********    

Chapter 37 - VanGuard Fallout.

Once Brian and Justin had recovered from Dr. Ruby’s devious but effective therapy techniques, the rest of the counseling session had rushed by. Justin was still reluctant to open up completely about what was bothering him, but through pictures and a few hushed words, the PC had relayed some of the background that had been haunting him. Even what little the boy had disclosed was enough to cause Brian's blood to boil. The next time he saw Gary Sapperstein, he’d be hard pressed not to punch his smarmy face in.

By the time the session was over, both Brian and his PC were completely wrung out. Dr. Ruby assured them both that they’d made a real breakthrough that morning, even though they still had a long way to go. Justin seemed especially tired out as they were leaving. The boy was even stumbling a bit as they walked out to the car together. Brian didn’t want to just take the boy home - he feared the backlash of emotions after dredging up all that pain would hit the kid hard. He did not want Justin sitting there at the loft all alone if that happened. The only alternative, though, was bringing Justin with him to VanGuard.

Which is why Cynthia found them both in the elevator when she intercepted it before they could disembark on the executive floor of the agency's office building.

“Stop!” the able assistant ordered, holding up her hand to not only preclude Brian's questions but also to prevent him from stepping off the elevator. “Hang onto that thought and give me a minute to explain,” she added in a quietly confidential voice as she joined them in the elevator and immediately pushed the button for the lowest level of the underground parking garage.

Brian looked at her quizzically but didn't say anything.

“Did you read my email last night?” she asked as soon as the elevator doors had closed.

“No. I haven't had a chance to check my messages. Things have been . . . complicated,” Brian confessed with a glance in Justin's direction.

“I didn't think you'd read it,” Cynthia sighed. “Okay. The short version is this - Vance had a secret meeting last night with Lapointe. I don't know exactly what it was all about, but I don't think it's good. Gardner’s PA has already been by twice this morning to see if you were in yet. Something is definitely fishy around here.”

“Shit!” Brian exclaimed. Just then the elevator opened on a lower floor and a group of three office workers started to board. “You're taking the next car!” Brian snarled at them and then viciously punched the ‘close door’ button. “It doesn't make any sense. Why would Lapointe be meeting with Vance behind my back? I could see it if he was unhappy with my work or something, but the PC Clearinghouse campaign is right on schedule. The initial boards aren't due for another two weeks. What could Lapointe be so upset about that he'd go running to Vance?”

The elevator reached P5 and the doors rolled open again, this time to a dark and deserted garage scene. Cynthia put her arm out to hold open the door until they were done talking. Brian worriedly scrubbed at his face with both hands before grabbing two fistsfull of hair in exasperation. A concerned Justin stepped closer to the big guy and snaked a consoling arm around Brian's waist. That simple gesture was enough to calm the agitated adman enough so that he could focus again.

“Alright. Whatever the fuck is going on, I suppose we’ll find out soon enough. Let's head back upstairs and get this over with.” Brian punched the button for the correct floor and waved Cynthia back from the door. “When we get up there, Cyn, can you take Justin off somewhere so he's out of sight - no sense in pissing Vance off more than necessary.” Cynthia nodded understandingly while Brian bent to give the boy’s temple a reassuring little kiss. “As soon as I'm done kissing Vance’s ass and have him calmed down, I'll come get you, Sunshine.”

“Whatever happens, Brian, can we plan to meet somewhere tonight? I've got more to tell you about that special project we were working on,” Cynthia commented, tilting her head in Justin's direction to tip him off about the true subject she needed to discuss.

“Yeah. That's a good idea. We really shouldn't be talking about that here in the office anyway. How about we meet at Woody’s after work? I owe you a drink - or five - for all your extra work anyway.”

“Deal, Boss. Besides, I’m afraid we're all going to need a drink after whatever happens today,” Cynthia agreed just as the elevator car came to a stop back on the correct floor. “Come on, Justin. I'll set you up in the empty office at the end of the hall. You can use the computer in there to get started on the artwork for the Stevens-Wayans account. I've got it all ready for you. I'll even bring you a coffee and some of the pastries that Bill brought in this morning - fuck knows you can still afford to gain a few pounds.”

Brian couldn't help smiling at the way the boy licked his lips at the thought of his promised treat. He waited by the elevators and watched the two retreating blonds, trying to tamp down the protective urges he felt towards them both. He couldn't think about that now. He had to deal with whatever drama Vance and Lapointe were brewing up first.

