Justin finished his shower and dressed quickly. Finding the bag with Gus' shirt in it, he pulled the shirt out and found a gift bag to put it in. He located some colored tissue paper and stuffed it into the bag, and then placed the shirt in the bag as well, topping it with more tissue.

With the bag in his hand, he walked into the living room. "Ready for your first road trip?"

"Ha, ha," Brian snarked. "Oh joy! I get to ride in a minibus like some damn tourist." Justin kissed him quiet, stopping any more comments from Brian. "It's only for a week or until you can put weight on your leg," Justin reminded him.

"I know. I'm never breaking anything ever again," Brian announced.

"Good thing we discussed renting a vehicle for a few weeks. I can't see you getting into the ‘Vette', especially if I have to take your ramp and pack your wheelchair," Justin commented as he placed the keys in his pocket. "We'll take the little ramp. It should fit over the girl's front steps, just in case they're too steep to use your crutches," Justin announced as he grabbed the portable ramp.

Brian grabbed his crutches and laid them over his wheelchair as he rolled out to the elevator. "Shit! I didn't even think of that. I will be so glad when I get rid of this monstrosity," Brian announced

Justin smiled and pushed the elevator button. He left Brian at the back entrance while he retrieved the minivan. It was big, but it would be a lot easier to get Brian and all his paraphernalia to any destination. He drove the van up to the back entrance, getting out and grabbing Brian's crutches. Brian wheeled himself over to the car and got in to the back seat like he did when he came home from the hospital. Justin picked up the wheelchair, folded it and placed it in the back.

They drove in silence to Mel and Lindsay's house, where Justin helped Brian out of the car and into the wheelchair again. Brian wheeled himself up the walkway and used the ramp to get to their porch.

"I hate this wheelchair. Why don't you give me my crutches and we'll bring the chair in, in case I need it," Brian stated as he reached for the crutches.

"It would be easier to stay in your chair," Justin urged him.

"No. I'm not some invalid. I can use my crutches. Now, give them to me."

Justin handed Brian the crutches and watched as he maneuvered out of the chair and onto the crutches. "You're getting pretty adept at that," Justin commented. He moved the chair to the side.

Brian turned up the corners of his mouth but didn't comment. He knocked on the door.

Gus opened the door and started to rush toward Brian, but Justin held him back.
"Slow down, buddy. Your dad is on crutches, so he can't pick you up right now. Why don't you let him come in and then you can sit with him on the couch," Justin suggested.

"Okay, Jus. Dada, what happened to your leg?" Gus asked as he looked at the cast. He reached out to touch the plaster and commented. "It's hard. You look funny walking with those sticks."

"I broke my leg."

"Like when mama broke the vase. She said it is glued back together because it fell. Did you fall?" Gus asked as he touched the cast.

Brian grinned at Gus' analogy. "I fell really hard and the bone broke. The leg is in a cast to help it heal, and I know I look funny on these ‘sticks'" Brian explained.

"Did they glue the bones Dada?"

"No, the bones are inside. The cast helps keep them together so they don't move."

"Oh. Okay. Can you come upstairs and play trucks with me? Jenny Rebecca always gets in the way so Mama told me to play with them in my room." Gus started to walk towards the stairs.

"Sorry, Sonny boy. Stairs are pretty hard for me right now, but when I get rid of the cast, I promise to play trucks with you."

Justin pushed the wheelchair in as he watched Gus look at Brian, willing him to follow him upstairs but understanding that he couldn't right now. Justin automatically looked around for a chair to put by him so he could elevate the leg. He eyed a dining room chair and pulled it over, but it was too high. He pulled the afghan down from the back of the couch and laid it on the seat, and Brian placed his leg on the couch instead.

Lindsay watched the whole scene, smiling at Justin's solicitousness. "Brian, I'm glad you could come. Gus has been asking when he would see his Dada again. How are you feeling? You seem to be maneuvering pretty well," she observed. She walked over to kiss him and gave him a brief hug. "Can you sit at the table or do you want to eat on the couch?"

"I can eat at the table." Turning toward Gus, he gestured to have him join him. "So Sonny boy, what have you been doing?"

