Chapter 28 - The PC Artist.

“Hey, Bri! Wait up,” Ted yelled from halfway down the block as Brian and Justin were nearing the door to the Diner.

“Good Morning, Theodore. To what do I owe the pleasure of being bellowed at by you so early in the day?” Brian asked as soon as the accountant trotted up to them.

“Morning, Bri. Hey, Justin,” Ted panted as he tried to catch his breath. “I’m glad I caught you. I got an email from the bank late yesterday that I hadn’t seen before we went out. It looks like the refi of the loft is all ready to go. You just have to stop in and sign all the paperwork tomorrow afternoon. I set up an appointment for you at 4:00 pm. Hope that’s okay. If not, you can call Tim at the bank and reschedule.”

Brian clapped Ted on the shoulder approvingly. “Great! I’ll be glad to get all of this cleared up so it’s not looming over my head any longer,” Brian said, smiling at Justin to reassure the boy.

“Well, the refinance money, along with what you’ve already got in savings, will get you about three-fourths of the way there. You’ll still have to come up with quite a chunk of change to make the full bid price, Bri,” Ted warned.

“That should be enough, Theodore. With the bonuses I’m owed for this quarter, it’ll be fine. I just have to make sure that Gardner pays me what he owes me sooner rather than later, the fucking miser.” Brian reached out and pulled open the door to the Diner, holding it for the other two men before following them inside. “But I’m not going to think about that today. Today, we’re just going to have brunch and then go see a man about some art. Right, Sunshine?”

Justin smiled shyly and nodded as he followed Brian to the booth where Michael, David and Emmett were already waiting for them. Michael, as expected, hopped up like an eager puppy to hug Brian hello, leaving David scowling at the scene from his corner of the booth. But the chiropractor’s unhappy glare was wiped away by the time the ritual kissing and hugging was finished and Michael resumed his seat. Brian and Justin then slid onto the opposite bench, next to Emmett. Ted squished in beside Michael. It was a tight fit, but the Diner was packed so the gang didn't have much choice. Brian didn't mind too much, though, since Justin didn't take up lots of room. The boy was still hella skinny. Brian made a mental note to step up his Twink & Houseplant feeding efforts.

“I’m glad you showed up this morning, Brian. I was worried about the way you bolted out of the club last night. Everything okay?” Mikey pried.

“Everything’s fine, Mikey,” Brian assured his friend. “I just wanted to get ‘Slugger’ here out of there before he beat up another poor muscle queen,” Brian teased his PC with a joking squeeze to the boy’s shoulders. “I was afraid he’d pick a fight with somebody who was actually going to hit back. He sorta took Mitch by surprise, but that’s not to say some other brute might not take exception to getting his ass handed to him by an innocent-looking blond twink.”

The boys all laughed and teased Justin a little for his backroom antics. It was all in good fun, though, and Justin seemed to take it without any rancor. If anything, the guys seemed rather impressed that the kid had taken out a guy at least twice his size in one fell blow. Brian simply laughed off the whole event and then complemented Justin’s performance, saying it was much better than the blow job he’d been receiving before and he was glad for the change up.

The rest of brunch was a calm affair. Much of the usual - the usual chatter and gossip, the usual food, the usual teasing from Debbie and the usual scenery. Brian liked feeling that things were getting back to the usual. Even Justin seemed to be fitting into what qualified as the usual. That felt right to Brian.

The only thing that didn’t quite feel like the usual, was the way that Michael’s new boyfriend, David, kept inserting his judgmental comments into the conversation. Brian couldn’t see what Michael saw in the guy. Mr. ‘I’ve Already Done That And I’m So Much Better Than You Ever Could Be’ seemed like a self-righteous and judgemental ass.

On top of everything else, David seemed to be ogling Justin a bit more frequently than was really necessary - not a move calculated to ease Brian’s burgeoning dislike of the man. Justin had apparently noticed David’s stares as well. As a result, the boy had become increasingly more subdued as the meal progressed, leaning into Brian’s side more heavily every time the reprobate leered his way. Granted, David always looked away as soon as he discovered Brian had intercepted one of his glares, but still . . . The old lech needed to keep his eyes on his own boyfriend.

Because of this unwanted attention, Brian decided to get Justin out of there sooner rather than later. The gang’s usual lengthy, lazy Sunday Brunch, be damned. He wasn’t going to sit around with Mr. Salacious Stare any longer than he absolutely had to. Brian had had enough of David and was more than ready to leave. The man turned him off his food. The little PC was barely picking at his food by that point as well, which was proof to Brian that it was definitely time to go. He slurped down the last of his third cup of coffee, threw some money on the table to pay for their food and slid himself and his charge out of the booth. Justin scooted after Brian, seemingly just as glad to be out of there.

Besides, they had much more pleasurable errands on their agenda for the day, and Brian was probably almost as eager as Justin to get on to the next item on the list. They said their goodbyes and were out of the Diner in record time. Justin perked up as soon as they reached the Jeep and he spied the canvases and other items in the back once again. Brian had to smile just watching the impatient, wishful look on the boy’s face.

