, you also need to be nicer to your visitors." She turned her attention back to the television to see what the judge's ruling was on the case.

Brian put his thumb and forefinger up to the bridge of his nose and pushed, trying to stave the headache that was threatening to return.

What is it with everyone and their incessant need to harp on the overdose?

"Shut off the damn television, Deb. I refuse to talk over that crazy bitch," Brian directed.

Deb took the control and turned off the television, then turned to Brian, tears in her eyes.

"Brian Aidan Kinney, what the fuck were you thinking? Scaring me like that! I almost had a heart attack myself when I heard," Debbie said as she brought her hand over her heart.

"So I had a little too much to drink and took a few too many drugs. I'm here to be bitched at about it. What's the big deal?" Brian deadpanned.

Debbie stood up and paced the small room. "The big deal is that you almost died. Think of all the people that it would've affected. First off, there's Sunshine. He would be devastated. Then there's Michael. He still worships the ground the great ‘Brian Kinney' walks on." She walked over to Brian's chair, poking him in the chest for emphasis. "You can't forget Gus or Melanie and Lindsay. The list is pretty long, asshole."

Brian rubbed the spot where Debbie poked him. "Whatever. It didn't happen, so there's really no use talking about it. I told Justin I would be more careful."

"You do always keep your word," Debbie remarked. She continued to walk around the small room. "But I'm still waiting for an apology for Sunshine kicking me out the other day."

"Justin was following my wishes. He saw that I was tired," Brian said, not liking the need to explain, or to justify his or Justin's actions. "Look Deb, I'm really tired. It's been a fucking long day. Thanks for the lemon bars."

Debbie walked over to Brian's chair. "You take care. And when you get out I'll make sure to send over lots of food. If I know you two, you'll be fucking like bunnies and won't get out of bed. You need your strength to get better."

Brian rolled his eyes, but said, "Yes, Ma."

She leaned down and gave him a kiss on the cheek and immediately wiped the bright red lipstick off his cheek. She opened her mouth to say more, but didn't, and then walked out of the room.

I will be so glad to get out of this shitty hospital. People will have to buzz to get to the loft, no more of this just knocking and entering shit. It's like a fucking revolving door. Now I understand why they say that sick people shouldn't be in the hospital- because you don't get any rest! I swear, there is someone in my room every fucking hour.
Brian put the bag with the lemon bars on the small night stand, and walked to the bathroom. After using the facilities, he washed his hands and looked in the mirror. Better today. A little more color. At least being out of the sun will keep me from adding any more lines by my eyes. Not that it really makes a difference any more. Can't pick up too many tricks with Frankenstein's legs, except maybe in the dark of the back room. This really sucks. It will put a huge crimp in my tricking and with Justin back in New York , I won't be getting my cock sucked on a regular basis anymore.

When Brian returned to his chair, he flipped the television back on and found a news channel. He listened half heartedly to the newscasters, but was interrupted once again by a knock on the door.

"What the fuck do you want? It's a hospital. There are sick people in here! How am I supposed to get better if there is no fucking peace and quiet?" Brian yelled in the direction of the door, as Ted walked in.

"I'm here to pick up the ad sheets," Ted timidly explained.

"I fucking know why you're here! I told you to come down. Took you long enough." Brian glanced at the clock behind his bed and saw that it was a little after six.

"There was an accident of the beltway," Ted explained. He picked up the paperwork for the ad campaign, glancing at the work. "These are good, but God, I hate that shit. Who buys Pool Boy?"

"Of course they're good. I designed them," Brian snapped.

"Can I get you anything? Soda? Juice? Something from the diner? I hear that the food here is not the best."

Brian took his thumb and put it to his front teeth and he contemplated his answer. "Let's see. A hard bodied brunette with pecs of steel and a nine inch cock would suffice."

Ted rolled his eyes. "No can do. I have faith in you- you always manage to find a guy to fuck in the most unusual places. Visions of you fucking that nurse when I woke up from MY coma will, unfortunately, be permanently embedded in my brain."

"You should be thankful, Theodore; maybe you should have picked up a few pointers." Brian grinned. "Actually, I'd love some guava juice. Don't know if they have any in the cafeteria, but according to my stalker, there's a little corner grocery store about two blocks from here."

"Sure thing, Bri. I'll be back shortly." He put the ad down on the table and left on his errand.

The dietary aide brought his dinner a few minutes later. Today it was Salisbury Steak smothered in gravy, and after looking at the brown piece of meat, Brian re-covered the plate. There was also a cup of chicken noodle soup with crackers, and he ate that. A fruit cup was also on the tray, and he found that it was passably edible. As he was completing his meal, there was another knock on the door.

"I don't know why anyone fucking knocks; you all just come in anyway! Come the hell in," he yelled.

Karen came in the door holding a packet of information. "Did you fill out the paperwork for the transfer, Mr. Kinney. I would like to have you moved as soon as possible so you can start your treatment."

"I told you I'm not going to treatment. Now get out!" Brian yelled.

"Mr. Kinney, Dr. Moya feels that you need to participate..." Karen attempted to explain.

"Look, you bitch. I told you this afternoon. I'm not going to treatment; no one can force me, ‘cause alcohol and drug treatment is voluntary unless I've committed a crime. Last time I checked, I didn't commit a crime. Now fucking leave or I'll call the cops!"

