JUSTIN’S POV

When I get you all alone
I’m gonna take off all your clothes
Ain’t nobody gonna interrupt my game

I don’t think I’ve done this since I was eight or nine—walk along the edge of a fountain. It’s a lot more fun when you’re drunk. I mean tipsy. I’m not really drunk. I’m tipsy. And this fountain in the middle of the lobby is gargantuan. And loud. Loud and gargantuan. Gargantuan. G-A-R-G-A-N-T-U-A-N. Gargantuan.

“Don’t fall.” He sneaks up behind me. It’s about time he got over here. Took him forever to pay the check.

“You scared me. You just made me throw my last quarter in there.”

“And a condom.”

“Whoops.” Shit.

“What did you wish for?” You don’t wish on a condom. Idiot.

“I’m not going to tell you.” When I stand on the edge like this, I’m almost as tall as Brian. He reaches into his pocket, pulls out a bunch of change and throws all of it into the fountain all at once.

“Okay, I’ll go first. I’ll tell you what my wish was.”

“That was a pretty expensive wish.” That was at least three dollars in change, maybe more.

“I wished for peace.” Bullshit.

“World peace?”

“A piece of ass. And it was very expensive…..it was yours.” Flattery. I have the stupidest grin on my face. It’s making him sooooo happy. “So now, it’s your turn. Tell me what you wished for.”

“I told you ‘no.’”

“Okay. Then I’m going to guess.” His left foot joins my feet on the edge of the fountain as he pulls me tightly against him. He’s hard, and he wants me to know it. I push back a little. I can’t help myself. I have no self-control when he does that. His fingers are on the bridge of his nose. “Okay, I’ve got to think…….what would you wish for?”

I lay my head back against his shoulder, my hands shoved in my pockets. Droplets of water sprinkle all over my face. Feels tingly.

“Hurry up.”

“Why?”

“Because everybody in this lobby is staring at us. You’re embarrassing me.”

“Fuck them.” He clutches me tighter, pushes against me. I don’t even think he thinks about it. He just does it. “Okay, I’ve got it. You wished that I would stop embarrassing you in front of all these god-fearing Christian folk.”

Like it would matter. Like he’d stop. Plus, I can’t lie.

“No.”

“Shit. Okay, okay, let me think.” He taps his foot on the side of the fountain next to my feet. There are water droplets all over our shoes, my brand new shoes. I love my shoes. “Can I have a hint?”

“It’ll cost you.”

“I have spent a fucking fortune on you in the last few hours. I’ve earned a free hint.” True.

“Okay, you’re right. One hint.” His face is right next to mine on my shoulder.

“Go on.”

“It’s something I want from you.” Now I’m hard.

He’s licking his lips. I can hear it in my ear. That’s all I can hear now, rushing water and him, breathing in my ear. “Hmmmmmm. Hmmmmm. Hmmmmmm.” I wish he would quit that. “Let me see.” He’s drumming his fingers on my stomach. “Is it something I have to buy?”

“I told you--one hint.”

“We’re going to be standing here for a loooooooooooong time.”

“No, it’s not something you buy.” I'm so easy when I’m tipsy.

“Okay. I’m going to figure this out.” He just unbuttoned my shirt and slid his hand inside it. Thank god my jacket’s buttoned.

“You won’t guess it.” He’ll run out of patience first. He has no patience when he’s horny.

“Okay, how ‘bout this? How about we compromise?” He turns me around so that I’m facing him, his arms around me, outside my jacket. We’re almost eye to eye. I fling my arms around his neck.

“How about if I take you upstairs…and get you out of your very… beautiful… clothes… that you look so very… beautiful… in…and I let you tell me… every little thing that you want… while you sit on my very hard la-p?”

Who could turn down an offer like that?

I moan into his kiss, although I doubt he can hear me over the water. I can’t feel my knees when he talks to me like this. If I fall into this fountain, he’s going with me.

He lifts my chin. “I can’t kiss you when you put your head down.”

“You’re embarrassing me again.” I can feel it which means everybody can see it.

“I know. You’re blushing.” His tongue is in my ear. “I must have gotten something right.”

