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Chapter 33 - All That PC Plot Stuff.

Brian settled into his work after Cynthia departed, trying to plan out his day in his mind. He was glad to know he was actually ahead of his workload for a change. With Justin helping out on the artwork, and being so efficient at it as well, Brian found he could get a lot more done in a shorter time. Which meant he could concentrate on rounding up some new accounts instead of spinning his wheels on old ones. That was good news for his faltering finances.

Just when Brian was getting ready to start in on a new project, though, the intercom line buzzed. “Brian, I’ve got Sidney Bloom on line three for you,” Cynthia’s voice announced. “I asked if it was something I could help him with but he said it was ‘private’. Are you available?”

“Sure. I’ll take it, Cyn,”

Brian picked up the handset and pressed the button to connect the call. “Sidney. Don’t tell me you need more of Justin’s paintings already. He’s good but not that good,” Brian kidded.

“I wish I had that problem, Brian,” Sidney replied with a chuckle. “Actually we only got the pieces hung this morning and, since we just opened a little over an hour ago, we haven’t had that many visitors yet. But give it a day or two. I’ve already called a couple of art collectors I know who like the sort of thing Justin’s doing and they’re both excited to come over and check it out. I should have some news for you on that front by the end of the week. Maybe you and Justin should plan to attend our First Thursday open house as well. That way, anyone interested in the work could meet the artist at the same time. It’s always easier to sell art when you can give the patrons a bit of personal attention, you know.”

“I think we can make that happen, Sidney. Although, you do realize Justin’s not exactly the chatty type, right? I’m not sure he’ll have much to say to your art buyers.” Brian could just see the kid standing there like a shrinking violet, scared to death of the crowds while his admiring fans swarmed him. “Have I mentioned that he’s not really good with crowds either?” he warned.

“I’m sure he’ll do fine, Brian. All I really need Justin to do is show up and look pretty. Which shouldn’t be a problem - hell, I’m not gay and even I find him attractive.” Bloom’s surprised laughter had Brian joining in as well. "Justin won’t even need to say anything as long as he bats his eyelashes at all the rich old women . . . And maybe a few of the men too.”

“Then count us in, Sidney. Justin’s terrific at eyelash batting and long, soulful, blue-eyed looks,” Brian promised. “That’s how he got me, after all, isn’t it?”

“So that’s the secret, huh? And here I thought you were just a diehard do-good crusader.” That comment earned Bloom yet another outburst of laughter from Brian’s end of the call. “That’s not actually why I was calling, though, Brian,” Sidney segued back into serious things. “I figured I’d better give you a head’s up about a rather unpleasant confrontation I had this morning.”

“That sounds ominous . . .”

“Well, I’m not sure what it was all about, to tell you the truth. I hope you do,” Bloom continued. “First thing this morning a long-time patron by the name of Lindsey Peterson came into the gallery. From what she said, I take it you two know each other?”

“You could say that,” Brian answered, worried already just hearing his former friend’s name. “Or, at least, I thought I knew her until recently. So, what kind of shit is she saying about me these days?”

“It wasn’t so much about you, as about your PC,” Sidney explained. “I was showing her Justin’s work and, at first, she acted like she loved it. Which is what I expected. But then, as soon as I told her who the artist was, she went ballistic. It was like she became a completely different person. She was calling Justin all sorts of names and insisting that I take the pictures down. Then, when she saw that I had listed the artist’s name as ‘Justin KINNEY’, she totally lost it. I know that PCs technically don’t have a second name, but it’s not that unusual for people to refer to them by the last name of their owner. Lindsey seemed to think you would object to that, though. That is okay with you, isn’t it, Brian?”

“Fucking Lindsey . . .” Brian sighed, once again confronted by blind bigotry that he couldn’t comprehend let alone combat. “Yes, Sidney, it’s fine with me for you to list the work under ‘Justin Kinney’. Don’t listen to anything Lindsey said to you about me or Justin. She doesn’t speak for me. To tell the truth, I really don’t understand Lindsey or why she’s so hot and bothered about Justin. She’s being a total shit about it though.”

“Yeah, I got that much,” Sidney commiserated. “But hey, she also let slip that congratulations are in order . . . Dad . . . unless I heard wrong too?”

“No, you heard right. I can’t quite wrap my head around it yet myself, but apparently my little swimmers did their job and now I’m the proud father of a gorgeous little boy . . . who I’m not able to see right now because of Lindsey’s unthinking hatred towards my other boy, Justin.” Brian huffed a little breath of annoyance.

