BRIAN'S POV

Doctor, doctor, give me the news

I've got a bad case of lovin' you

The label on this turkey sandwich says “lean” or “low fat” or some shit like that, but that is total bullshit. This is complete, processed crap. And this salad is nothing but a light green, cold, cry for help, but I’m fucking famished. I guess I’m eating it anyway. It seems counterintuitive to serve food that will obviously kill you in a hospital cafeteria.

At least I’ve got good company.

“Here. You can have these chips. I don’t want them.” Jennifer can tell I’m still hungry and dissatisfied with my lunch. I take them. She looks at her watch. “It’s going to be at least fifteen more minutes before he gets back down here.” She sighs. I nod.

“I’m going to step outside for a second and smoke if you don’t mind. I won’t be long.”

“Go right ahead. I’ll be right here.”

***************************************************************************************************************

I navigate the hallways of Allegheny General and find my way back outside to the de-facto smoking area and light up. This is the other thing that always confuses me about hospitals: the smoking area is always populated by doctors, nurses, and critically ill patients. Completely baffling.

The last hour or so inside the hospital has been an eye-opening experience. I probably need time to digest it. I can’t decide who I’m more frustrated with right now—myself or Justin. I need to call him anyway, and worry about that later, I guess. I call his cell phone, hoping he can find it somewhere in the twisted sheets I left him in.

“Hello?” My sleepy blond piece of everything.

“Hey sleepy head, Lindsay and Gus are going to pick you up in about three and half hours to have dinner at the diner. You need to be sure you’re up and dressed.”

“Okay. What time is it?”

“2:00. I’ve got a couple of last minute work things to do, but I’ll meet you guys there. But listen, don’t forget. Set that alarm on your cell phone so you’ll get up. I’ll spank the shit out of you if my son walks in and sees my blond piece of fuck naked in my bed, got it?”

“Mmmm, hmmm.” He’s totally zonked.

Was that a yes? I wait for an answer. “Justin?” More waiting. “Justin! Wake up! I’m serious.”

“I’m here. Don’t be mean to me when I’m jerking off Brian.”

“You little fucker.” I hang up on him. This kid learns too fast. I should stop paying for his education. He clearly doesn’t need one. I call him back.

“You’re too late now. I’m all done.”

“You like it when I’m mean to you, remember?”

“Do you ever let me forget it? I’m going back to sleep. Stop calling me.” He kisses the phone before he hangs up.

His ass is so mine.

***************************************************************************************************************

Jennifer hands me the list of neurologists in L.A. when I return to our table.

“You just missed him.”

“I thought we were going to get more than three names.”

“He said these are the only ones that he knows well and are accepting new patients.”

“Oh.” I didn’t think about that. “So I guess I’m going to talk to him about this?” I tuck the list in my wallet.

“I think it’s probably better that way, considering he’s been lying to me for over a year," Jennifer says.

And me too, I guess. Or rather, a sin of omission.

“How did you find out?” I ask.

“Dr. Madsen, Scott, and I have the same divorce lawyer, and we go to the same country club. We ran into each other one day. It was a few days after one of Justin’s appointments that Justin told me about, so I just casually thanked him for taking such good care of him, and he told me he hadn’t seen Justin in over a year.”

“And you asked Justin about it?”

“Yeah, in a very innocuous way. He just stuck to his story. His next appointment came up—the reminders still come to my address—I asked him about it; he gave me the usual song and dance. I called Scott; Scott told me he didn’t show up.”

“He doesn’t even talk to me about these appointments. I mean I don’t think he does.” I need to pay better attention.

“Well, I was also concerned about saying anything because of doctor-patient confidentiality. So, I wasn’t sure what to do. The thing that is bothering me is that if he doesn’t feel he needs to go anymore, then just tell me or tell us. Why the secrecy? He used to go with me all the time. The appointments were routine. It’s no big deal.”

“What do they do?”

“A basic neurological exam. Check reflexes, hand-eye coordination, etc.”

“Does he have trouble with that?” Why don’t I know these things?

“Not usually. I mean we’re talking about a while ago now. Sometimes his right hand doesn’t cooperate the way he wants it to or as quickly as he wants it to, but nothing that catastrophic. Nothing he can’t—well couldn’t overcome. Just whatever you do Brian, don’t make him think that we were just going behind his back. I don’t want him to think that.”

“We are.” Aren’t we?

“Just make him understand the reason. That if he’s going to go all the way across the country, he needs to do this. Tell him to do it for his mother’s sake. I won’t even have you out there looking out for him.”

