Chapter 18 - Greed Breeds Hatred.
This dive was only slightly less horrible than the previous one, Craig Taylor decided. At least this place didn’t smell like a moldy basement. The drinks were watered down though, and that pissed Craig off. He looked at his watch for the fifth time, wondering how much longer he should wait. Carter had told him to meet him here and that he had a lot of new information, though, so Craig decided it was worth it to wait another 10 minutes or so.
The disreputable looking private detective finally rambled in twenty minutes late. Craig saw he was still wearing the same shabby leather jacket with a hole in the sleeve and wondered why, after all the money he’d paid the guy already, Carter hadn’t bought himself a new one. But, what the hell, so far he’d been worth the money, so Craig guessed it didn’t really matter what the guy wore. It wasn’t like they were going to be seen together socially, after all.
Carter turned the chair on the opposite side of the table around backwards and straddled it. The pudgy, sallow faced man tossed a manilla file folder down on the table, its contents partially spilling out, one sheet landing with its edges soaking up a puddle of beer that Craig had spilled earlier. Carter waved a waitress over and gave her his drink order before pulling out a pack of smokes, extracting one and lighting up.
“Evening Taylor,” Carter started off the meeting trying to be amiable.
“Fuck the pleasantries. Is that everything?” said Craig, pointing to the file.
“Yep. Everything I’ve got so far.”
Craig opened the file and started looking through the documents and photos inside while Carter slowly sipped his whisky and smoked his cigarette. Craig pulled out one 8x10 photo of what appeared to be an old brick building hiding in the shadows of a run down warehouse. If it weren’t for the trendy, modern-looking, signage in front, he might have thought the building was abandoned.
“This is where the guy works?” Craig asked, indicating the photo.
“Yep. Company is called ‘Kinnetik’. The building is an old bath house, if you can believe it,” Carter seemed to find this fact funny, but Craig wasn’t amused. “It also happens to be where your kid is working now, “ Carter added.
“Working? Doing what? The little asshole doesn’t know the first thing about working. I tried to get him to work in one of my stores once and all he did was sit around all day drawing shit on the backs of the invoices.” Craig scoffed at the idea of his son, the fag, being at all productive.
“Well, according to the company’s website, he’s the company’s new Art Director.” Carter also seemed to find this amusing. “Maybe you should have encouraged that drawing shit a little more, hm? The company seems pretty ritzy and that Kinney guy has pretty expensive tastes, so he must be bringing in good dough. Not a bad job, I’d say, for an eighteen year old.”
Craig wanted to wipe that smirk off the fat fuck’s face, but Carter had a certain reputation, so Craig didn’t dare. He decided instead to focus back on the file full of documents, going through several more photos showing Justin and Brian at various locations and times. One photo in particular, showing the two kissing while standing on a sidewalk in front of some restaurant, made Craig’s blood boil and almost caused him to gag. Craig shoved that one to the back of the file. Then he came across a copy of a yearbook photo page and held it up to Carter for an explanation.
“That one - the one I circled - that’s the guy, I think, who put your kid in the hospital in the first place. Name’s Chris Hobbs. Goes to school with your kid. I talked with some of the hotel staff and showed them the yearbook. One guy said he saw your kid and this Hobbs guy fighting in the lobby,” Carter went on, bragging about his detective work. “The guy I talked with said they had to drag this Hobbs kid off Justin and then they tossed him on his ass outside. My guy was pretty certain about the I.D. He said the kid actually hit him a good one in the gut and he wasn’t likely to forget the punk. Plus, the Hobbs kid showed up the next day like this,” Carter pulled out another photo showing Hobbs wearing a cast. “According to the police report, what there was of one, Kinney told the cops he thought he’d broken the attacker’s leg, but the police didn’t know whether to believe him or not since the kid managed to get away before the cops got there.”
“Good work, Carter,” Craig conceded. “We might be able to use this to our advantage.”
After looking over a few more documents, Craig raised his gaze to the P.I. “Anything else important?”
“Just this,” Carter added with another annoying smirk, pulling a smaller photo out of the inside pocket of his jacket and tossing it down on top of the pile on the table.