“Well, congratulations anyway. I hope you and Lindsey can work things out so you get to see your son, Brian. I got a glimpse of the baby this morning. He’s adorable.”

“Thanks, Sidney.” Brian didn’t want to voice his own belief that the rift with Lindsey was probably permanent or that it didn’t bode well for his likelihood of getting to spend any more time with Gus. “In the meantime, please don’t let Lindsey’s issues cause you to pull Justin’s work. Like I said, she doesn’t speak for me or, hopefully, for most of your patrons. Whatever Lindsey’s problems are, they’re personal, and I really don’t want to see it bleed over onto Justin.”

“No worries, Brian. I don’t intend to pull Justin’s stuff based on Lindsey’s comments. I’d prefer to wait and see what the people who matter say,” Bloom promised. “The reception we get on Thursday will be the real test.”

“Thanks, Sidney. You don't know how much it means that you're willing to give Justin this chance.”

“For what it's worth, I think Justin's going to be a huge hit. I’m really not that worried at all,” Bloom reiterated with confidence. “Anyway, see you on Thursday night, Brian.”

“Thursday it is!”

Brian had barely hung up with Bloom when the intercom buzzed again. “Brian, your friend, Lindsey, is on the phone,” Cynthia announced. “It's the third time she's called in less than fifteen minutes. I told her you were on a call with a client and couldn't be interrupted but she's being a real bitch about it. She said if I didn't put her through immediately, she’d have you fire me. Please tell me I can just hang up and permanently block her number. Please?”

“I wish . . . But, I don’t think it would work. I'd better take the fucking call,” Brian answered with a heavy sigh.

“Damn! You're no fun,” Cynthia sounded seriously crestfallen that she wouldn't be allowed to be as rude to Lindsey as the woman had been to her. “Fine. She's on line two. But next time she calls and acts like this, I'm blocking her without asking your permission.”

Brian chuckled as the unrepentant assistant hung up, however his humor died away quickly when he contemplated the phone call waiting for him. He didn't know what good it would do to try and talk with Lindsey again. The woman had already proven to be completely intransigent. And, after hearing from Bloom about her actions that morning, Brian didn't think she'd be any more open to persuasion than before. But for the sake of his son, he thought he'd best give it one more try.

“Lindsey,” Brian said into the phone as soon as he'd picked up the line.

“Finally! You really need to talk with that snotty bitch you have answering your phones, Brian. She is the rudest person I've ever met,” Lindsey started in on her complaints without any preliminary greeting.

“Cynthia was doing her job - which includes telling personal callers I can't be disturbed when I'm already on the phone with a paying client,” Brian barked back, his resolve to try and remain calm already faltering. “Now, what is so hellfire important that it couldn't wait twenty minutes, huh?”

“Well excuse me for trying to protect you and your good name from getting dragged through the muck! I'm sure that's not as important as kissing some rich client’s ass . . .”

Brian cut her off before Lindsey could get a full head of steam on her ranting. “Okay, first of all, my clients pay me a lot of money and therefore deserve to get as much ass kissing as they want. And, secondly, where the fuck do you get this crap about ‘my good name’? You’ve met my parents. The name ‘Kinney’ has never meant anything other than ‘Ignorant Drunken Mick’. There’s not much good name there to bother with and, whatever it is you’re going on about, couldn’t possibly make it any worse.”

“Very funny, Brian. But I’m being serious here,” Lindsey chastised angrily. “I happened to stop into the Bloom Gallery this morning. Those idiots have put up crap by your little PC whore on their walls and, as if that wasn’t bad enough, they’re listing it under the name ‘Justin Kinney’. I told Bloom to take it down immediately but he wouldn’t listen to me. You have to do something about this immediately, before anyone we know see's it.”

“No.”

“What do you mean, ‘no’?” Lindsey was practically screaming over the phone line now. “You can’t do this, Brian. You’ve had your fun playing the unconventional rebel, or whatever it is you think you're doing by purchasing a PC, but this is going too far. Now you’re flaunting it all over the city? And letting the slutty piece of tail use YOUR name? Don't you care what people are going to think? Don’t you care about me or your son? You know I’ve told people that you’re Gus’ father, right? If you don’t do something about this, they’re going to associate not only you but me with that kind of filth! You may not care about yourself or your reputation, Brian, but I will NOT have you doing this to your son or to me!”

Brian huffed a huge sigh and sank back into his chair in frustration while he thought about how to answer this diatribe. “Lindz . . . I really don’t understand why you're so upset about the gallery displaying some of Justin’s art. Why would that offend you? The pictures are not sexually explicit. There’s nothing inherently offensive about the art at all. And how, exactly, is this going to affect YOU at all?”

