Chapter 1 - Much Ado About.

Justin Taylor took out his almost empty wallet and pulled out three Euros to pay for the coffee he’d been nursing for the past hour and a half. He probably shouldn’t have wasted even those measly three on a coffee; he should have bought a sandwich or something more filling. He was down to his last fifty Euros and if he didn’t find a way to get more cash soon he was going to be shit outta luck. 

But sitting there amid the beautiful old buildings of the ancient city of Split, nursing his now cold drink, it was hard to get too worked up about anything. There was something about the laid back atmosphere of the Croatian resort town that made it difficult to be too serious about anything. The people here were philosophical about life. Over the centuries this town had seen it all. The Dalmatian coast had gone from a Greek settlement, to a Roman resort town, to a City-State rival of the prosperous Venice, to a vassal state of the mighty Byzantine and Ottoman Empires. It had been bombed repeatedly, in several wars, and been traded back and forth between stronger nations enough times that the populace tended to forget who they were supposed to belong to at any given time. So many wars had been fought over this territory that the people had become inured to anything short of an all out invasion. Most of the citizens still didn’t trust this whole independent nation thing; Croatia had only been declared ‘independent’ in 1991, and that seemed like a mere moment in time to a city that had been around for almost three thousand years. So, yeah, it was understandable that Justin had taken on the same languorous attitude as the populace around him since his arrival in the city.   

It didn’t help that it was already almost 30C that afternoon. Even in the shade of the tall building where the cafe was located, and further protected by the umbrella over his table, it was ridiculously hot and humid. But then again, what did he expect for the end of July on the Mediterranean? He should probably head north, at least until summer was over, to avoid the worst of the summer heat in the south. Assuming, that is, he managed to find the money to go anywhere. 

That thought, unfortunately, brought him back to the contemplation of his sorry financial state. 

Justin still wasn’t sure how he’d ended up stranded in a coastal resort town in southern Croatia. The past year and a half had passed in a bit of daze. Ever since he’d gotten kicked out of Dartmouth he’d just been drifting around, going wherever his fancy took him, and not really giving a damn that he didn’t have a real plan. He didn’t have anything to go back to in the States. Justin‘s parents, especially his father, Craig, had pretty much given up on him. In fact, they were probably happy he was out of the picture, bumming around Europe, so long as he was out of their hair. 

Craig still hadn’t forgiven his son for the scandal he’d caused at the old man’s alma mater. It was bad enough that Justin had struggled from day one, getting terrible grades, partying way too much, and almost failing out his very first semester. Craig had given the recalcitrant student a serious talking to when he’d come home for winter break and told Justin he didn’t give a flying fart if the boy hated everything about the school, starting with the fact that he hadn’t wanted to go to business school in the first place. As a Taylor, it was Justin’s duty to go to Dartmouth, just like his father, his grandfather, and his great-grandfather. He needed to buck up, straighten himself out, and do the family proud. 

Unfortunately, Justin hadn’t listened. His second semester had been going even worse than his first when he got caught in a dubious situation that ended his Darmouth career for good. Apparently, the Dean did not approve of his son being caught on camera at a frat party getting sucked off by one of the house’s newest pledges. Maybe if the video hadn’t gone viral on TikTok, they might have been able to sweep the distasteful affair under the carpet. But, after about the millionth-plus view, Justin had been summoned to the Dean’s office, told to pack his bags, and been warned never to be seen on campus again. 

Craig had been even less pleased about the circumstances of Justin’s expulsion than his buddy the Dean. Justin’s mother had warned him that it would be best if he let his father cool off before returning home. So, trying to make the best of a bad situation, the unrepentant former student had decamped for Europe and spent his time wandering around from city to city, enjoying the fuck out his free time, while he waited to be summoned home again. 

Bumming his way around Europe had been a blast for the first six months or so. Justin had traveled around the continent, visiting all the great cities he’d read about, and done all the requisite touristy things, until his savings had finally run out. When he’d called home from a coffee house in Amsterdam, informing his father about the dire money situation, Justin was told flat-out that Craig didn’t give a damn about his son’s high-end problems. Craig declared point-blank that he wasn’t going to continue to finance Justin’s ‘degenerate lifestyle’ and promptly hung up on him. Since then, Justin had managed by ingratiating himself to a series of rich, trust fund kids, who were also sowing their wild oats and partying their way across the continent, and who had more than enough money to spare. It was a life.

Which was how Justin had ended up, sitting in a cafe in a small Croatian beach town, after having just been dumped by the latest in the string of hookups he’d been using to finance his rambles across the continent, down to his last fifty Euros with no appreciable prospects for the future. 