Yeah, I’ll try to make Justin do something. That’s always been highly effective. “I’ll talk to him. I’ll find out what’s going on. Are you ready to go?”

“Yeah, we can plan Sunday night on the ride back. I’ve got to remember to invite Daphne. Hey, do you think I should invite Tripper?”

“That’s your call. I’m not touching that.” That’s one subject I won’t be talking to Justin about.

*********************************************************************************************************************

JUSTIN'S POV

“I called the office. Your meeting is canceled." KNOCK

You know, you shouldn’t be such a twat, when I’m KNOCK showing you how much I love you." KNOCK, KNOCK, KNOCK

"You’re not going anywhere. Do you hear me, tight boy?" KNOCK, KNOCK

"Because no matter what happens..." KNOCK, KNOCK, KNOCK.”

“FUCK. FUCK. Shit!!! I’m awake. I’m awake. I’m awake.” And I’m naked. And I overslept. Oh shit. Where are my fucking sweat pants? Shit. Here they are. “I’m coming.”

I have never been so happy after opening a door in my life.

“Oh thank god it’s just you Em. I thought I overslept. What time is it?”

“It’s 3:30, honey.” He pushes through the door with all of his packages. “What the fuck happened in here? This place looks like shit and smells like fuck!”

“Long story not worth telling.” I trudge back to the bedroom and climb back into bed. He follows me.

“I take it you had a long night?”

“You could say that.” I bury myself under the sheets. Emmett’s eyes scan our bedroom, which still looks worse than the rest of the loft.

“Well, okay then. I knew you two had a wild sex life, but this is a little wilder than I even imagined.”

“Brian and I had a fight. Everything’s okay now.”

“Okay, that makes more sense. Makes me feel a little better.” He rubs my shoulder. “I got everything you needed and I bought you a pres-ent!” He runs back out to the kitchen and starts digging through the bags. I wish I had his energy right now.

“What did you get me?”

He yells at me from the kitchen. “Close your eyes.”

“Okay.” I hear him walking toward the bed.

“Are they closed?”

“Yes.” I feel him sit on the bed and sit something beside him. I’m afraid to open my eyes.

“Okay. Now before you open your eyes, let me just tell you that this is a special gift from me to you. I have used this myself, well not this one exactly, but it works wonders, and I think you’ll really love it. Okay, you can open your eyes.”

Now I’m really scared. I open my eyes.

“Emmett!”

“What? Don’t you like it?”

“It’s a 64 oz. tub of ‘Butt Butter’!”

“Honey, this is what all spoiled bottoms everywhere use—you know, to recover. Or to stay in tip-top condition--if you know what I mean. Michael uses it.”

I hide my head under my pillow. Since when am I a spoiled bottom? Since when do I want to know about Michael’s personal sexual habits? Gross.

I mumble to Emmett from my hiding place. “You embarrass me.” He pokes me.

“You’re so cute. I’m surprised Brian hasn’t bought you some already. I’m sure he knows about this stuff.” He picks up the jar and starts reading me the ingredients. I kick him.

“Get out!!” I’m so mortified. He leaves the tub on the bed and goes out to the kitchen to unpack everything.

“Sweetie, I’m going to put all your stuff in a little pile over here. Are you just gonna sleep all day or what?”

“I have to get up in forty-five minutes because Gus and Lindsay are coming to take me to the diner for dinner.”

“They’re coming here to this mess? Oh no. You go back to sleep. I’m gonna clean this up a little. You can’t have a small child walk into Brian Kinney’s natural habitat. He’ll be traumatized.”

“Wake me up in forty-five minutes, okay?”

“Sure thing.”

I wait until Em is totally involved in what he’s doing before I open the vat of Butt Butter. It smells really good. I put some on my ass. I hope this stuff works.

*******************************************************************************************************************

Gus is as bossy as his father. He might even be worse, if that’s possible. If he is, that’s probably Melanie’s influence. This can’t be all Brian’s fault.

It might also have something to do with his new black leather jacket. He looks so much like Brian today. It’s really cute. God, I’m going to miss just hanging out with him.

The diner is busy, and Gus is too—but not busy doing what he should be doing—eating his dinner.

“Be still, Mr. Justin.” He stares at me from across the booth, pad of paper and crayon in hand. This is my fault; I taught him to do this the other day at Kinnetik when he was tearing through Brian’s office, and he needed him to sit still. I’m clever like that.

“Gus, how about if you finish drawing me after dinner? Your food is getting cold.”

“I’m almost done.” I think he’s working on my hair because he just picked up a yellow crayon.