“You weren’t even close.” My head is on his shoulder. This way I don’t have to look at him.

“You don’t want to go upstairs and sit on my lap?” That’s a hard question to answer. It’s a trick question, a typical Kinney move, accompanied by excessive groping.

“Yes…”

“But…” He will stand here all night and fondle me until I answer him.

“That’s not all I want.”

He lifts me off the fountain and onto the floor, resuming his position of power. He knows what I mean, and I know he knows. His voice gets a little more seductive as he stands here with his arms around me, his forehead on mine. I have to look at him now. His eyes are like magnets.

“I know what you want.” I’m glad he’s holding me up. Nothing else is. “You told me this morning right before the pancakes and the sausage.” He can tell that he got it right, that I’m happy. “See I listen. I didn’t forget.”

“I know. You just prefer me in a debilitating state of arousal.” He grins at me, eyebrow and all.

“I’d prefer you in the state of Pennsylvania.”

Me too. “Can we not talk about that right now?” He feels the change in my body. “Can we just go upstairs?” I feel it in his.

His voice softens. “Yeah.”

We leave the roaring water behind.
****************************************

************
Is love so fragile and the heart so hollow
shatter with words impossible to follow

“I’ll go upstairs and get them for you if you want.”

“No, it’s fine. Just give me yours.” I don’t mind Brian’s cigarettes once in a while. “I need your lighter, too.”

“Do you want me to come with you? I’ll come with you.”

“No. I’m fine. I’m just going out that door.” It’s just the parking lot. Jesus.

“Then I’m going up front to get my car key. I’ll meet you out there in a second.”

“Fine.” Stop hovering.

I need to smoke before we go upstairs. It’s pretty fucking cold out here. Sobers you up. I’m surprised I’m the only one out here; there are a shit load of people in this hotel tonight. It’s not even that late. After a few puffs, I don’t even need this cigarette as badly as I thought I did. I’ll just go find him.

Or not.

I can’t get back in. Door’s locked. Both of them.

Shit.

And there’s no one in this hallway. Great. Now I have to walk all the way around this entire place to the front door.

The front lobby is busy, but no sign of Brian. He’s not at the fountain. He’ll find me. I’ll just go back the way we were going. This place is one big circle. There are at least five weddings receptions going on here tonight, some business function, and I think a bachelorette party. Some door just swung open, and I swear I saw strippers in there. I wonder if the bible people saw that.

It’s really odd to see how different people’s receptions are. Some are so elegant and others are so tacky—to each their own, I guess. I stop outside the most elegant one to wait for Brian. He should be able to see me here. It’s really nice—formal, black tie, pretty good band. Some little girl just slid across the floor in her black shoes and fell on her ass. She’s screaming. Kind of late for a kid that young to be at reception like this. There’s this really beautiful portrait of the bride just inside the doorway. I can almost read the artist’s name from where I am. I don’t want to make it obvious that I’m lurking outside their party. Some woman is setting up all kinds of stuff on this table by the door. Party favors. I didn’t know they gave out party favors at a wedding. Ha. I can just imagine what kind of favors we’d give out if we got married. “Milk chocolate dicks on a stick. They come in your mouth—not in your han—"

“Don’t disappear on me like that.” I knew he’d find me.

“I got locked out.”

“No shit. So did I. I went out there to meet you and couldn’t get back in. That bitch at the front desk--”

“What’d you go and do that for? They just work here.” He knows I can’t stand it when he goes off on people in the service industry. I mean, hello, I am one. Was one.

“Because they should put a fucking sign up if those doors are going to automatically lock at a certain time.” He was really worried about me. He just took it out on her.

“Well, you shouldn’t yell at someone who has no control over that. That’s shitty, Brian.” We were separated for like what? Seven? Eight minutes?

“Why are you standing here anyway? Let’s go.” He pulls my arm. I pull back.

“I’m just watching this wedding reception. It’s really classy. Plus, there’s this really beautiful portrait right there, and I’m trying to see who painted it. I just don’t want to appear obvious.” He’s standing behind me with his hand on my shoulder now, calming down.

“I’ll go look.”

“No. I’m just waiting a second ‘til that woman finishes putting out all of those party favors. She’s almost done with those little chocolate things.”