While he sat there, contemplating his nebulous future and wondering how much longer he could occupy a table without ordering anything before the waiter would kick him out, Justin’s attention was drawn to the next table over. The two women sitting there were arguing rather loudly, so it was hard not to overhear their conversation, to be honest. He definitely wasn’t anywhere near fluent in Croatian, but he did understand a little bit; he heard the words lijepa (pretty), and pedercina (gay). 

Well, he thought, I’m both pretty and gay so maybe I should see what they’re talking about. It wasn’t like he had anything better to do, right? And you never knew where - or from whom - you might pick up a tip that would help you find your next meal ticket. 

Justin noticed that the older one seemed upset about something and kind of sad. The younger one appeared to be trying to explain what she was doing, the way a young adult would try to convince a parent to agree to something that they really wanted to do, even when the parent disapproved. The women’s body language and vocal inflections were apparently universal. After several minutes of this disagreement, he heard the younger one call the older one “Mama” - well, at least he’d got that part right - and then the daughter said, “ne zanima me!” (I don’t care). This was followed by a string of increasingly animated exchanges between the two, but the only words Justin got out of it were “America” and “Green Card”. 

This conversation just got a LOT more interesting, Justin concluded, prompting him to lean a little closer so he could hear better. 

Justin had been thinking for a while now that he should maybe contemplate heading home. The whole backpacking through Europe thing was starting to get a little old, to be honest. Plus, not only was he homesick for the good old U.S. of A., he also really missed his best friend, Daphne. But, since his family was still refusing to shell out any money unless he agreed to toe the line and follow his father’s edicts, he hadn’t yet come up with a way to finance that trip home. 

And, even after finding himself stranded in the middle-of-nowhere Croatia, he wasn’t ready to give in; he knew that if he wanted to get back on his father’s good side he’d have to promise to ‘give up the whole gay thing’, clean up his act, and go back to Dartmouth. Assuming, that is, that his father’s money could grease the wheels sufficiently to get him readmitted. Going to any other college was unacceptable - his father’s words - Dartmouth was ‘where the men in this family go’. It didn’t matter that Justin had absolutely no interest in business. He was expected to join the family business whether he wanted to or not. It didn’t matter that what he really wanted to do was go to art school; he was an artist, and a damn good one at that, but his father refused to believe drawing pretty pictures constituted an acceptable career path. Even more galling, it didn’t matter one iota to his homophobic family that Justin was gay, had always been gay, and would always be gay, whether they liked it or not. In his sexuality, like everything else in his life, Justin wasn’t given any choices. Craig Taylor held the family purse strings. Justin either had to do as his father said, and live his life the way his father dictated, or he would be permanently cut off from the family and their money. 

So, since Justin wasn’t willing to kowtow to his father’s unreasonable mandates, it appeared that he’d have to find some other way to finance his trip home.

He returned his focus to the two women when he noticed the younger one waving something in the air that looked like an airline ticket envelope. He heard her say, “dva sata” (two hours). Then the older woman nodded and, looking resigned, Mama pulled her daughter into a long hug. The goodbye scene got a little drawn out after that. First Mama got teary-eyed and then the daughter did too. They stood up and hugged again, the daughter absentmindedly shoving the ticket into a larger manilla envelope which she left on the table next to her purse so she’d have her hands free for more hugging. Even without understanding the language, it was a very touching scene.

Which was when Justin did something he’d never done before. Something reprehensible. Something he didn’t let himself think about for even a second because, if he had, he would have talked himself out of doing such a despicable thing.  

Biting his lip, Justin got up quickly, turned abruptly as if he’d just then meant to leave, and intentionally dumped the remains of his coffee all over the two women. While they were yelling curses at his clumsiness, Justin apologized profusely and reached across the women’s table, presumably to grab a napkin to help with the clean up, surreptitiously grabbing the envelope with the ticket inside. Then, before the women realized what had happened, he turned on his heel and high-tailed it out of there as fast as he could without drawing too much attention to himself. He made it across the piazza and caught the first cab he saw. The taxi was already pulling out into traffic when he heard the first raised voices yelling after him. “Stop! Lopov!” Luckily the thief was already a half a block away by then and on his way to the airport with his ticket home in his pocket!

Ted headed into Brian’s office, hoping that he would still have a job after he explained to his boss what he’d just found out. 

He had just gotten off the phone with the assistant for their newest international client, Aleksi Kacmar, the owner of Princess Mia Resorts, a huge hotel chain with locations all along the Adriatic from Croatia to Greece. Kinnetik had signed a contract with Kacmar that could easily net the firm ten million dollars over the next three to five years. It was the largest international client Kinnetik had ever won and would go a long way towards getting Kinnetik’s advertising seen in Europe and beyond. Because of that, Brian was eager to do whatever it took to make Aleksi happy. 