“Okay. One more minute and then you have to put it down, no matter what.”

The minute ends and he shows me his picture. It’s priceless. I ask him if I can have it, and he says he needs to “work on it some more.” I tell him not to forget to sign his name, that an artist always signs his art.

“Okay, finish your sandwich and your french fries.” I’m almost done with mine.

“Mr. Justin, where is Daddy?”

“Why are you calling me Mr. Justin now?” This is a new thing for him, usually it’s just ‘Justin.’

“At school I have Mr. Jason, Miss Martha, and Miss Sarah.” Oh, okay, I get it. I’ll just add that to my list of nicknames.

“Your dad is at work. He should be here any minute though.” I hope he gets here soon. I thought I was going to get to spend more time with him today. Not that it mattered much, I was so fucking tired—still, it would have been nice to have him next to me.

“What is my daddy’s job?” How do I explain this? He squirts ketchup all over his french fries—way too much.

“’Whoa Gus. Take it easy. That’s enough ketchup. Your dad works in advertising.” I take the ketchup bottle from him and put it back on the table.

“What’s ‘vertising?” I knew that wouldn’t make sense.

I think about how to explain this to him. I could show him a magazine, but good luck finding an appropriate one around here. I opt for something more universal. “Okay, you know how you see commercials on television when you watch Spongebob and Sesame Street?”

“Yep. I love Spongebob.”

“Well, your dad helps make those commericials.”

“For toys?”

“Sometimes.” Debbie comes up and asks us if we want D-E-S-S-E-R-T, and I tell her that we are waiting for Brian. She gets Gus some more milk.

“Mr. Justin, what’s a blow job?” It’s a good thing Debbie had returned with the milk when he asked me that, or I would have fallen out of the booth.

“This one’s all yours Sunshine.” She saunters off. Thanks a fucking lot, Debbie.

“Why are you asking me that?” I gulp down a lot of water and wave to Debbie to bring me some more.

“That’s Daddy’s job. Daddy has a blow job.” He looks completely sure of himself and hell bent on convincing me. A lot more water would be really nice right now.

“Who told you that?”

“Mommy.”

“Mommy Lindsay or Mommy Mel?”

“Mommy Mel.” Oh shit. Okay. I’m talking to a four-year-old, and they don’t always get everything right, right?

“What did she say?”

“Mommy said Daddy is busy. He has a busy job. Mommy Mel said blow jobs.”

“Where were you?”

“In bed under the covers.” Which is exactly where I wish I was right now, where I should have stayed. I should let Brian handle this, but that would probably involve injury or death. Maybe I can fix this.

“I think what you heard was a fight. Your daddy’s job is at Kinnetik—here, give me that pad of paper.” He hands me the pad of paper, and I pick up a crayon off the table. I draw a quick sketch of Kinnetik and a quick picture of his bedroom.

“Okay, Gus. Look at this. Actually, your dad has two jobs. One is making commercials at Kinnetik. Right here.” I show him on the page where I drew Kinnetik, and I draw a funny figure of Brian standing inside his office with a television. Gus laughs. He liked that a lot. He loves running around Brian’s huge office. “And his second job is over here, taking care of you.” I fill in Gus’ room. “This is your dad, sitting on your bed, reading you a story at bedtime. What story is it?”

“It’s Green Eggs and Ham.”

“That’s a great story. I love that book. So, those are your dad’s two jobs. Commericals and you. Those two jobs keep him pretty busy. Here, you can keep this picture.” I hand him back the pad of paper.

“Put your name on it Mr. Justin.” Oops, I forgot.

I sign it “Mr. Justin.” It’s the only work of art I’ve ever signed that way. It feels like the most important thing I’ve ever drawn.

I explain to Gus that I’m going away for awhile to work in the movies, and that I’m really going to miss him. I think he thinks I’m going to live in a movie theater. I’m not sure.

“You can call me on the phone though, and you can still draw me pictures. Your mommy or daddy can mail them to me if you want.”

“Okay. I’ll draw you a picture of a movie.”

“That would be great.”

“And then I’ll put in it an emelope.”

“And I’ll send you a picture back—of anything you want.”

He starts asking me if I will be in the movies every night, when Debbie’s voice rocks the entire diner.

“HOLY FREAKING SHIT!!!!!!” The sound of crashing cups and plates and possibly a fainting drag queen brings Gus to his feet on his side of the booth.

The guy behind sitting behind us yells, “What thefuck was that?” I shoot him a dirty look.

“Yeah, Mr. Justin, what the fuck was that?” Gus echoes. My job is never done.

