Chapter 29 - Discoveries at The Museum.
“Daphne, I don’t want to go to the fucking museum,” Justin complained for the fifth time since she’d dragged him out of his bed that morning.
“I no longer care what you want, Justin. You’ve been holed up in your bedroom for two weeks now. The room was starting to smell. You were definitely starting to smell. And those sweats you’d been wearing - well let's just say that your mom is in the process of burning them as we speak,” Daphne was through listening to her friend grouse and complain and she wasn’t about to let him go on wallowing. “Besides, you love the museum.”
“Not any more, I don’t,” Justin refused to be coddled into a good mood.
“Shut up. You do love the museum. You adore art. Why else would you have applied to PIFA?” Daphne went on, trying to segue gently into the subject she really wanted to discsuss.
“I didn’t apply to PIFA, Daph.”
“Well, if you didn’t apply, then how do you explain your acceptance letter? Your mom showed it to me yesterday.”
“You don’t understand, Daphne.”
“Well, fucking explain it to me then, you dweeb.”
“It was . . . It must have been Brian.”
“Huh?” Daphne, the tenacious little pit bull that she was, would not be letting this drop, especially since she had orders from Jennifer to find out exactly what this was all about. “Justin. You are going to tell me everything, you know. I have my ways. You might as well just make it easy on yourself and come clean now.”
“Fuck off, Daph.”
“Nope. Not gonna happen, Jus. So, are you saying Brian applied to PIFA for you?”
“I was going to apply. For Kinnetik, you know; so I would have more credentials behind me and Brian wouldn’t be ashamed to have me as his Art Director,” Justin finally started to explain. “But I never got a chance to complete the application and send it in. Brian must have done it after . . .”
The pair were entering the Dutch Masters gallery at the Carnegie Museum of Art, one of Justin’s favorite galleries in the world renowned museum. He’d always been amazed how lifelike these images were and how they could use light so proficiently to highlight their otherwise dark works. Even this gallery wasn’t working to bring him out of his depression today, though. He just rambled along, barely even seeing the art as he followed along wherever Daphne chose to lead.
“So what? You still got in on your own merit, even if you didn’t finish the application on your own. Why did you tell your mom it didn’t matter,” Daphne continued to press. “You should still go. It would be perfect for you, Justin.”
“What exactly would be the point now, Daphne? I’m not . . . I don’t want to go there, Daph. I’ll just go to Dartmouth, like I already planned. I’ve already sent in my acceptance letter there anyway.” Justin wasn’t really fooling his best friend, he knew, but he just really didn’t want to talk about this subject any more.
“Fine. Be stupid and throw your life away,” Daphne conceded, at least for the time being. “But you’re going to be absolutely miserable being a business major, you know.”
Justin didn’t bother to respond. It was easier to let Daphne think she’d won the argument and hope that she would finally shut up. Eventually, the two teens wandered into the Impressionist Gallery and continued strolling along for several minutes, mostly without talking, Justin lost in his own thoughts and Daphne watching Justin.
They were sitting on a padded bench, staring at a large abstract impressionist piece that took up most of one wall, when Justin felt a tap on his shoulder and turned to see who might be trying to get his attention. He was surprised to see Lindsey, with Gus in a stroller, standing behind him, smiling down at his confusion.
“Justin. I thought that was you,” the stately, tall, blonde woman gushed. “I see you’re admiring the Kandinsky. It’s one of my favorites, too. Mind if Gus and I join you?”
“Please. Lindsey, this is my best friend, Daphne. Daph, this is Lindsey Peterson and this adorable little scamp is Gus.”
Justin made the introductions, ending by reaching into the stroller and extricating a giggling toddler who was yelling ‘Jus’n’ at the sight of his favorite babysitter. Justin hugged the warm little body tightly, amazed at how happy he felt to see the little boy. But, when Gus started gabbling loudly, excited to tell his friend about whatever toddler adventures he’d had recently, Justin signalled to Lindsey that he would take Gus out of the Gallery, allowing the other patrons to continue viewing the art without being disturbed. Lindsey, like any mother of a babbling toddler, was thrilled to let Justin have a turn at childcare duty and nodded happily while she continued to admire the painting and chatted with Daphne.
Justin set Gus down so the boy could walk while holding on to the young man’s hand. He led the little boy to the Children’s Play Area, located in a back corner of the museum and, after putting one of the available painting smocks hanging from a peg on the boy, he let Gus go at the finger paints, joining in eventually himself. Justin was having so much fun with the boisterous, engaging little boy that he completely lost track of time and was startled when he finally looked up to see Lindsey and Daphne walking up to them, the boy’s mother beaming at the two paint smeared kids. Daphne was smiling too, glad to see Justin smiling for the first time in weeks.
“Well, Picasso and Son, let’s see your fabulous masterpieces,” Lindsey said while trying to fend off the fingers dripping with paint that her offspring was trying to wrap around her in greeting.