“What the fuck is this?” asked Craig, picking up the photo of his wife, Jennifer, and that neighbor brat sitting together in some coffee shop.
“You told me to make sure the kid had no contact with your wife and you said to keep an eye on her to make sure she wasn’t meddling, so I’ve been keeping an eye on her.” Carter explained. “She’s gonna cause you problems if you’re not careful, Taylor. I got close enough here to overhear what these two were talking about. They’re planning on doing a little detective work of their own. And we both know the kid isn’t really going to be that tough to find if they really put any effort into it.”
“Goddamn it, Jenn. I told you to stay the fuck out of this,” Craig slammed his beer down on the table.
“It’s definitely not in your best interest to let your wifey run amok like this. You don’t want her actually finding the kid and bringing him back home, do you, Taylor? That would probably put a kink in YOUR love life, not to mention your business, wouldn’t it?” Carter said, looking over at the scantily clad waitress as he said it, but craftily keeping Craig in view out of the corner of his eye.
“What the fuck are you talking about,” Craig spat, trying to sound offended, but coming across instead as defensive.
“I’m talking about that little - or, rather, not so little - trust fund of the kid’s that you’ve been helping yourself to hand over fist for the past few weeks,” Carter explained, turning his attention fully back to Craig.
“I . . . I don’t . . . I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Craig sputtered.
“You think I didn’t look into your background a little too, Craig? I like to know who I’m working for, you know. And it didn’t take much to figure out you’re spending a lot more than your floundering little business is bringing in, especially on that hot little redhead you’ve got in that condo downtown.” Carter was definitely grinning now.
“So, I took one of the tellers from your bank out for dinner and a few drinks one night and boy was I surprised to find out that you were the administrator of your son’s trust fund - the one his very rich grandfather set up for his education. The teller was very accommodating after the fourth or fifth drink, and even told me about how the bank’s auditor was getting concerned about how quickly that account was being depleted.” Carter stubbed out his cigarette in the ashtray in front of him. “You wouldn’t want the kid coming back and asking inconvenient questions about where his college fund had disappeared to, now would you? And that’s exactly what’s likely to happen if your wifey goes snooping around down on Liberty Avenue looking for the boy.”
“What are you proposing?” Craig asked, knowing he was trapped like a rat in a cage.
“Well, for a certain percentage of that little trust fund, I could easily get the kid out of Pittsburgh for you,” Carter explained, with a nasty grin spreading across his lined and paunchy face.
++++++++++++++++++
Brian stood at the foot of the bed, observing Justin as the younger man slept. Brian wasn’t sure that the younger man should be sleeping this much. He didn’t think that Justin had a concussion, he hadn’t seen any obvious head injuries other than the one on his face, but the boy had been sleeping for four hours or so and Brian was getting anxious. Brian finally determined it was time to wake him and make the boy eat something and hopefully get him a little better cleaned up.
Sitting down on the side of the bed, Brian ran his hand up and down the sleeping man’s arm and then gently stroked the soft skin on the boy’s bruised cheek, feeling the warmth of the broken blood vessels underneath. Justin stirred a little, muttering in his sleep and turning his head away from Brian’s touch. Brian bent over and kissed the exposed tendon on the side of the boy’s long slender neck, nibbling a little on the sensitive spot and evoking a contented little, “mmmmm” from the now half awake blond.
“Dinner time, Sunshine,” Brian said with a forced cheerfulness. “Nap time’s over. We need to get all little blond boys up and fed and then it’s your bath time. And, if you’re good, we can even have a little playtime before you go beddy-bye.”
Justin opened his eyes and smiled up at the gorgeous brunet man waiting for him at his bedside and started to roll over to face the man, but stopped with a loud groan when he felt a sharp stab of pain in his ribs. The pain brought back to him all the horrendous events of the morning and wiped the smile off his face pretty quickly. Brian reached down with one arm and helped Justin sit up, rubbing, stroking and touching the injured man the entire time in an effort to give what comfort he could.