“Come with me Gus.” I take his little hand and walk to the entrance of the kitchen. It’s what I figured. There’s a mouse. Debbie is on a chair still screaming orders to everyone, which is pointless because everyone who is working right now is just as freaked as she is. She sees me in the doorway.

“Thank god Sunshine. Please get it. It’s right over here. I know it is.” I am the official rodent catcher at the Liberty Diner, whether it’s my shift or not. Who’s gonna do this when I’m gone?

“Will somebody get me a box, a plate, and some peanut butter, please?” I ask. Gus clings to my pants. Kiki returns with my stuff and I set up my makeshift trap beside the refrigerator. “He’ll come out in a second.”

“Yeah, he’ll come out in a second everybody.” Gus is now my partner in crime. I feel so useful tonight.

As soon as I see him venture out, I motion for Gus to be still. He goes for my trap, and I capture him in the box.

“Come on Gus. We’re gonna go take him outside and let him go.” He follows me out back to the dumpster area.

“Can I let him out?”

“Sure.” I place the box on the ground, and he opens the flap. The mouse scurries away into the darkness.

“Bye, bye mouse.”

“Good job, Gus.” We wave good-bye to the mouse and turn around to go back inside.

“Hello kitty cat.”

“What?”

“Look Mr. Justin, kitty cats.” Our fast mouse perked up three small kittens curled up on a piece of cardboard by the dumpster—one dark gray one and two that look more orange and white. Tabbies, I think.

“Wow. They are really tiny and cute, aren’t they?” I look around a little to see if I can see any others or their mother or anything. No such luck.

“I want to pet one Mr. Justin.” So do I. They’re adorable, but they’ve noticed us and are starting to get restless and will probably run any second now.

“Let me see if I can get them in the box. Here, hold the box still.” The two orange and white tabbies are easy to grab, but the darker one tries to make a run for it. I go after it and manage to get it, such bright green eyes. I hold it so Gus can pet it.

“Be very, very gentle.” He is. His smile could light up this back lot.

“Can I have it?” I knew that was coming.

“I don’t know Gus. That’s up to your mommy. Let me call her and see what she says.” I explain the situation to Lindsay and see what her thoughts are. She is surprisingly cool with the whole thing, saying that it might help Gus feel comfortable in the new place. I figure we’ll just take the others to a shelter. Brian is so going to kill me.

“Gus, your mom said that you can bring one of them home, but you have to help take care of it. You have to feed it, give it water, play with it—“

“Make it go night night.”

“Right. And you and your mommy have to take it to the doctor tomorrow to be sure it’s not sick, and so it can get it’s shots. If the doctor says the kitten’s okay, then you can keep it.”

“Shots?”

“Yep. Just like when you go to the doctor. Which one do you want?” He chooses the dark gray one, which upon closer inspection I think is a girl. Wise choice, boys can be a nightmare. “Do you want to give her a name?”

“Twinkerbelle!”

“That’s a very good name because her eyes are sotwinkle-ly.” He giggles.

“Let’s call your dad and tell him to hurry up and get over here.”

“Yeah, Dad, hurry up!”

I’m pretty sure Gus has totally forgotten about the blow job thing now.

***************************************************************************************************************

BRIAN'S POV

The last of my many errands today lands me right where this saga started a little less than twenty-four hours ago. I stop at the store to pay Michael a visit.

Hunter appears to be in charge. I’m not sure if that’s good or bad.

“Hey dude! Buy something from me so I can practice with this register.”

“No can do, shop keep. I’m in a bit of a hurry. I trust Michael didn’t leave you alone with all the money?”

“Nah, he’s in the back.”

I walk in and spy Michael unpacking a new shipment—visions of sugarplums no doubt doing a jig in his head.

“Hey Mikey.”

“Hey! What are you doing here—looking all scruffy, no less? You okay?”

“Yeah, I’m okay.” I sit down on a stool in his backroom, relieved to just be here, just me and him.

“I’ve got a bone to pick with you, Brian Kinney.”

“Oh yeah-what? Justin coming over and bitching you out last night?”

“No-that was a huge misunderstanding. We’re fine. I’m talking about Mel and Linds splitting up—letting me find out like that.”

“Oh, that.”

“Yeah, that. You and I have a responsibility as fathers to Jenny and Gus—that’s all I’m going to say about that. But that’s not why you’re here—what’s up?”

“Jennifer’s going to have everyone over to her house Sunday night for dinner and you and your clan are invited—your mom and Carl, Mel and Jenny too. Around six. Invite Rodney too, if you want.”