“Sidney is touting the fact that the work is done by a PC!” Lindsey shouted back, as if that explained all, but Brian remained silent. “He’s got it listed right there on the placard on the wall. AND he’s let that whore use YOUR name? It’s like he’s throwing the slut and that entire offensive PC lifestyle in the faces of everyone who comes into the gallery. It’s unacceptable!”

Brian pinched the bridge of his nose and groaned quietly. Trying to get through to someone so blindly incensed about something that they couldn’t even think logically was a daunting prospect. Of course, that was the problem with prejudice of any kind - it wasn’t a rational response and the people subject to it generally weren’t open to hearing anything that didn’t already support their own opinions. But he’d never expected to see this reaction in his friend. There had to be some underlying reason for such over the top antipathy. Maybe he could still reach Lindsey if he could figure this out.

“Lindz, I get that you don’t like PCs. You’ve said that over and over. But I still don’t understand why,” Brian said, trying to keep his voice modulated and his tone nonjudgmental. “You grew up with the PC set, right? I would think, even if you didn’t approve of the practice, that you wouldn’t be so shocked just by being around a PC. So, please, explain to me what it is that makes you so set against ANYONE who’s a PC. I want to understand.”

“I don’t want to go into that right now, Brian. Besides, it has nothing to do with this gallery thing. You just need to fix this,” Lindsey insisted.

“I think it has everything to do with this discussion, Lindsey,” Brian pressed adamantly. “You’ve been going on and on about how much you despise Justin but you’ve never even said one single word to the kid. Which tells me that you must have some other reason to hate him and I really want to know what that could possibly be. Because the Justin I know is the sweetest fucking kid I’ve ever met and he doesn’t deserve all the shit you’re saying about him.”

“Well, you WOULD say that, wouldn’t you. I mean, you are fucking him, so of course you think he’s the hottest piece of ass you’ve ever seen and that he can do no wrong,” Lindsey’s voice over the phone line sounded absolutely disgusted. “You’re just like all the rest, aren’t you, Brian? You know, sometimes I have to agree with Mel and her more militant friends about their opinions on men: gay, straight or otherwise, anything with a dick simply can’t be trusted. The males of the species really will do anything their dicks tell them to do, won’t they?”

“Whoa! Back up there, Missy,” Brian yelled back at his friend, his cool totally blown by such a seemingly tangential attack. “How does who I'm fucking or what I do with my dick have any bearing on YOUR prejudice against PCs? You're the one with a problem here, Lindsey, not me.”

“You sound JUST like my FATHER!” howled the woman on the phone, the outburst so vitriolic that it gave Brian pause. “Accusing everyone else of being unreasonable while you just ignore your responsibilities, throw propriety out the window and continue rutting away with your whore! Well, I can tell you one thing, Brian Kinney, I’m not my mother. I won’t sit meekly by and watch without saying a word. She might have been content to do nothing, trying to maintain appearances at the Country Club even while my father ran off with his slutty little PC bitch, set her up in a fabulous townhouse, spent most of his inheritance on her and even sired a bastard on the whore, but I won’t. I will NOT let you make that mistake, Brian!” When a stunned Brian still didn’t respond, Lindsey must have recalled at least some of her self-control because the next words were a little less voluble. “I won’t let you ruin your reputation and waste your money, Brian. I’m your friend and the mother of your child. I care about you too much to let you fall into the same trap. My father didn’t see the mess he’d made of his life until it was too late. His bitch had already used him to set herself and her kid up in style before he discovered she’d had an illicit lover for more than a year, but by then it was too late to do much other than sell her ass off. And my parents’ relationship was never the same afterwards. I won’t let you get taken like that, Brian. I just won’t!”

Brian sank back into his chair and sighed. At least he now had his answer. He’d always known that Lindsey had unresolved Daddy Issues, but this . . . yeah, this. It really was no wonder she had problems with PCs considering her history. But that still didn’t mean she was right with regard to her attitude towards Justin. All it meant was that the woman needed some serious, long-term therapy. It also didn’t mean that Brian was going to change his mind about Justin any time soon.