“He’s not bad,” Justin commented, proud of his young protege, displaying the child’s artwork to his mother. “Gus definitely has the concept of ‘abstract’ down, at least.”
“You are so wonderful with Gus,” Lindsey complimented when the boys had both been cleaned up and the group was headed down to the cafe on the ground floor for a quick snack. “You are going to make a wonderful father some day.”
“Yeah. Right.” Justin shook his head in denial.
“I mean it, Justin.” Lindsey insisted. “You have a real connection with Gus. I can see you with a whole passle of kids of your own someday.”
“Somehow, Lindsey, I just can’t see myself as the suburban father of three, dragging the kids to the Country Club on the weekends and forcing them to conform to society’s norms like my parents did to me.” Justin was still irate with his mother over the Founder’s Day Brunch fiasco and wasn’t likely to forget it soon.
“Well, I agree with that,” Lindsey laughed. “I can’t see Brian at the Country Club, either. Unless he was sucking off the waiter in the kitchen and making fun of the Bridge Club. Although, that is something I would pay money to see.”
Justin looked over at Daphne, who gave him a little head shake indicating she hadn’t told the blonde about the blowup with Brian. Justin sighed, wishing that the topic of the handsome brunet hadn’t come up to crash his good mood. Right then Gus came up to Justin and patted the youth’s knee, asking ‘up, up’. Justin lifted the boy into his lap and helped him take a sip of his water. Gus settled his small head against Justin’s shoulder and his eyelids immediately started to droop. And, in that completely trusting way small children sometimes have, Gus was asleep in Justin’s arms in a matter of seconds.
“Well, it looks like it’s time for me to head home.” Lindsey said, starting to get to her feet. “Too bad, I still didn’t get a chance to see the Piet Mondrian exhibit - that was actually the reason I came today. But it looks like you’ve worn Gus out too well, Justin. I’ll have to come back another day.”
“Lindz, you don’t have to go. I’m happy to watch Gus while you and Daphne finish enjoying the exhibit,” Justin offered, rocking the warm little body and inhaling that clean, innocent, sleeping-child smell. “If you want, I could even take him back to your place so he can get a real nap, while you take some time off.”
“Oh, Justin, I couldn’t ask you to do that.”
“I insist, Lindz. Really. I’m enjoying this. Gus is so easy to take care of; it’s no big deal, really.” Justin offered again.
“You’re sure you wouldn’t mind?”
“I’m sure. In fact, I insist. Why don’t you call Mel and the two of you can go out to lunch or something. I don’t have anything else to do today, anyways, and I love spending time with this little guy.”
After all the details were worked out, Lindsey gave Justin her keys and then headed off to view the private exhibit with Daphne, the two women having hit it off immediately. Justin continued to sit in the cafe, holding and rocking the sleepy little boy, finding it incredibly relaxing to hold the toddler while he slept. Justin let his mind wander, thinking about the earlier conversation and the idea of raising a child in the Country Club suburbs versus the alternative families he’d seen around Liberty Avenue. From everything he’d seen, Justin thought the ‘alternative’ families were more stable than the traditional ones he was familiar with.
-I really wouldn’t mind having a child someday, I guess. But that’s not likely to happen unless I suddenly develop a taste for pussy . . . Although, what Brian has with Lindsey and Mel isn’t so bad . . . I hope Brian gets to spend more time with Gus, like he said he wanted. He’s really a great dad - he just needs a bit more practice . . . I could take Gus over there right now, and see if he wanted to . . . Shit. What the fuck am I thinking . . . Gus looks so much like him . . . Fuck, I miss him . . . I hope he’s okay. From what Ted said the other day, it sounded like he was pretty fucked up . . . So am I . . . Why am I doing this again? So what if he didn’t tell me the truth about our being in a ‘relationship’ before I was bashed - he didn’t ever really lie to me, he just let me think what I wanted . . . Shit, he did so much for me - a complete stranger - I can’t believe he would just take me in like that and take care of me, even gave me a job, when he didn’t even know me really . . . It’s just that I thought he really loved me. That we had a commitment . . . But it was all just in my imagination . . . I’m so fucked.
Justin began to gather Gus’ things together. He put the sleeping child into the stroller and started to head out for the short walk over to Mel & Lindz’ place. A block or two from the museum, Justin passed by an old mansion that had been converted into a law office. The turn of the century Arts and Crafts style building reminded Justin of the Governor Hotel back in Portland and about everything else that had happened in that lovely old hotel. That, in turn, brought to mind the lovely afternoon dream he’d had yesterday; he blushed again just remembering how vivid that dream had been. He hadn’t had a wet dream in a long time, but that one . . . Well, it was worth having to get up and change the sheets, he thought.
Justin’s mind was still wandering while he strolled with the sleeping child, but no matter what he tried to focus on, he kept coming back to that delicious dream; well, more a memory than a dream really, since it had all really happened. That was an amazing way to lose your virginity, Justin thought. Even if he hadn’t known at the time that that was happening. Brian was very good at what he did.