“Oh wow, okay. That’ll be fun…and sad. I’ll tell my mom to call Jennifer about the food and all.”

“Yeah, I don’t know shit about the food. I’m in charge of the fucking.”

“Naturally.”

“Can I ask you something about Justin?”

“Yeah, but for the record, I told him this morning that I’m not going to be the silent partner in your relationship anymore.” He has stopped going through his shipment.

Silent Partner? “That’s not what I want to ask you about. Does he complain about anything when you guys are working together on the comic?”

“Besides you?”

“Yeah, besides me. Anything physical, about his hand. That he’s having trouble with anything.”

“Not really. Sometimes it takes him longer than usual to finish things, but he’s an artist, and that’s the way artists are. I’m not usually with him when he draws, you know. You spend more time with him than I do. Why?”

“No reason. I was just wondering. Look, I’ll see you Sunday night.” I hug him as I get up to leave.

“We’ll all be there.”

I nod to Hunter on the way out the door.

“See ya dude!” Send his ass to California.

*******************************************************************************************************************

I am almost at the diner before I realize that Emmett never called me. I don’t even have his number on me. I call Ted; he picks up immediately.

“Greetings mysterious one.”

“You didn’t tell him to call me.”

“Yes, I did. He just walked in the door, and he’s reading your list as we speak.” I can hear Emmett reading it aloud.

“Well?”

“Hang on a second. He just did a cartwheel and came in his pants. ‘Bout what I expected. Em, the Great One would like a word with you.” He hands Em the phone.

“Hello, hello.”

“Don’t do cartwheels in my place of business. You’ll break something.”

“Judging by what I just read, the only thing getting broken this weekend is your itty bitty heart.”

Fine, bitch. “Do you have any questions about what’s on the list? I have to get to the diner.”

“Okay, let me see, let me see.” I pinch the bridge of my nose. Maybe Emmett wasn’t the right person for this. “Okay, number one looks fine. You sure you want me to pick that out?”

“Yeah, just make it simple and tasteful, I guess.”

“Okay, number two is the reason I did the cartwheel in the first place.” He laughs and I can hear Theodore.

”Tell him you didn’t really do a cartwheel. You can’t even do a cartwheel," Ted laments in the background.

”The fuck I can’t. I was one of five junior varsity alternate, runner-up, off-season football cheerleaders in Hazelhurst.”

"You were not."

“Can you bitches argue about this later, please?!” Jesus, I have got to get to the diner.

“Okay, calm down, Prince Charming. Number two and number three: This Paul guy will help us with this?”

“Yes. I talked to him.”

“About the one for tomorrow night?”

“Yes. The rest I’m not worried about.”

“Okay, but please let me help with the rest too. I can do it.”

“I’ll think about it.”

“Thank you, thank you. I promise I won’t do anymore cartwheels in your office if you let me help with number three.”

“I’m not saying “yes” yet, Emmett.”

“I know, I know. Number four is no problem. You were pretty detailed. And of course, Number five is the real reason we’re doing this anyway!”

“Yeah, I figured that would sweeten the deal.”

“I can’t wait! This is going to be fun!”

“I know. I really wanted to do it, but I just don’t have time.”

“Well, you need to be with him. We’re so proud of him. Our little Justin going to Hollywood! Who would’ve ever thought that Brian Kinney would pick up a twinkie, fuck him, fall in love with him, and then get to watch him become a bigger success than he could ever hope to be? Sometimes things just work out right, you know?”

“Do you really expect me to respond to that?”

“Oh honey, this piece of paper in my hand is all the response I need. Now go find your sweet little blond boy and fuck the shit out of him. Teddy and I will see you tomorrow at 2:00 pm sharp.”

Why do I feel like I just got my ass rammed by Liberty Avenue’s biggest bottom?

**********************************************************************************************************************

“How much longer ‘til you get here?” Justin is badgering me on the phone. I am anxious to see Gus. It’s been over a week.

“I’m here.” I pull up outside of the diner.

“Oh good. Go inside. Find Debbie and do what she says. Oh, and Gus wants to talk to you.”

He does?

“Daddy?”

“Hey Sonny Boy.” I can hear Justin telling Gus to tell me that he loves me.

“I love you, Daddy.”

“I love you too.” Justin gets back on the phone.

“We’ll see you in a minute.”

That’s twice today that he’s hung up on me. He is so gonna get it.

I walk into the diner and am immediately greeted by Debbie who is serving up equal portions of turkey meatloaf and innuendo, too bad I don’t feel like either. She is wearing a t-shirt that I’ve never seen before:

Grandmas do it with Affection

My chest collides with her gaudy hand. I think I count six bracelets today. “Hold it right there tall, dark, and horny. I gotta give you something.” She places her tray on the booth where I know Justin and Gus have been sitting because, well, I know my boys.