“I’m sorry you feel that way, Lindsey,” Brian responded, his voice once again calm and quiet. “I’m also sorry you had a bad experience with one PC, although, I suspect there was a lot more to it than your parents let on. But that still doesn’t excuse your generalized prejudice against all PCs, let alone your bias against Justin in particular.” Brian paused only long enough to take a breath but then hurried on before Lindsey could fully voice the objection she was already starting in on. “Nothing you could say is going to change my mind about Justin, Lindsey. I’m not going to tell Bloom to take down Justin’s pictures and I’m sure as hell not backing out of my promise to purchase his contract. I don’t care what you or anyone else thinks of me because of my association with him, so you might as well notch down the outrage.”

“Brian . . .” Lindsey tried again to voice her complaints but her friend was tired of listening.

“Brian, nothing. I’m done with this conversation, Lindsey,” Brian cut her off. “Don’t bother calling again unless and until you’re ready to apologize to both Justin and myself, because I’m giving Cynthia orders not to put through any more of your calls for the foreseeable future. Get some help, Lindz.”

Brian deliberately hung up the phone, thereby silencing the ongoing arguments he could still hear even as he dropped the phone into its cradle. He shook his head again, both to express his disgust with Lindsey’s behavior and to clear away the continuing thoughts of her confused neuroses. At least it was somewhat comforting to think that he wasn’t the only one who came from a totally fucked up family. Even the rich kids from the upper crust of society sometimes got to experience the joys of a dysfunctional home life. He just hoped that Lindsey and her own personal brand of dysfunction would stay the fuck out of his business for a while.

********

After Brian hung up on Lindsey, he finally got a chance to settle into the real work that had been waiting for him. He spent the rest of his Monday going over background information for the two or three APC companies that Cynthia had put him in contact with. He would be meeting with one of these guys - the contractor - on Wednesday and wanted to have a well-founded initial pitch ready to go for him. He had Cynthia email specs for some artwork off to Justin that afternoon. He hoped the boy wasn’t so caught up in his painting that he didn’t see the email, but even so, they could work on it together that evening. The boy seemed to enjoy working on stuff together with Brian, so that was something to look forward to.

Brian was also looking forward to the other enjoyable things he and the boy could do together, now that the kid seemed to have overcome his aversion to touching. Thinking back on the boy’s over-the-top enthusiasm the night before put a real smile on Brian's face. Not to mention the way the kid had clung to him when it was time for Brian to head off to work. He'd never really had much use for the sweet little twink type before, but even an Insensitive Stud like Brian had to admit that adulation on that scale was pleasing. He hadn't been kidding when he'd referred to the PC as ‘adorable’.

The only thing that gave him pause was the niggling worry that it might have been too soon to venture into a full-fledged sexual relationship. Brian didn’t want to reinforce Justin’s assumption that he wasn’t good for anything beyond sex. Something in the way the kid was trying to tempt him to stay, the way he’d seemed almost too eager to please, made the new PC Owner the tiniest bit uncomfortable. Even though he’d tried to put Justin in charge of the physical side of things, he still wasn’t sure that the boy had pushed himself to take on that role solely for the pleasure of it. Brian knew he had to be careful. Not that he didn’t want to explore more of that side with the kid, but he had to remind himself not to push. He already felt like he was walking a delicate tightrope where the kid’s consent was concerned and he didn’t want to fall off on the wrong side.

Before he had time to get too bogged down in his worries though, Brian was pulled out of his musings by the vibration of his cell phone. He picked the device up off the desk and noted the caller, surprised to see the name ‘Emmy Lou’ appear on the screen. Brian didn’t think he’d ever got a call from Emmett before. He only had the number in his contact list because he - very rarely - employed his friend’s shopping expertise. But if Emmett was calling him, it must be important.

“Kinney,” he barked his usual, succinct, non-greeting.

“Hey, Brian! It’s me - the one and only Emmett Honeycutt - your favorite fashion maven! Bet you didn’t expect to get a call from me, did you? Although, I’m not sure why. We HAVE been friends for ages, but I don’t feel like we really talk enough. You know, we really should make it a point to have a little chat every now and then so we can catch up. We don’t HAVE to put it off until we meet up at Woody’s or Babylon . . .”

“Stop already!” Brian cut short the blathering before the loquacious queen could get any further. “Have I ever given you the impression that I’m the sort that actually enjoys ‘chatting’, Honeycutt? No. I’m pretty sure I haven’t. So, can you please get to the point already.”

“Don’t call me ‘Honeycutt’!” Em admonished in a disgusted tone. “And you shouldn’t be so mean to me, Brian. Not when I’m doing you a favor by calling in the first place. Or maybe you don’t want to hear the intel I have on that electronics store guy you’ve been asking about all around town?”