“What the fuck are they?”

“How should I know? Don’t talk so loud.” His arms are wrapped around my shoulders now, but not like at the fountain, just in a nice way. Thank god.

“Their names are Casey and Kelly? Which one’s which?”

“Kelly’s the bride, I think. Was that what we looked like when we danced?” My hands are hanging off of his arms. I like it when he holds me like this.

“Casey’s a dog’s name. Like what? What do you mean?”

“Like that. The way those people are dancing—all formal and everything.” Sometimes he’s dense.

“No, we didn’t look like robots with bad hair and no fashion sense.”

“Don’t be a smart ass.”

“I’m being serious. We didn’t look like that. Plus, we had the whole floor to ourselves.”

“What did we look like?”

I guess he’s thinking about it.

“We looked like two people fucking with their clothes on.”

“Brian.”

“We did. We moved like we were……making love…..except for the part where I spun you around and around. You were quite the tiny dancer.”

I tilt my head back, looking up at him. “Yeah, we don’t do that spinning thing when we fuck anymore.”

“Yeah, not since you hit the wall that time. That kind of took the fun out of it.” He laughs, resting his chin back on the top of my head.

“Why did we have the floor to ourselves? No one else wanted to dance with us?” I know why, logically, I guess. There are parts of the story that I feel like I know, but sometimes I just like his version better.

“No, because they were spellbound. They couldn’t take their eyes off of us. They couldn’t have moved if they wanted to.” He kisses the top of my head. “She’s done. Go look.” He lets go of me.

I only have to take about two steps inside to peek at the painting.

It only took one to have the door slammed shut in my face by Party Bitch.

“Excuse me. This is a private affair for invited guests.”

I don’t think anyone has ever looked at us with more disgust—at least, not anyone that I can remember.

“Fucking bitch!” As loud as he said that, she probably heard it.

“Forget it, Brian. Let’s go upstairs.”
**************************
the Cuervo Gold
the fine Colombian
Make tonight a wonderful thing

His arm is tight around me as we walk away. I lean against him as we leave to go upstairs, all that wine making me a little tired. He stops in front of a space adjacent to one of many receptions going on here tonight and opens the door for me. “Go on in.”

“Why?”

“Just go in.”

“Are there people in here? Is someone going to jump out at me and yell ‘SURPRISE!’” Seriously, I’ve had enough surprises.

“No. It’s empty. Go.” He pushes me inside. It’s a huge room, like a ballroom, I guess, with a lot of tables and chairs pushed up against the walls. There’s a piano toward the front, and a little stage in the back. He finds the dimmer switch and brings up the lights just a little so it’s not pitch black.

“Why are we in here?” Everything echoes in here.

“Why are you whispering? Listen.” You can hear the band. He walks over to the far side of the room closest to the wall. The band is playing right on the other side. “Come here.” I walk over to where he’s standing. He takes me in his arms. “I’ve been trying to get you in here for a good thirty minutes.”

“You have?”

“Yeah.” He smiles this very small smile at me. “But you wanted to wish for things, get locked out, look at a painting, drive me up a wall…your usual routine.” He kisses me, softly, sweetly.

“You wanted to fuck in here?” I have this image in my head of him running around scoping out places for us to fuck besides our room. He kind of laughs at me and shakes his head.

“No.” His hand is on the back of my head. I lay my head against his chest.

I don’t recognize this song, and I’m about to ask him what it is when I realize that it doesn’t even matter. We have the floor to ourselves.

Somehow I know we always will.

“I don’t think my feet work like this anymore.”

“Don’t think about your feet, Justin.” I close my eyes, his jacket, his heartbeat against my face. Beats and measures. Stops and starts.

Sway.

“Brian?” I don’t think I’m moving much at all. I can’t tell.

“Hmm?” His lips are in my hair.

“It’s not working. If I stop thinking about my feet, I start thinking about everything else.”

“Then just think about mine.” The floor seems to shift underneath our feet, doing the work for us, so that we can stand still. He feels familiar, like what you’ve always wanted, and strong. Smells like the promise of something you knew you had to have.