I sit down and finish Gus’ french fries which are unmistakable. They are the ones drowning in ketchup. I drink the rest of Justin’s water. Justin and Gus have so much in common: they both eat french fries like they are going out of style, they both love a good story, and they both took really long naps today. Debbie gives up.

“Oh, fuck it. Your kid is out back. He drew you a picture, and I lost it. The note said, ‘Don’t tell him no’ or something.”

“Um, thanks Debbie. Can I get a turkey sandwich?” Doesn’t anyone care about my needs? I head out back. There better not be another dead body out here.

“Daddy!!!” Gus runs up to me and jumps in my arms, our heads almost collide together. His hands frame my face. “You’re scratchy Daddy.” He rubs my stubble. Matching black leather jackets. We look like twins. How very Kinney-ian.

I spy Justin bent down over a cardboard box. Why do I feel like this can’t be good? I focus back on Gus who is squeezing my face and demanding my attention.

“Daddy? Daddy! I found a baby cat, a baby kitten, and Mommy said I can keep it!”

Oh shit. I carry him toward Justin and the box, his excited body jumping in my arms. Justin stands up and gives me a “don’t kill me” smile and then kisses me, and I almost forget that I'm still holding Gus.

“No! I kiss Mr. Justin!” He leans over and kisses Justin on the cheek. I’ve never seen him do that before, react to me kissing Justin or Justin kissing me, or maybe I’ve just never paid attention.

“Gus has become a little bossy, Mr. Brian.” Justin gives me his flirty smile at me as I put Gus down.

“Come here Gus, you need to zip up your jacket. It’s cold out here.” Justin tells me he’s sorry. Gus drags me to the box and opens the lid.

“Look at the kitties, Daddy! This one is mine.” He starts to pick it up, and Justin shows him the correct way to do it. He cuddles the kitten in his arms and sways back and forth.

“Look Mr. Brian, he’s a natural.”

“Stop calling me that.”

“I’ve put up with it all night. You get used to it after a while.”

I point out to Justin that there are three kittens in that box and that there is no way in hell that Lindsay agreed to that, and he tells me that our next stop is PetSmart to get the bare necessities.

“They have an adoption center there. They'll take the other two. I called and checked. I’m not going to leave them out here to freeze.”

“Of course you’re not. Well, let’s get a move on. Gus, put the cat back in the box.”

“Her name is Twinkerbelle.”

“Okay, put Twink back in the box. We have to go get her some food.” And a box to shit in. I hope Lindsay thought this through. “Justin, I hope you realize that when Lindsay goes out of town or something, that I am not watching that cat at my loft. Having a kid there is one thing, but not a cat.”

“Don’t be an asshole.” He whispers the last word to me for Gus’ benefit.

I pay for my turkey sandwich, and we are off. PetSmart stinks worse than Babylon at 5:00 am, and I had no idea that people are actually allowed to bring their dogs in there, and that sometimes these dogs actually piss right in the middle of the aisle and that no one comes by to clean it up right away. That’s really nice. Gus tries to stand up in the cart three times and on the last time I catch him before he hits his head on a shelf.

“Gus, you can either sit in the cart and hold Twink, or you can walk and I will hold Twink. Which do you want?”

“Hold Twink.”

“Okay, then it’s back in the cart.” I sit him in the back this time, which seems to make him happier because he can look at everything Justin is putting in the cart.

I watch Justin as he leads us all over the store, reading ingredients, deciding what he wants, being Mr. Methodical. He knows exactly what he’s doing. Every time he puts something in the cart, he tells Gus what it is and what it’s for.

“Okay Gus, Twink needs two bowls. One for food and one for water. What colors do you want?”

“Ummm. Blue Mr. Justin. Blue and red.”

“Okay, here you go. Blue and red."

My son worships at the altar of Mr. Justin. I start to worry that he loves him more than I do.

Gus and I have a long, drawn out discussion over the difference between dog toys and cat toys. I can’t make him understand that some giant, red, rubber ball he wants was a dog toy, not a cat toy. I finally just tell him no. He screams. Goddamn end caps.

“What’s wrong, Brian?” Justin turns around and comes back to the cart to see what all of the hoopla is about.

“I’m trying to explain to him that these are dog toys, not cat toys, and he doesn’t want to believe me. So now he’s mad.” His little face is contorting for the benefit of everyone that walks by. They’re all thinking: “cute kitten, cute kids, evil Daddy.”