“Electronics guy? You mean, Craig Taylor?” Brian was suddenly very interested in hearing what his gossipy friend had to say.

“That’s the one! Although I’m not sure what I heard is gonna make you happy though . . .”

“Happy or not, tell me what you know, Emmy Lou,” Brian demanded.

“Weeeeellllll. You know how you said the other night when we were out at the club to ask around about the guy? So, I’ve been putting out feelers, you know, and it just so happened that one of my customers at Torso this afternoon knows someone who’s brother used to work for Taylor. And Gary - that’s the sweetheart who was looking for a new clubbing outfit for Friday night - gave me the name of his friend, who it turns out is an old workout buddy of Ben’s from Ript Gym. I recognized the guy’s name right away because I had the biggest crush on him about six months ago. Although, when I finally got the nerve up to ask him out, he turned me down, but that’s neither here nor there, right . . .”

“Emmett! Focus here!” Brian complained. “I do NOT need to know the entire life history of every fag you’ve ever talked to. I just want to know what the fuck all this has to do with Taylor.”

“I’m getting to that, Brian. Sheesh! Have a little patience, already . . . Anyway, Jorge - that’s the gorgeous, buff, gym guy - said his brother, Sami, was a Sales Associate at Taylor Electronics up until about two years ago. He was one of their top sales guys at the time, but he happened to make the mistake of speaking up when Taylor started putting up political posters opposing that bill to stop Gay Conversion Therapy. Sami isn’t even gay, himself, but he took exception to Taylor’s stance on behalf of his brother and confronted Taylor, asking that his boss take the posters down. Well, apparently Taylor just went totally apeshit crazy on the guy. He was ranting and raving, yelling, quoting fire and brimstone bible passages like some full-on Baptist preacher dude, and scaring the crap out of pretty much everyone in the place. And, when he was done, he fired Sami on the spot.”

Emmett stopped only long enough to take a quick breath before he hurried on with his story. “As if that wasn’t enough, though, Jorge says that there was this distributor’s rep in the store at time - a big wig from Bang & Olufsen, no less - who WAS gay. That guy got totally pissed off at Taylor and . . . the long and the short of it is that B&O pulled their entire line of products out of all the Taylor stores. According to Jorge, it’s been a major loss for Taylor because the guy sort of marketed himself as THE local seller of high end electronics and now he can’t offer his customers anything from B&O. But Taylor is adamant that he WON’T apologize and says he won’t sell any ‘Fairy Crap’ in his stores - apparently he insists that he didn’t want his stores or his name associated with the kind of faggots they have running B&O.”

Brian was silent as he mulled over this very telling piece of information. It all made sense now. This was the one piece of the puzzle they hadn’t yet figured out - why Taylor would agree to the outrageous deal that Hobbs and Stockwell had proposed. Because no father would voluntarily contract out his son to be a Personal Companion unless he had no other choice, right? Unless, of course, that father was an unthinking, homophobic bigot and had just found out his son was gay . . .

“Brian? You still there, Brian?” Emmett’s voice finally penetrated his friend’s haze of thought. “Is that the information you were looking for?”

“I’m here. And, yeah, that’s exactly what I was looking for. Thanks, Emmy Lou,” Brian replied gratefully. “Do you think you can get me your friend’s brother’s name and a phone number? I need to talk to him myself.”

“Sure. That shouldn’t be a problem.” After a delay of a few seconds, Emmett asked one more thing. “This isn’t about a client of yours, is it?” Brian didn’t respond at all, letting the dead air over the phone line speak for him instead. Em hesitatingly continued, “Jorge said something else that got me thinking . . . he mentioned that his brother thought it was funny that this Craig Taylor guy - the one that was such a total homophobe - had a son that was gay - and that pretty much everyone except Taylor knew it. Only, he said that the son later got bashed, and afterwards nobody knew what happened to him. The kid sort of dropped out of sight . . .”

Damn! Emmett was far smarter than that slow southern drawl would have one believe. If he could figure it all out, though, it wouldn’t be long before everyone else did too.

“Em . . .”

“I won’t say anything, Brian. I promise. Just, please, tell me that you’re going to take care of this and help our Baby. He really doesn’t deserve this, you know.” Emmett pleaded.

“No. He doesn’t deserve this,” Brian agreed, but without promising anything, because he didn’t yet know what he could promise.

“You’re doing a good thing, Brian Kinney. Keep up the good work,” Emmett added with a return of his usual optimism before adding, “well . . . okay. I know you’re doing what you can. Let me know if I can help in ANY way. Talk to you later, Bri,” and then hanging up.