Ted walked in during Brian's tirade and cringed. "Here's your juice, Bri. Lucky you, they have guava juice in the cafeteria."

"Theodore. Get this woman out of my room, now! Go to the nurses' station and tell them she is not to return, or I will call my lawyer." Brian gestured to the door.

"But Mr. Kinney..."

" Miss...you need to listen to Mr. Kinney. He knows his rights. Please leave..."

She turned and walked out. Ted followed her and directed the nurses to forbid her entrance into Brian's room. He returned to Brian's room

"What did she want, Brian?"

Brian pinched the bridge of his nose with his forefinger and thumb again. Damn that bitch. Now my headache is really back, and I doubt they'll give me any more drugs. One more reason to get out of this hellhole. " She seems to think I have an alcohol and drug problem, and that I need to be on some fucking Chemical Dependency Treatment ward with a bunch of losers." The venom in his voice palpable.

Ted cringed when he heard Brian's tirade.

"I'm not some crystal queen, or a falling-down-drunk like my old man. I like to drink and take a few recreational drugs. What the hell's wrong with that?"

"Fire me now, Brian."

Brian looked at Ted with a quizzical expression.

"I learned a lot in treatment. You don't have to reach the end of your rope like I did to be an addict. Think about what she said." He picked up the ad for the Pool Boy account. "I'll deliver this to Kinnetik tomorrow and then I'll pack my things in the office. Thank you for giving me a chance." Ted started to walk toward the door.

"What the fuck, Ted? I'm not going to fire your sorry ass for speaking your mind. Fuck up my accounts, embezzle from me, sell my ad ideas, and THEN I will have your ass in a sling; it won't be a pleasant experience. Everyone else seems to feel that they can tell me what to do, so why the fuck should you be any different?"

"Oh. OK, Brian. Thank you," Ted stammered.

"Now sit your ass down in this chair so you can catch me up on things going on at Kinnetik."

Ted sat down and talked to Brian for several hours. Brian was starting to yawn, and after the third time in less then ten minutes, Ted gathered the Pool Boy account for the third time and stood up. "Bri, take care. I'll deliver this tomorrow morning and I'll be sure to yell at Thomas to get it finished quickly." He smiled at his cleverness, then headed for the door.

Brian didn't respond, but walked to the bathroom one last time and completed his evening rituals. Back in bed his bed, he reached for the phone. It was 10:00 PM , and hopefully Justin would be somewhere he could talk.

He rang Justin, who answered immediately.

"Hey. Miss me?" Justin asked as he felt a tingle run through his body, just from talking to Brian on the phone.

‘Hey." Brian repeated. "So how is fabulous ‘Nude York'?"

Justin laughed. "I should get Gus something special from New York for renaming it for us."

"Pick him up an ‘I Love New York ' t-shirt. The joke will be ours to share."

"Okay, I should have time to do that tomorrow. There are vendors on every street corner here, and they sell everything. So how was your day?" Justin asked. "You sound tired. Did Jose wear you out?"

"More like the fucking revolving door that is my hospital room wore me out," Brian groused.

"I'm sorry I wasn't there to help," Justin said softly.

"Sorry's bullshit. Didn't you learn anything, Justin? I thought I taught you to be the best homosexual there is," Brian reminded him of the first rule from the Kinney handbook.

Justin smiled at Brian's familiar rant. "Did something happen after I left?"

"Jose tortured me; made me walk stairs. But I showed him, and performed beautifully. Then another fucking therapist came to talk to me- seems that the hospital must determine if I'm a threat to myself or others before letting me go. Of course, I can't forget Debbie's little visit, followed by the Treatment Bitch from Hell trying to coerce me into fucking treatment again, and then finishing up with Theodore Schmidt pitifully trying to explain that you can be an addict without losing every last shred of your dignity."

"Sounds like you had a busy day. That's more excitement than I had!"

"Tell me about your day. Was Mother Taylor nice to you on the plane?"

"Mom was good. Didn't say too much about your situation. She tried to explain to me some nonsense about Molly turning sixteen, and how she was going to have to start developing friendships with everyone so she could get ahead in this world. Debutants and other girl stuff. She wants to buy Molly some big present now that she's going to be sixteen in a few weeks. Hell, when I was sixteen, all I wanted was a driver's license and keys to the car."

"Ah, the innocence of youth," Brian waxed poetic. "Don't tell me you weren't thinking about cock at sixteen, too?"

"Duh. That goes without saying."

"Speaking of cock... Mine is feeling very neglected. Think you could do something about that, Justin?" Brian teased.

"Why Mr. Kinney, are you soliciting sex over the telephone? I think that might be punishable by orgasm." Justin laughed at his witty remark.

"Punish me, Mr. Taylor," Brian played along.

"I think that can be arranged. Are you in bed?"

"Yes."

"Good. Got tissues near by? Don't want you to have to go hunting when I'm done with you. You'll hopefully be ready for sleep."

"Yes, Sunshine. I've got tissues right here," Brian said a little exasperated. "Now, let's not spoil the mood again."
TBC

Chapter End Notes:

Another update for my readers.  Comments- even I'm enjoying the story are always welcome  And for those of you who comment, thank you very much.  ( shameless plug)

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