“Gus.” Justin leans over the cart, holding the offending red ball in his hand. “This toy is bigger than Twink. A kitten likes toys that are smaller. Let’s go pick out a smaller toy. We can probably find a red one. Okay?”

He stops crying. Of course.

“Here Daddy.” He hands me the kitten—at least I’m good for something. I can hold pussy and push a cart. What-the-fuck-ever. I watch the two of them walk down the aisle toward the cat toys. For some reason, it makes me feel less insignificant to tell Justin:

“He can pick three Justin. Just three.”

Gus picks out his three toys, which Justin completely scams me on because they are three bags of toys, so now this kitten has like forty-seven toys. I do my part too, though, and throw in some catnip because drugs don’t count as toys.

Gus usually sleeps in the car, but not tonight. Justin points that out to me almost immediately, after he teases me about listening to Elvis in the car.

“Brian, look in your mirror. Look at Gus.”

I glance back at him, and he is dancing, hard core, in his little leather jacket, completely oblivious to the two of us. He really did have a good time tonight.

“He dances better than you Brian. He must get that from Lindsay.” I flip him off.

“He’s just happy. Hey, what’re you doing back there Sonny Boy?”

He looks up at me and gives me an honest, ‘four-year-old, I’ve been in Preschool too long answer’: “I’m breaking it down, Daddy.”

Justin's dancing in the front seat now. Dancing and laughing. “I was afraid he was going to say “shake it like a Polaroid picture.”

“He better not say that.” The songs ends, and Gus is kicking the back of Justin’s seat.

“Play it again, Daddy. Again!”

“No, that’s enough. We’re almost home.” Lindsay’s new place is right around the corner.

“Oh, play it again for him Brian. It’ll only be the twenty-fifth time you’ve listened to it today.”

I mouth “Fuck you” to him and start the track over.

A little less conversation, a little more action please

It’s my car. I’m the King. I can do what I want.

********************************************************************************************************************

Heaven help me, I didn’t see the devil in your eyes.

“If I had known that being in a pet store would make you act like such a horny little puppy, Sunshine, I’d have done it a long time ago.”

“Don’t be such a twat when I’m showing you how much I love you.”

My words always come back to fuck me in the ass.

“Where were you all day anyway?” he asks me, in between the kisses and the groping that have landed us on the bed, albeit fully clothed.

“I had to take care of a few last minute things with Ted. End of month stuff. Shit like that.”

His hands stop roaming under my shirt for a minute, and he looks at me.

“You’re lying.”

“I am?”

“Yep. You are. Your body gets tense when you’re lying. I can feel it. That’s the thing about you. Your body speaks way louder than your words.”

“And you’re a good listener.” I feel his warm hands slide under my back and cradle my shoulders. I love it when he lies on top of me like this.

“It’s a job requirement with you, and an occupational hazard.”

“That’s me—the double-edged sword.”

He rakes his fingers through my hair as I close my eyes. I feel him straddle me and start unbuttoning my shirt. “I want to make you feel good.”

“Mission accomplished.”

“No, I mean really good. I want you to relax. Just let me spoil you.” He unbuttons the rest of my shirt and frees me of it, and I do the same for him, yanking his long sleeve gray t-shirt over his head. I try to pull him down to me to kiss him, but he won’t let me. I prop my arms behind my head.

I bend my knees, scratching one foot on another, as he climbs out of bed and removes the rest of his clothes. I watch him in silence, realizing that I know every move he’s going to make before he makes it. He comes back to me, blond and bare, and lies on top of me again. I give in to how tired I am and how nice it feels just to have him warm and sweet and all over me like this.

I tell him that I am already spoiled rotten. He tells me he’ll be the judge of that.

He smiles at me and I smile back as his fingers undo my jeans. I close my eyes as I feel him tuck his fingers into my underwear and pull my jeans far, far away.

His body lies on mine again, and he kisses me like I'm standing alone under a streetlight, and he’s picking me tonight. His hands slide under my pillow and curl inside of mine.

I wrap my legs over his as his lips tickle my face and squeeze him tightly. His mouth moves behind my ear and down my neck and my hands leave his to hold him and to keep this going.

“I fucking love that.”

“I know.”

I roll over when he asks me to and his arms stretch mine out to either side of me. He tells me to close my eyes and to go to sleep if I want to. I don’t think I want to.

He's gone for a second, but I don’t move or say anything. No need. I feel warm pressure on my hips when he returns to me and straddles me again. I hear him rubbing his hands together.

I smell California.