Once Justin was seated on the side of the bed, Brian got up and pulled some sweat pants out of the drawer and helped the other man pull them on. Brian was unfortunately familiar with the after effects of the type of beating Justin had received and knew how stiff the boy’s muscles would be and how much that added to the pain of the bruises and torn flesh. He had quickly checked Justin out as soon as they had arrived at the loft, and was fairly certain no bones were broken, but the youth hadn’t let him do more than a cursory examination at the time, so Brian wasn’t sure of the total extent of his injuries. He thought that, at the very least, Justin had several bruised ribs, which Brian knew from experience would be incredibly painful and would hamper the young man’s range of motion.
Brian managed to help Justin down to the kitchen and poured him a bowl of soup from a pot heating on the stove. He also gave him two ibuprofen and a glass of water. Then he served himself a bowl and sat on the stool next to Justin. The two men ate in silence for the duration of the meal, Brian glancing over at Justin every few minutes and occasionally reaching over to stroke an arm or a thigh, just to remind the other man that he was here for him. When the meal was done and all cleaned up, Brian came up to Justin and laid a hand on his shoulder, urging the youth to turn to face him.
“Justin, we need to get you cleaned up and bandage some of those cuts. You wouldn’t let me touch them before. Are you better now?” Brian began, glad to see Justin nod in agreement finally. “Come on, then. We’ll take a shower first.”
Justin let Brian guide him to the bathroom, remove the sweats and then lead him under the warm water which cascaded gently over his sore body. The older man used his long-fingered, sensitive hands to carefully wash the bruised and aching body, paying extra attention to each cut, and then shampoo the golden mop of hair. Justin, who hadn’t cried a single tear since the incident at the school, stood there submissively, letting Brian take care of him and feeling more cherished and pampered than he could ever remember. And finally, as he relaxed into the tender ministrations of his gentle lover, Justin let go and allowed the tears to come. Brian felt the youth’s shoulders begin to shake and quickly wrapped his arms around the young man, holding him up and patiently waiting until Justin’s emotions had run their course.
When he felt the boy quieting, Brian turned the shower off and toweled Justin dry then sat him on the bed and wrapped the duvet around the now exhausted blond man. He quickly dried himself as well and then slid into the bed next to the distressed young man, embracing him tightly and resting his head atop the damp blond head. He didn’t want to acknowledge the overwhelming desire to protect and keep this young man safe which had been guiding his actions all afternoon - it was far too un-Kinney-like an emotion - but Brian didn’t stop himself from holding and tenderly stroking his lover’s hair and face while they lay together in bed, not saying anything and not moving, just being together. Eventually, Justin began to talk, finally able to process what had happened at the school.
“It was Chris Hobbs,” Justin said in a hushed but steady voice. “He was the one who attacked me at the Prom. I saw him in the toilet at school today and I remembered. I remembered hearing someone call my name and when I turned around to look at whoever had called to me there was Chris with a baseball bat. Then I saw it coming towards me and that’s all.”
Justin was quiet for several more moments before he added, in a much less steady voice now, “He said . . . Hobbs threatened to hurt you if I told anyone that it was him. He said he would hurt us both and that he would . . . He said he would kill you.”
-I’ll fucking kill HIM first . . . I knew that we shouldn’t go to that school . . . I knew better and I still let him go there and I let that monster hurt him again . . . I fucking knew better . . . why the fuck didn’t the cops find the fucker and arrest him - wait, that’s a stupid question - the police bother with another gay bashing, yeah right . . . Even if we did go to the cops now, I doubt they’d do anything to that goddamned fucking homophobic prick . . . Judging from that school - did you see all the BMWs and Audis and Benzs in that parking lot - this Hobbs guy has money, or at least his family does, which means he’ll be able to buy his way out of this no matter what we say . . . It wouldn’t do any good to report the guy . . . I just want Justin to be safe . . . I want him to be safe, here, with me . . . I won’t let that fucking monster near him again . . .
Brian squeezed Justin tighter. “It’ll be okay, Sunshine. I’m here and I won’t let that bastard hurt you again. I’ve got you now.”
Brian didn’t fall asleep for a long time after that. He sat there, holding Justin as the younger man slept, as if standing guard over the beautiful, talented, endearing young blond.