“There you are, Mr. Kinney,” Brian's contemplations were interrupted by the piping of Sandy’s rather nasal voice. “Mr. Vance has been waiting for you. He wants to see you in his office right away.”

“So I heard,” Brian responded laconically. “Just give me a minute to take off my coat and check my messages and I’ll trot right over to Gardner’s lair.”

“That won’t be necessary. Mr. Vance wants to see you immediately. I’ll take your coat for you and you can go right in,” the pushy woman asserted, reaching out for Brian’s sleeve as if to forcefully divest him of his clothing on the spot.

Brian swallowed his ire and let the presumptuous twit take his overcoat, but he held onto his briefcase when she tried to snatch that away too. “Thanks, but I got this.” He gave her his most facetious smile and then gestured for the woman to lead the way down the hall to Vance’s office.

“Kinney! Finally,” was the greeting Brian received as soon as he arrived at Vance’s office.

“Good morning to you too, Gardner,” Brian responded with his fakest smile.

“Where the fuck have you been all morning!” Vance shot back with his most condescending glare.

“What? What’s this ‘all morning’ crap? It’s only ten o’clock - that’s hardly all fucking morning.” Brian seated himself in the guest chair in front of the angry little man’s desk, trying to maintain his normal casual demeanor. He did relent a little though. “I had a doctor’s appointment. Do you need a note so I can get a hall pass to my next class or something? What’s the big deal?”

“The ‘big deal’ is that, when I need to talk to you during regular business hours, you should be here,” Gardner continued to glare at him.

“I’m pretty sure the employee handbook says that, as a salaried employee, I’m allowed to take an hour off for personal appointments every so often. Besides, I worked about fifty hours a week the last ten weeks in a row and I’m ahead of schedule on every single campaign I’m working on so back the fuck off already, Vance.” Brian snarled back, unwilling to play the meek employee for the cretin who was trying to bully him without provocation.

“Yeah, well, the employee handbook and your employment contract also say I can fire your ass if you fuck with our clients,” Vance stated with an almost celebratory smirk on his face.

“Who have I ‘fucked’ with?” Brian reacted, holding both hands out in a beseeching gesture. “I’ve created the best fucking campaigns this agency has running and I’ve brought in more than a third of all your current accounts by myself. How the hell is that fucking with anyone?”

“What about PC Clearinghouse,” Vance asked, looking at Brian with a smug little smile on his face.

“Yeah, I heard you met with Walter Lapointe last night,” Brian stated, noting with at least some satisfaction the surprise Vance couldn’t hide. “I don’t know what he’d have to complain about though. His campaign is right on schedule. I’ve got a meeting set up to go over the initial boards with Lapointe in about two weeks. I've already got my art guy started on the concept I came up with, so there shouldn't be any problem having it ready to go on time. And, as usual, my ideas are fantastic, even if I do say so myself.”

“Good. That'll mean that Brice has something to work with when you hand off the account to him,” Vance sneered.

“Why the fuck would I hand off my biggest account to a talentless fuckup like Brice?” Brian bridled instantly. “Especially after all the shit I went through already to win the fucking account? Brice can go out and get his own damn clients. I'm not walking away from an account that big without a fight, Vance.”

“Yes, you are,” Vance shot right back. “Lapointe wants you gone, and since the client’s always right - especially a client with pockets as deep as Walter Lapointe’s - you're out, buddy boy.”

“Are you fucking kidding me?” Brian was flabbergasted. “Lapointe’s firing me? ME? On what grounds? I've bent over backwards for that asshole. Not to mention the fact that I just today sent him a buttload of money to pay down the amount I owe his company for the PC I bought from him. Why the hell wouldn't he want to work with me after all that?”

“Probably because you've been bad-mouthing his company behind his back,” Vance answered.

Brian just stared at his boss in total confusion. He had admittedly made some random comments against the PC trade in general over the past few weeks, but only to close friends and never in public where his statements might be overheard. Except for private comments to Cynthia, though, Brian hadn't once said anything bad about PC Clearinghouse or Lapointe. He wasn't that stupid. He would never say anything negative about a client, let alone one of his biggest accounts. Vance’s accusations just didn’t make sense.

“I haven’t said a word about PC Clearinghouse to anyone outside this office, Vance,” Brian asserted. “Whoever is making up these allegations is lying.”

“Oh, so now you’re calling Walter Lapointe a liar too?” Vance laughed outright at the perplexed look on Brian’s visage. “Lapointe told me that he’d heard about your comments from more than one of his industry contacts. And he wants you gone because of it. Rightfully so, I have to say.”