“What’s that?”

“Just be quiet.”

He rubs the smell of coconuts and summer down my arms, one at a time, all the way down to my fingertips, the pressure increasing with each pass.

Fuck, this feels good.

The knots in my shoulders dissolve underneath his hands, and he's careful with my recently mended one, sparing me unnecessary agony. Something he's doing lengthens my neck.

I groan when he re-applies and starts on my back. I turn my head the other way, toward the window. I feel him shift farther down my body, sitting on my legs. I close my eyes again and think about waves crashing-one after the other. The heat kicks on. It sounds like the ocean.

He presses the heels of his hands into my back and forces every bit of distress in my body up and out through his fingertips like I don’t even own it anymore. I let out a deep breath I didn’t know I was holding.

His hands are slippery again when they massage my waist, and I realize that my cock has been soaking the sheets this entire time. I never knew I held so much tension in my ass. Not anymore. He meanders back up my body, sliding his arms along mine, whispering in my ear.

“How do you feel?”

“A-mazing.” He nuzzles his face against mine. He loves it when I don’t shave.

“Now do you want to tell me where you were all day?” Just a quiet, quiet question.

“Um, I already told you.” Just a quiet, quiet answer.

“Right.” His seductive whisper wafts through my ear, giving me chills. “Then I guess we’re not done, are we?” A roaring wave chases me and pummels me into the sand. I never had a chance.

He kisses me on the cheek and lets his lips trail down the rest of my body. I look up and I can see the beach, but this is not where I was, not where I started from. I don’t know which way gets me back to my blanket. The sun beats down on me.

His lips surf down the crevice of my ass, and I don’t hear waves crashing or children playing or lifeguards blowing their whistles anymore. I don’t hear anything.

“Mmmmmm.”

I feel everything.

The splash of his tongue as it coats me makes me gasp. I shift underneath him.

“Justin.” I dig my fingers in the hot sand.

The tide is changing.

I am on my knees, my arms underneath me again. He moans as he licks and kisses my hole. I pray. That he doesn’t touch my cock. That I don’t come on the spot. That he hasn’t forgotten that. Surely he hasn’t forgotten that.

His tongue invades me. I am pulled out to sea. I can’t for the life of me remember how to swim.

“Oh god. Oh fuck.” His hand snakes between my legs, his palm covering the head of my glazed dick. I push it away. “No.” He flattens his hand on my stomach, spreading my dampness along the way. He covers my hole with his warm tongue and cups my balls. I feel him rise up. I call his name again--by accident.

I stare at my hands.

Lube shouldn’t be so cold on such a hot day. The initial pinch pulls me under. I hold my breath for as long as I can.

It’ll heat up.

He's gentle with me for now, as only he is allowed to be. He's the only lifeguard on duty at my beach. My head emerges from the water for a second.

He slides another slippery finger inside me, and when I tell him that it really hurts, he teaches me to tread water.

He continues to lube me, to push me, and to watch me negotiate this. He tells me I'm ready.

He tells me to remember to breathe, that he’ll go slow.

I tell him it won’t matter.

Something dark swims underneath me.

Here it comes.

I curse like a mother fucker on the first push, biting my lip, and try to focus on him, on doing this for him. He tells me that I'm still holding my breath.

I can’t stay afloat any longer.

He tells me how good this feels for him, how beautiful I am, how being inside of me makes him crazy.

I tell him that the sound of his voice drives me nuts, that I want him—that I want him to fuck me.

God, I want him to fuck me.

I have no idea why he ever bottoms at all.

He moves inside me. I catch my breath. His hands are somewhe--

“Ah. Oh fuck Justin. What the fuck.”

He tells me that he loves to be inside my extremely……..tight……….ass.

I tell him that’s what I meant by moving in.

He laughs and tells me not to be a smart ass. I tell him to fuck me harder.

Now.

I dive back under the water, as deep as I can go.

He slams me against the ocean floor, ignoring my thrashing underneath him. I feel everything tighten, rise, and rush to get to the surface. Fuck. I’m going to drown.

I try to move or shift or something so he can’t do this, so he can’t fuck that same spot over and over, but he’s onto me. He reclaims me hard and fast and surrounds my cock with his warm, wet hand.

“Ah fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.”

He tells me that he loves me, that he won’t be gone for long…

that California isn’t that far away.

I tell him that he’s full of shit.

He pulls all the way out and crashes back into me, ending everything for both of us.

I come all over myself, washed up on some deserted island all alone.

Goddamn sunshine. I'm burnt to a crisp.

I’m never going to lie to him again.