Gus couldn't sit next to Brian like he was used to doing, so he sat on the floor next to him. "Mama said you were leaving the hospital, so I made you a new picture." He left the living room and quickly returned with a big picture. Holding it up he smiled as he displayed his work. "See? This is you at your house." He pointed to a stick figure in front of a large building. "I'll have to draw a new one with your white leg. How long do you have to wear it?"

"I'll have Justin put it with the other pictures you've made. I'm getting a large collection."

"If I get enough pictures, can I have a show like Justin?" Gus beamed as he heard Brian had a special place for his pictures."

"Maybe. You've got lots of time to decide if you want to be an artist," Brian smiled as he thought of Justin showing Gus the ropes to the art business." In answer to your question, I have to wear the cast for about two months," Brian informed him.

"That's a long time. But, I guess it wouldn't be so bad, ‘cause you don't have to take a bath every night," Gus proclaimed.

Everyone laughed. "I take a bath, Gus. I just have to wrap my leg so it doesn't get wet. I would be pretty smelly if I didn't take a bath for two months!"

"I guess so," Gus answered. "Hi, Justin. Mama made spaghetti, just like you asked. Can you paint with me? I want to make a new picture for Dada."

"Spaghetti sounds great. I can't help you paint tonight, but I'll try to come over this weekend and we can paint together."

"Okay," Gus sighed after being told no for the second time in just a few minutes.

Justin recognized the disappointment and turned toward Gus. "Oh, and I brought you something from New York," Justin announced.

Gus jumped off the couch and jumped up and down in excitement. "What is it? Can I have it?"

"Gus," Lindsay and Mel both said in a warning tone.

"It's in the bag over by the door. Why don't you bring it in here?" Brian advised him.

Gus ran to the gift bag and brought it back to the room. He grabbed the paper out of the top and found the T-shirt, holding it up so he could see it.

"I heart New York," Gus read the T-shirt. "What does that mean?" he questioned.

"The heart stands for love. It means I love New York. I thought you'd like it," Justin explained as he went to give Gus a hug.

"It's cool. Thanks, Justin." Turning toward his mothers, he asked, "Can I put it on?"

"Why don't you wear it to school tomorrow," Lindsay suggested.

"Okay. Everyone will think it's too cool! Thanks, Justin." He hugged Justin and while he was there, he gave his dad a hug, too.

A bell was heard in the kitchen and Melanie got up to look at the food. "Dinner's ready. Gus, go wash up and tell your sister to come to the table."

Brian maneuvered himself to the dining room table and placed his crutches on the edge so he could reach them.

Melanie placed the food on the table and the platters were passed around for everyone to take what they wanted. Justin piled his plate high with spaghetti and garlic bread, and Brian put a small portion of the pasta on his plate.

"I have some chicken, Brian. I know you don't like to eat carbs this late," Lindsay offered when she saw his plate.

"It's okay. The hospital isn't exactly a ‘no carbs' zone. I'm used to eating them for now," Brian explained.

J.R. and Gus filled their plates, as did Melanie and Lindsay. Everyone ate in silence for a while.

"Justin, how was your show? Lindsay hasn't stopped talking about it since she got back," Mel asked.

Justin finished his bite of garlic bread before answering. "The show was great. I sold almost everything before I left."

Melanie nodded. "That's great! I bet you're anxious to get back."

Justin looked at Brian but Brian only raised his shoulders slightly. "I'm not going back, Mel. I'm staying here and painting. I'll go back to New York about once a month," Justin explained.

"Oh... but, why? It seems to me that you would want to continue showing your art so you can make a name for yourself." Melanie questioned. She twirled some spaghetti on her fork and ate a bite.

"I can paint anywhere. Almost all of the pieces in the show were ones that I started here last summer. I sketched the ideas and then painted them in New York. There's no reason I can't paint here and show my work in The City," Justin defended his decision.

"I'm not an expert in the field, but I would think that it would be a pain to ship all your work for shows," Mel observed.

"Not really. I paint in my studio, and I still have to crate my work to ship it to the gallery for a show. This way it will just have a longer commute to the gallery."

"Where..."

Justin's phone rang and he looked at the caller ID. "I have to take this. I'm sorry," he excused himself and went to the other room for some privacy.

"Hi Sam," Justin answered.

"...Yeah I saw the reviews. Pretty impressive for a show that I had to share with a known artist."