To that end, Brian had feted Aleksi extensively when the Croatian entrepreneur had come to Pittsburgh the week before to finalize the deal with Kinnetik. Brian had shown Aleksi and his latest wife - a brainless, blond bimbo, with tits the size of floatation devices, who was at least twenty years younger than her filthy rich husband - all over town. The charming AdMan had taken the couple out to dinner at all the best restaurants provincial little Pittsburgh had to offer, got them tickets to an Ironmen game, and even, on Ted’s recommendation, accompanied them to see Carmen at the Pittsburgh Opera House, despite the fact that Brian detested opera. 

On the Kacmars' last day in town, while Aleksi’s wife, Petra, was enjoying a last minute visit to the hotel’s spa, the two men had gone to lunch at a nearby chop shop. Brian had used an interpreter to help out with communications during all their official business meetings, but since this was just an informal lunch, and all the contracts were signed and sealed already, Brian hadn’t thought he needed to invite the interpreter along. That might have been a mistake, though, because Aleksi’s English was not very good and Brian didn’t speak more than a dozen words of Croatian. The conversation was a little stilted but at least the good beer they were drinking along with their steaks made the experience bearable.

When the meal was winding down, Aleksi mentioned something about Petra. Brian couldn’t really understand everything the man said, but he nodded along and pretended to agree. Based on the lewd gestures Aleksi was making as he spoke, Brian assumed the man was just bragging; ‘so-and-so is great in bed’ sounds the same in almost any language. When Aleksi had segued into asking Brian something about his own sex life, Brian had merely smiled and tried to look coy. He hadn’t really wanted to bring up the topic of his sexuality yet, not that he was trying to hide it or anything, but he didn’t know Aleksi well enough to get into that topic. Besides, it wasn’t really any of Aleksi’s business. 

So, when Kacmar had questioned Brian about ‘why a zgodan muskarac like you no have a dobra zena’, he hadn’t really known how to answer or even what the man had really asked him. With a little more back and forth, Brian finally understood that Aleksi was asking why he wasn’t married. Brian, jokingly, had replied that he guessed he just hadn’t found the right person to settle down with. That had caused Aleksi to spout off, rambling on for quite a while about something Brian couldn’t understand at all, but he agreeably nodded along anyway because he didn’t want to seem rude. It didn’t really matter, though, because Kacmar would be on an airplane back to Split in just a few hours and Brian could finally turn off the fake charm.

Ted remembered Brian coming back from that lunch meeting all smiles. He’d given Ted a general recap of what had been discussed at lunch and they’d laughed about how the het clients always seemed to feel the need to brag about their sexual prowess. Like Brian would care, even if he hadn’t been gay. But part of the job was humoring the clients and playing along like it mattered what they said.

Ted specifically remembered asking his boss if he thought Aleksi had known Brian was gay. Brian had just shrugged. Part of the discussion during the meetings over the direction Kacmar wanted to go with his advertising had been about the acceptance of gay couples and their families at the hotel chain, so they’d at least thought that the man would be accepting if he found out about Brian’s promiscuous gay lifestyle. But other than that it hadn’t really come up. Now, though, Ted was wishing they’d taken the time to have that conversation before Kacmar had left the States.

Because, from what Ted understood based on the phone call he’d just taken, their newest businessman client had definitely NOT got the message that the owner of his new advertising firm was gay.

Ted knocked on Brian’s door and was granted entrance. “Brian, I just got off the phone with Aleksi’s assistant . . .” he started.

“Is there a problem with the contract?” Brian asked, looking up with concern from the Princess Mia boards he’d been examining.

“No, not with the contract . . . Um . . . What, exactly, did you two talk about at lunch that last day Aleksi was here?” Ted questioned.

“I already told you, just general stuff about our lives. He was going on and on about his bimbo wife. Just BS, mostly. Why?”

“Well, apparently, Aleksi got a lot more out of that conversation than you did, Brian,” Ted offered, biting his lip nervously. “Kacmar’s assistant just called and told me her boss is sending you something and we need to get to the airport to pick it up.”

“What the fuck would he be sending that we need to pick up at the airport?” Brian shook his head, unhappy that his work day was being interrupted.

“Well, from what I gathered - and that’s assuming there weren’t some serious translation issues - I think she said he’s sending you a ‘bride’.”

“A WHAT?” Brian dropped the boards, letting them fall to the floor in a jumbled heap.

“Aleksi is sending you a ‘bride’,” Ted repeated, almost as shocked as Brian. “From what I understand, that day at lunch when you were talking about his wife, Aleksi apparently asked you why a handsome guy like you wasn’t already married and he claims you said that you just hadn’t ‘met the right woman’ yet. Or, at least, that’s what he thought you said. So, he’s generously taken it upon himself to help you out. According to the assistant, Kacmar is sending you one of his ‘girls’ so you won’t be working too much to have fun. Her words, not mine.”

“Oh, holy fuck, Theodore. You’ve got to be kidding! What the fuck am I going to do with a bride?”