Ten minutes later they were pulling up outside the Bloom Gallery. Brian had called Sidney the day before and arranged for the man to meet them. Bloom had seemed thrilled to hear that Brian’s PC had already produced enough work for the Gallery owner to look at. And the man certainly looked avidly enthusiastic when they stopped the Jeep and found Sidney already jogging down the sidewalk in their direction before they’d even got out.

“Brian! Perfect timing! I just arrived myself,” Sidney greeted his favorite Ad Exec as soon as Brian was out of the car. “I hope you brought me something good.”

Brian ignored the solicitous welcome until he’d opened the door for his passenger. “Justin, you remember Sidney Bloom, right?” Brian intentionally focused on the boy first, hoping to direct Bloom’s attention to the person he should be toadying to and away from Brian himself. “Sidney, I don’t think you were ever actually introduced. This is Justin.”

“Nice to officially meet you, Justin,” the gallery owner held out his hand and Justin, after peeking at Brian for permission, accepted it dubiously. “I hope Brian told you how delighted I was with the logos and other promotional materials you designed for the gallery. When he told me you were the artist I was floored. You’re so young to have such talent. I just can’t wait to see what else you’ve brought me today.” Sidney was already trying to peek in the windows of the car to get a better glimpse of what was waiting within. “Why don’t we take whatever you’ve got inside, huh?”

Brian helped the young artist gather together the loosely wrapped canvases and the large portfolio bag Brian had borrowed from his office in order to get the rest of the work there. Sidney gallantly ushered them into the gallery and straight back to his own office, bypassing the gallery manager and staff who looked on curiously at the group. As soon as they were inside the office, though, the man greedily grabbed up the first canvas he could reach and tore the paper wrapping off.

Brian and Justin stood off to the side, neither saying anything, as they watched the art dealer’s reactions. Bloom stared at that first painting for several long minutes without saying one word. Then he let out one vague ‘Hmmm’ before setting that canvas on a chair and grabbing up the next. And then the last one. Then he stared at the trio of paintings for at least another five minutes.

The longer Bloom went without saying anything, the more intimidated Justin became. By the time the dealer had all three pictures unwrapped, Justin was shifting back and forth on his feet with his hands nervously jittering at his pants leg. Brian calmly reached down and grabbed one of the shaky hands in his own, lacing his fingers through the boy’s and holding on tightly. It seemed to help quite a lot, since the PC almost instantly stopped fidgeting.

“Is there more?” Bloom asked finally, pointing to the portfolio bag that was still unopened.

“Yeah. There’s more. But those are the only three paintings. The rest are drawings, watercolors and pastels,” Brian answered for the artist, giving the boy a bit of a shove towards the waiting bag. “Go on, Justin. Show him the rest.”

The anxious little PC followed directions, picking up the portfolio from the floor by his feet, carrying it over to Bloom’s desk, unzipping it and pulling out the stack of other creations, all while Sidney hovered over his shoulder. Justin barely had enough time to step out of the way before Bloom snagged the pages out of the boy’s hands and began to rifle through them. There were a few more ‘Hmm’s but not much else for another five minutes or so. Finally, Bloom sighed, put down the last of the drawings and brought his hands together, palm to palm as if he was about to pray, before turning around to address Justin and Brian.

“They’re dark. Very dark. Very emotional,” Bloom pronounced, causing Justin’s shoulders to slump with dejection. Then Bloom continued, a smile blooming on his usually saturnine face, “which is perfect - it’s exactly what one would expect from an artist who’s also a PC.”

“Perfect? Meaning you like them? Or perfectly dreadful and nobody will ever want to buy anything that ‘dark’,” Brian questioned, almost as on edge as the twitchy PC by his side.

“Perfect, as in, perfect . . . I love them!” Bloom enthused, clapping his hands over Justin’s and shaking them until the boy staggered to stay upright. “People are going to LOVE these, Justin! They’re going to be falling over themselves to buy these. Your work is exquisite, my boy. Simply amazing. Nobody’s going to believe that someone so young has this much talent. NOBODY! And add to that you being a Personal Companion - the only PC that I’ve ever heard of that’s an artist - and they will be buying your work up faster than you can create it.”

As Bloom’s words sank in, Justin’s face slowly lost its defeated look, allowing a tentative but sunshiny smile to take over. The boy still didn’t look like he completely believed it, though. Brian could see that the smile didn’t quite reach his eyes - the blue eyes still showed doubt. Considering Justin’s background, it was quite possible they always would. But Brian would do all he could to help the boy become a believer. Or, at least, a believer in himself and his art.

“So, you’re saying you’ll hang some of these?” Brian asked to clarify matters.

“Of course I’ll be hanging these,” Bloom insisted avidly. “We’ll start with five or so - just enough to give my patrons a tease - and then hang more as they’re sold. I’m going to need a lot more soon, Justin. Especially the oils. Those are superb. Unless I’m completely wrong, those should go fast. They’ll also sell for a lot more.”