“Brian, is this what it was like?” He takes his time with my question, the song playing out, his arms beginning to loosen. I feel his warm breath in my face.

He answers me before he kisses me. “Yeah. This is exactly what it was like.”

“Then this is how I’ll always remember it.”
**************************
don’t stand so close to me

“It was Hey Nineteen."

“What was hey nineteen?” There are about fourteen hundred people in this elevator.

“The song we were dancing to. It was Hey Nineteen by Steely Dan. I just figured it out. That would’ve bugged the shit out of me all night.” He should have listened to me and waited for the next one, but instead he bolted for this one, along with everyone else in the entire hotel.

“I didn’t know what it was. Didn’t really matter.” I want to tell him that I didn’t even need any music--at all--but later, not in front of this crowd—grandmothers, a crying baby, a few preachers, and a drunk girl with the hiccups. Most of them empty out by the fourteenth floor anyway, where we make our switch into the “rich people’s elevator.” That’s what I call it now—to myself. Sometimes it’s kind of crazy when you switch because of the timing. If all of the lower elevators arrive at the same time, you end up with this maze of people trying to figure out which way to go—kind of like a subway system—only heated. Everyone ends up in the right place; it’s like a mad game of musical chairs for about fifteen seconds.

That’s exactly what it is right now. I’m still holding his hand as we weave our way to the one we want. His choice again. Our hands disconnect as I step forward to press ‘28’ and look behind me out of courtesy to see if anyone else needs another floor.

Fuck that.

Party Bitch.

Smooth move Brian. Next time, I pick the elevator. But I’m dressed like a gentleman, so I’ll act like one. Plus, she’s outnumbered. It’s only us and her. Too bad Party Bitch.

“What floor?” I give her my strained smile. Brian has just clued in.

“26.” She clutches her purse. Like I want your purse bitch. I press her button and go back and stand beside Brian on the other side of the elevator. She’s facing the front. We’re clear on the other side. Brian’s leaning against the back wall facing forward; I’m leaning against the side wall facing her, but I’m not staring at her. I’m looking at Brian.

He’s staring at her, with his polite contempt, then looking at me. We’ve got a long way to go with Party Bitch, only just reaching sixteen now.

I watch him, watch her, not watching us. Her eyes are super-glued to the numbers lighting up one by one. I’m so busy watching her that I jump just a little when Brian leans over and kisses me. He doesn’t do it in his usual way. It’s surprisingly chaste--kind of like the way I kiss my mother. I think he was going for a sound effect. She puts her purse on her shoulder and smoothes her dress with her hands a couple of times. Eighteen.

Brian leans back against the wall, a very thoughtful look on his face, and then asks me in all seriousness, “You douched, right?”

She’s getting off at twenty now.

Change of plans, I guess. I can’t say anything because I’ll either kill him or bust out laughing. So, instead, I just look straight ahead and hold up two fingers. He nods.

“Well, it’s a good thing because the last guy they sent me didn’t, and I refused to pay him.” She’ll probably report us to hotel management. She doesn’t even wait for the doors to open all the way; she just worms her way out. “Have a nice evening.”

I'm always proud of him for the strangest reasons. “You’re unbelievable, Brian.”

“It’s true. I am. Oh.” He reaches into his pocket as the elevator starts moving again. “Here’s the name of that artist.” He hands me a slip of paper.

“When did you get this?”

“When you thought I was taking a leak.” He grins at me. “That bitch hates my fucking guts.” He laughs. “Here, I stole one of these too.” He hands me a chocolate wedding-thing on a stick. “They suck. I already ate mine.” I unwrap my stolen Party Bitch wedding favor.

“Oh my god, they do suck. This is the worst chocolate I’ve ever tasted.” I make a horrible face. We’re definitely not having this crap at our never-wedding. Emmett’s stuff is a million times better than this.

“Don’t make that ugly face. It clashes with your ensemble. I’m still picturing you as my fairy princess.” He taps on his watch. “And it’s not midnight. I get you at least until midnight.”

“Oh, I’d say, you’re paid up for a good twenty-four hours, at least, if not more.”

Be careful what you wish for because you just might get it.

He fucked me in the elevator.