“Don’t ask me, Boss. I’m gay,” Ted replied, supressing a laugh.

“Well, what the fuck am I?”

“According to our newest client, apparently, you are someone in need of a bride.”

“I need a fucking bride like I need another dick . . .” Brian mumbled, running his fingers through his hair agitatedly. 

“Well, then, you may need to get bigger pants,” Ted answered with a smirk. “Because, it seems, she’s already on her way. The assistant emailed me the flight information and your intended should be arriving at Pittsburgh International in . . .” he looked at the time on his phone and nodded, “just over an hour.”

Shaking his head, cursing under his breath, and shutting down his computer, Brian commented, “Shit. I guess we better get going. We can’t afford to insult Kacmar by letting whoever he sent wait at the fucking airport. This isn’t an account we want to lose. Although, I have no idea what the fuck I’m supposed to do with the woman once we meet her at the airport. But, whatever. We’ll have to figure it out on the way.”

Since Brian hated the hassle of driving to the airport and looking for parking, he made the executive decision to use his car service. Taking the car service had the added advantage of allowing him and Ted to sit in the back and brainstorm about the situation. They needed to figure out how they were going to handle this nightmare. Plus, after they’d picked up their ‘package’, the car would be waiting right outside of the Departure doors so they could make a quick getaway.

Once the car arrived and they were on their way, Brian turned to Ted. “So, when we find this bimbo Aleksi is sending me, Theodore, what the hell are we supposed to do with her?”

“Don’t ask me, Boss. That’s a little out of my job description. I don’t know shit about women,” Ted replied, looking as lost as Brian felt. “Do you know what to do with one?”

“In bed? Actually, yes,” Brian admitted with a shudder. “Don’t ask. It was a combination of too much booze and some really bad drugs.” Brian chuckled at Ted’s very shocked face.

“Okaaaay. Well, first things first, we’ll have to put her up somewhere until we can straighten things out with Aleksi. Any suggestions on where she’ll be staying?” Ted asked.

“Shit. I don’t know. Can’t we just check her into a hotel or something?” Brian suggested. “Oh fuck. Did Aleski say if she even speaks English?”

“He didn’t say. That could definitely be a problem, though. Do you know anyone that speaks Croatian? Or should I call the interpreter we used before?”

“I would prefer to keep this as quiet as possible,” Brian answered, pinching the bridge of his nose and shaking his head. “If we do get the interpreter involved we’ll need to have the lawyers beef up the Non-Disclosure Agreement he signed because I don’t want something like this being spread around Liberty Avenue. Can you imagine the shit storm that would cause? Plus, until we get this resolved, I don’t want anything getting back to Aleksi.”

Once inside the airport they quickly found the right screen among the dozens on the wall. After figuring out where they needed to be, they headed off in the proper direction. Luckily there was a Liberty Air VIP lounge near the concourse the plane would be coming into. They settled in there and Brian ordered a JB to take the edge off while they waited for the announcement that the flight they were meeting had arrived. 

“So, what do you think she’ll look like,” Ted asked, sipping his own club soda. 

“Knowing Aleksi, I’m guessing she’s blond and has a bigger bra size than her IQ,” Brian guessed, looking disgusted at the mere thought of a woman’s breasts.

“No doubt,” Ted agreed with a chuckle. “Remember the way Aleski kept talking about his wife’s ‘bazongas’. I suppose he thought it was a compliment, but . . . Anyway, I’m guessing it’s a given that whomever he sends you will have the same attributes.” 

“That’s ALL I need,” Brian moaned. “And, knowing how much Aleksi likes them young, I’ll be surprised if she’s even out of high school. Hell, she’ll probably be too young to stay in a hotel room alone.” 

“It could be worse,” Ted teased. “I’m pretty sure she’s at least old enough to fly on her own, or else Aleksi’s assistant would have had to send over the paperwork so you could take custody of an unaccompanied minor.” 

“Fuck you, Ted.” Brian looked scandalized. “You don’t think he’d do that, do you?”

“I don’t know, Bri, although I was just reading this article in the Times last week about the problem with child brides in the slavic countries. Apparently, it’s a cultural thing. It’s kinda big over there,” Ted went on, enjoying how panicked Brian looked as he yanked his chain. Brian, it seemed, didn’t know you couldn’t send unaccompanied minors on international flights. Which made it just that much easier to tease him. “But, I think they have to be at least twelve, or have their parent’s permission, so you’re probably okay.”

“I am so fucked,” Brian moaned.

Just then the PA system announced a short delay in the arrival of the flight they were waiting for and Ted reached over to pat his friend sympathetically on the shoulder. “If she’s too young to marry, maybe you could adopt her,” he commented, before moving off quickly to talk to the concierge at the VIP lounge’s customer service desk.