-He looked so beautiful at the end when he came . . . Shit, he was glorious with his head thrown back and his eyes lit up like that . . . And when he came and he shouted out my name . . . . . . . . . . Shit. He said he loved me. When he came, he yelled out that he loved me . . . That was real. It wasn’t something I imagined. Brian does love me . . . Brian loves me. It wasn’t all just something I made up in my mind. Brian does love me.
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Jennifer Taylor was rushed that morning and didn’t really want to stop to answer the phone. It was probably just that reporter who had been calling from the local business journal asking more annoying questions about Taylor Electronics. Jennifer didn’t really know anything about what had been going on at the company under Craig’s governance. Unfortunately, though, she was going to have to learn fast. With Craig out of the picture for who knew how long, Jennifer was either going to have to step up and take over running the business or sell it fast. She was actually late for an appointment with a lawyer to discuss her options, which was another reason she didn’t want to answer the phone. However, it could be Molly or Justin, she thought, so she stopped and answered the phone.
“Hello. Is Mr. Craig Taylor available?” a pleasant voice said.
“I’m sorry, but no. Mr. Taylor is not available and probably won’t be for a long, long time, unless you want to contact him at the Allegheny County Correctional Facility.” Jennifer didn’t have time to mess around and if this was another reporter or some other busybody, well, let them call Craig directly for his statement she thought.
“I see, hmmmm. This is Al Gregson, I’m an auditor with First Bank of Pittsburgh. I really need to talk to whomever is responsible for the Justin C. Taylor Trust. If Mr. Taylor is currently in prison, then that would definitely disqualify him from acting as the administrator of the trust. Let me see,” the auditor paused momentarily while reviewing his records. “Ahh. Yes. The records show that the Substitute Trustee in this case is a Mrs. Jennifer Taylor. Would that, perchance, be you Madam?”
“Yes. I’m Jennifer Taylor. May I ask why you’re calling?”
“Of Course, Madam. You see, there have been a number of discrepancies recently with this particular Trust Account as well as numerous, questionable, withdrawals. The account has been severely depleted, which is what brought the matter to my attention in the first place. I would appreciate it if you would come into the bank so that we could discuss the matter.”
“That little fucker!" Jennifer knew almost at once who had been making the withdrawals, and it certainly hadn’t been Justin. “Sorry. I’m just a little angry at my husband. Mr. Gregson, I am on my way to meet with my attorney about several other business matters this morning. I would be happy to meet with you later this afternoon, however. Would 2:00 pm be okay with you?”
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Craig Taylor was glad to finally be out of that damned County lockup. The arraignment hearing this morning hadn’t gone well, at least not according to the idiot public defender he’d had to accept since Jennifer had cut him off and refused to pay for an attorney for him. But at least they had agreed to let him post bond, secured by a mortgage on the house, which was still partly in his name; thankfully that bitch hadn’t gotten around to changing that yet. So, here Craig was, standing on the street corner in front of the jail, wearing the same stinking clothes he’d been in two weeks ago when he’d been arrested, and waiting for his mistress to pick him up. At least Connie was still on his side, Craig thought.
Finally, after waiting for at least fifteen minutes, Craig saw the sporty little miata convertible he’d bought Connie a couple weeks earlier, pulling out of traffic towards him. He waived at the sassy little redhead as she drove up and waited while she pulled into the curb. Before Craig could get into the car, however, Connie was out of the driver’s side door and pacing around to where he was standing, with a very forbidding glower on her usually sexy face.
“What the fuck, now, Connie?” Craig was not in the mood to deal with a disgruntled mistress.
“You tell me, Craig,” Connie yelled, her long, pink, acrylic nails pointing at him only a few inches from his face. “Why the hell is my bank account frozen? I tried to get some cash out this morning and I was told there’s some kind of federal order thingy and they’ve frozen my account.”
“How the hell would I know why your account is frozen, Connie.” Craig was now yelling back, disregarding the crowd of people who were now gathering to stare at the spectacle. “Did you bounce a bunch more checks or something?”
“Fuck, no. I didn’t bounce any checks. The bank manager told me it was because of YOU, Craig. You’re under investigation for Federal Bank Fraud or some shit like that. They told me I could even lose my condo. You stupid little shit; how dare you get me involved in something like this,” Connie was now so incensed that she let loose and slapped Craig as hard as she could, and was glad to see that her hard nails left little half-moon bloody marks where she hit him. “We’re through, Craig. Find some other willing hole to stick your dick into from now on. I’m going to go see my lawyer to find out how to keep my condo.”
Craig Taylor stood on the sidewalk and watched as the fiery redhead got back in her car and drove away. He was now homeless, friendless and broke. All because of a couple of little faggots. Fuck them. He would get even, somehow. Justin and that Brian Kinney would both pay for what he was having to go through.