Brian could see the man’s mental calculator tallying up his own percentages, which was actually a good sign as far as Brian was concerned. Bloom was first and foremost a businessman and he wouldn’t be blowing this much smoke up their asses if he didn’t think he could make a buck or two off Justin’s work. If Bloom was willing to take a chance on Justin, the little artist must have something going for him.

Twenty minutes later, all the paperwork was signed. The Bloom Gallery would get twenty percent of all sales but agreed to front the costs of any promotions and framing. Sidney had already called the gallery manager in and sent her off with stacks of artwork and instructions on how to frame it all. Bloom was even talking about spotlighting Justin’s work at their next First Thursday event. The way he was talking, Justin sounded like the next Warhol. Brian was just happy that somebody would see the kid’s amazing work and hoped it would help with the boy’s almost nonexistent self esteem. Once all the arrangements were made, Bloom sent Justin off with orders to paint and draw and color as much as he possibly could and bring it all back to the gallery the following week. Then he scampered off to supervise the framing.

Brian hadn’t missed the fact that Justin still hadn’t said one word to Bloom about the reception his art had received. “So, Sunshine, it looks like we have some celebrating to do. Would you like me to take you out for a fabulous dinner tonight?” Brian offered as they walked together towards the waiting jeep. Justin shook his head in the negative. “No? Why not? You just got a major gallery to agree to show your artwork, Sunshine. You deserve to celebrate.” Justin smiled and nodded but still didn’t meet Brian’s gaze. Brian had to stop, turn the boy to face him and physically lift the youth’s chin until their eyes connected. “Tell me, Justin. What DO you want to do?”

“I . . . I want to paint some more,” Justin spoke hesitantly, his voice so quiet that it was difficult to hear him over the sounds of the nearby traffic. “Mr. Bloom said I needed to get him more paintings and drawings as soon as possible . . .” The boy looked down even then, as if embarrassed by his own temerity in speaking up and suggesting something other than what his Master had proposed.

“I don’t think he meant you had to go paint them all immediately, Justin,” Brian chuckled and shook his head. “But . . . if that’s what you want to do, then we better go get you some more supplies, I guess.” That suggestion earned him a brilliant Sunshine smile and direct eye contact for another minute. “Come on, then. We’ll go to the art supply store on the way home.”

An hour later, and several hundred dollars poorer, they were back in the car and on the road to to the loft. The back seat was full of new painting supplies. There were eight new canvases of various sizes, a bag full of oil paints, another sheaf of large watercolor paper, several new sketchbooks and a few other artsy accoutrements whose function Brian didn’t understand, but that Justin seemed to think were essential. Brian had wanted to get even more - especially more canvases - but Justin had been so worried about the cost of everything, he’d put back much of what Brian had tried to put in their cart. Brian had attempted to argue the point, explaining that he considered it an investment and that you couldn’t make money without spending money, but he could see how much more anxious it made the boy and eventually just gave up. If the kid went through all that stuff before the week was out, he’d just pick up more supplies when Justin wasn’t around to worry.

Once they were back at the loft and had all the new stuff piled in Justin’s corner, the boy seemed even more eager to get started on something. He’d immediately put the largest canvas up on the easel and had pulled out his palette before Brian was even done unpacking all the new paints. Brian was delighted to see the spark of excitement in the boy’s eyes as he picked through all the fresh oil tubes. This was probably better therapy for the kid than a hundred hours at Dr. Ruby’s, Brian thought.

Just as he was about to head over to his desk and make himself scarce, Brian felt a tentative touch on his arm. “Thank you, Brian,” the elated artist said in his quiet, self-effacing way. “I . . . I just . . .” The boy struggled to find the words, or maybe to find the courage to voice the words, while Brian waited patiently to hear what it was he so badly wanted to say. “This,” he pointed to the easel and it’s array of supplies, “means so much . . . I can’t explain, but . . . it’s everything . . .”

Brian watched as one solo tear escaped out of the corner of the boy’s right eye and dribbled down his cheek. He reached up and wiped it away with his thumb, his hand lingering on the youth’s soft cheek for a moment before sliding back to rake through the silky blond hair. Justin directed a watery smile up at him, trying to convey all his gratitude even though the words wouldn’t come out. Brian nodded at the brave little PC, accepting the thanks wordlessly, inherently understanding how uncomfortable words sometimes were. And, in lieu of any verbal ‘you’re welcome’, he leaned down and offered his own non-verbal response - a soft, warm, slow kiss on the perfect bubblegum-pink lips - before returning the smile.

“Go on, Sunshine. Go play with your new toys and enjoy yourself,” Brian directed, letting his hand drop from the boy’s hair as he turned to walk off to his own distraction.

Justin grinned at the man’s retreating back for a brief moment before he spun back to his easel and began to lightly sketch out the beginnings of his next painting on the waiting canvas.