“I didn’t say anything bad about Lapointe or Clearinghouse,” Brian insisted, even though he could see from Vance’s expression that his protests were useless. “But, whatever. If you and Lapointe think Brice can do a better job on this campaign than me, then take the fucking account. Good luck with it. That’ll free up my time to go out and get other clients who aren’t so delusional.” Brian shook his head in disgust and started to rise from his seat.  

“No. You won’t. At least not here at VanGuard you won’t,” Vance rejoined, also getting to his feet and moving around his desk so he was standing between Brian and the door. “Lapointe wants you gone. All the way gone. And I’m more than happy to oblige him.” Brian was so dumbstruck at this outlandish development that he just stood there staring at the vindictive little man in front of him for a good long minute. Finally, Vance gave in to his need to gloat and laughed outright at his newly-humbled employee. “Frankly, I’ll be more than happy to see the last of you, Kinney. You’ve been a pain in my side from day one. You’re a foul-mouthed, insubordinate hack and the only reason I didn’t fire you before now was because I didn’t have the grounds. I should send Lapointe a thank you present for finally giving me a good reason to kick your ass to the curb.” Vance laughed again, looking like he’d just won the lottery, he was so happy at the prospect of firing Brian. “Now, hand over your keys and your company cards and get the fuck out of my building.”

Brian had passed the point of disbelief and was now fuming inside. The fucking gall of this tiny, pathetic, little man! If anyone here was a hack it was Gardner Vance. If he hadn’t had daddy’s money - which had allowed him to buy up one agency after another, and as a result had given him access to whatever talented Ad Execs came along with those purchased companies - he’d never have come as far as he had in the industry. Without Brian, Vance’s takeover of the Ryder Agency would have bankrupted him. Well, fine! If that’s how Vance wanted to play it, Brian didn’t really want to work for the sleaze anymore anyway. Let’s see how long he could keep the company afloat without Brian bringing in lucrative client after lucrative client for him. And fuck Walter Lapointe and his fucking PC Clearinghouse too! Brian would be happy never to have to see or talk to that cretin and his PPC cronies again.

“Fine. I’ll be glad to turn my back on his pit. Just write me a check for the quarterly bonuses you still owe me and I’ll be on my way. I’m happy to take my talents somewhere that I’ll be appreciated,” Brian announced, straightening up so that he towered over the much shorter Vance and could therefore glare down on him more haughtily.

“Think again, Kinney,” Vance snapped back, looking even more triumphantly vindictive. “Since you’re being fired for gross misconduct, you don’t get squat.”

“Fuck you, Vance! I worked my fucking tail off for the past three months and I damn well earned those bonuses! You can’t welch on paying me - it’s spelled out in my fucking employment agreement. If you don’t pony up that money, I’ll sue your ass and end up owning this whole damn agency by the time I’m through,” Brian fumed.

“Good luck! After the way you’ve acted and the allegations Lapointe’s made, you’ll be lucky if I don’t sue YOU for the damage you’ve done to my company’s reputation,” Vance shot back with all the pompousness his five-foot-five frame could muster. “Besides, even if you do sue me and win, it’ll take you months - if not years - before you see a penny. And my lawyers assure me that any damages you might be awarded won’t amount to even a tenth of the profits I’ll be raking in off the PC Clearinghouse account in the meantime. So, do your worst, Kinney. I’ll be laughing all the way to the fucking bank.”

As enraged as Brian was at that moment, he recognized the truth to Vance’s threats. He probably couldn’t do anything to hurt the scumbag. At least not legally. Not in time to get the money he still needed to pay off Justin’s contract bid price. He was royally fucked. Without lube. But standing there glowering at the conceited little asswipe wasn’t going to change that fact.

Without another word, Brian picked up his briefcase, pushed Vance aside, and strode out the door. Waiting just on the other side of it, were Sandy - holding his coat out for him - and two of the building security guards. Brian scowled at the priggish secretary but didn’t bother speaking to her. He just took back his coat and then marched past the lot of them on his way to the other end of the hall.

“You don’t need to go back to your office, Mr. Kinney,” Sandy stated  officiously, jogging along at his elbow. “I’ll have all your personal effects boxed up and shipped to you by the end of day tomorrow, along with your final paycheck and any other paperwork. I will need your keys and company ID before you leave though.”

Brian ignored her and the two goons trailing behind them. He walked past the bank of elevators until he was standing in front of Cynthia’s desk. She looked worried.

“Brian?”