".... No, I'm not getting cocky! Just teasing you. So, what's going on? I didn't expect to hear from you so soon."

"...You're shitting me. A commission? When do they want me to paint it?"

"...I'm sorry, Sam. I can't right now. If they could wait a few weeks, I could go."

"... Sam, remember our conversation. Your wife or your career?"

"...If they're willing to wait, I could probably do it after the middle of next month."

"...I know, Sam. But this is important, too. Talk to you next week. By the way, I started some sketches today. I think you're going to love them."

Justin walked back to the table and everyone looked at him. "What?" he asked.

"Who was that? You seemed a little unnerved," Brian asked.

"It was Sam. Someone offered me a commission, but I told him I couldn't do it right now."

"You fucking turned him down. Call him back and accept it," Brian demanded.

"Language," Lindsay reminded him.

"Justin, you will call him back and tell him you can take the job," Brian repeated.

"No, I will not. I told you that I wanted to be here for you right now, and that is where I'm going to be. Now, can we finish dinner? There is nothing more to discuss." Justin picked up his fork and resumed eating his dinner.

"Justin, this is a great opportunity. You shouldn't turn it down. I can help Brian," Lindsay offered.

Justin rolled his eyes and put down his fork. "I'm his partner. I don't need everyone telling me what I should and shouldn't do. I'm a grown man, and can make up my own mind."

No one spoke for the rest of the meal. It was getting late; Brian read Gus a short story and said good night to him shortly after dinner. Brian gave Justin surreptitious glances throughout the story.

When Brian finished Gus's story, Justin said, "We're going home. Thank you for dinner, ladies. Brian, I'll get your wheelchair."

Brian used a combination of his wheelchair and crutches to get into the car. Justin was quiet the entire time. He started the car, and drove back to the loft. He helped Brian out of the car and upstairs. Brian walked to the couch and sat down, his frustration showing.

"What the fuck do you think you're doing? You don't need to take care of me. I'm fine," Brian yelled.

Justin put the alarm on and went to the kitchen to grab a beer for himself and Brian, then sat in the living room chair. He casually opened the beer and took a long draw before replying. "This isn't open to discussion. I don't tell you how to run Kinnetik, and you shouldn't tell me how to run my business."

"You're just starting out. You should take every opportunity to sell your work." Brian took the beer, opened it and drank half of it.

"I'm not like you. I don't have a time line, and I'm not trying to impress anyone. I'm not taking this commission. I may take others, or not, but it's ultimately my choice." Justin finished his beer and stood up. ‘I'm going to bed. I want to get to the studio early tomorrow. Are you coming?"

Brian slid into the wheelchair, following Justin into the bedroom. Justin helped him in the bathroom and they got into bed. Justin turned away from Brian and closed his eyes, falling asleep quickly.

Brian closed his eyes and fell into a restless sleep. After several hours, Brian woke up and couldn't go back to sleep. He got in his wheelchair and rolled into the living room, pushing himself up to the liquor cart. He poured himself a drink and quickly downed it. Enjoying the rush of the liquor, he drank another shot. "Damn blond brat," he quietly said under his breath. He grabbed the bottle and drank directly from it. He was soon very drunk.


Justin woke up and found the bed empty. He looked toward the bathroom and saw it was dark. Knowing Brian wouldn't go in there without a light, he glanced around the loft to find him. His eyes adjusted quickly to the darkness, and he was able to make out Brian's silhouette in the living room. He wrapped the sheet around his torso and walked over to him.

"Hey, you okay?" Justin asked sincerely.

"I'm fine," Brian slurred.

Justin's heart sank.

"I don't believe you!" Justin yelled. "The first time you disagree with me, you go and get drunk. Tell me, Brian, does it help? Does getting drunk make the problem go away? Does it make you feel in control? Well, fuck you! I didn't come back to watch you try to kill yourself." Justin didn't wait for Brian to answer. He walked into the bedroom and dressed quickly. "I'll be back in the morning to help you get dressed, but right now I can't stay here."

He left, slamming the loft door. He'd grabbed the keys to the Corvette and drove to Daphne's. Luckily, she had given him a key when he came back from New York, and he used it to let himself in. He slipped into the apartment, leaving a note on the kitchen table, letting Daphne know that he was there. He undressed quickly and went to bed in the spare room, crying himself to sleep.