“Vance fired me on trumped up grounds. I’m being escorted off the premises. Get Justin for me. We’re leaving and good fucking riddance to Vance and the rest of this place,” Brian stated as unemotionally as possible under the circumstances.

“Fuck!” Cynthia mumbled as she jumped out of her chair and trotted down the hall towards the empty office where Justin had presumably been waiting.

Two minutes later Brian’s Personal Assistant returned, followed by a shaken-looking Personal Companion. Brian could tell his boy was scared so he immediately reached out and grasped Justin’s hand, lifting it up to his mouth for a reassuring kiss, heedless of the judgmental eyes watching. Justin looked up at him with such grateful, trusting innocence, that Brian almost broke right then and there. All Vance’s deliberate rudeness and condescension hadn’t even come close to shaking him, but that one look nearly did. Before he came completely unglued, though, Brian turned on his heel and headed for the elevators, dragging Justin along behind him.

“I’ll be in touch, Cynthia,” was all he said in parting as Brian walked into the waiting car with Justin by his side and the two security guards flanking them.

********

Brian didn’t say a single word on the car ride back to the loft. When he reached the corner of Fuller and Tremont, he pulled the jeep over to the curb and put the engine into neutral. Then he turned to the worried boy sitting in the passenger seat with a phlegmatic expression.

“You have your key to the loft?” he asked, seemingly out of the blue.

Justin nodded, patting at his jacket pocket to indicate the location of the key.

“Good. Get out,” Brian ordered dispassionately.

“No,” Justin whispered, dropping his eyes to the floorboards and biting at his bottom lip but not moving to obey the directive.

“Justin,” Brian sighed with annoyance. “Get out of the fucking car and go upstairs to the loft. Now.”

The boy simply shook his head, ‘no’, and didn’t budge.

“That’s an order, Justin. I want you to go wait for me in the loft. Now get your ass out of this car before I kick you out,” Brian directed, his voice raised to just this side of yelling.

Still the boy sat there, unmoving except for his right hand, which was shaking slightly where it was clutched over the edge of the sketchbook he was still holding onto in his lap. Brian hated the submissive, jittery posture the boy had assumed. He hated knowing that he was the one making the poor kid so frightened. It made him even more angry. With himself and with the damned PC.

“Listen to me, Justin. Are you listening?” Brian asked, trying to keep his voice level and calm. “I need you to go wait for me in the loft. I’ve got shit to do that doesn’t involve you and I need to know that you’re safe while I’m out. So I need you to get out and go upstairs. Alright?”

“How will I know YOU’RE safe?” the timid yet stubborn PC asked in a voice that was so quiet Brian might not have heard the words if he hadn’t been so completely focused on the boy.

“What?”

“You . . . Y-Y-You’re upset, B-B-Brian . . . I . . . I don’t know . . . Where will . . . Where will you go? . . . I-I-If you l-l-leave me here, h-how w-w-will I know you’re safe?” the boy stammered through a semi-explanation, never looking up from his feet the whole time, the twitch in his right hand getting steadily worse as he tripped over the words. “I-I-I . . . I want to stay w-w-with y-y-you . . . P-please, Master.”

“Fuck, Justin! I don’t need a fucking babysitter. I’m a big boy. I’m perfectly capable of going out all by my fucking self. I certainly don’t need you watching over my shoulder the rest of the day,” Brian argued, but still felt like he wasn’t getting through to the intractable little twat sitting next to him. “Look, I just got fucking fired over some absolutely bogus, made up allegations. I DESERVE to go out and let off some fucking steam. So, my plan - for what it’s worth - is to head directly to the closest bar, drink until I’m out-of-my-mind, can’t-find-my-ass-with-both-hands, drunk, do several illegal drugs, and then fuck every available ass I can get my dick into until I pass out. You really do NOT want to be around for all of that. Trust me on this, Justin. Now, just go home. Go do some fucking art or something and. Leave. Me. Alone.”

“No,” the perverse PC responded again, this time his voice a little more sure and a little louder. “I’m . . . I’m going with you.”

‘FUCK!” Brian screamed and pounded his hands against the steering wheel in frustration. A quick glimpse at his companion, however, showed that even though the kid had flinched at the yelling, he wasn’t getting out of the car yet. “Fine! Suit yourself, brat. Don’t say I didn’t warn you though.”

Brian put the car back into gear and peeled out into traffic, barely avoiding a collision when he darted between two oncoming cars to pull a u-turn. Justin sat there without even looking up. Brian was fuming mad but also just a little bit impressed at the way the kid had held his ground. Damned stubborn little shit . . .