Chapter 41 - Compensation.

Compensation:  Something given or received as an equivalent for loss, injury or suffering.

~~*~~

Justin's POV

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"Brian, stop. Ow, ow, ow. Stooooooppppppp."

"Quit complaining, Sunshine. You know the physical therapist said you need to stretch the shoulder joint so it doesn't get stiff or else you'll lose some of your range of motion," Brian insists as he again pulls my right arm upwards and back causing jolts of pain to radiate down my arm.

"He didn’t mean you were supposed to pull it back out of the socket again, though," I protest again. "Ow! Fuck, that hurts."

"Justin, it will hurt a lot less if you relax and stop fighting me," Brian reasons, rubbing the sore lats as he again pulls my arm the wrong fucking direction. "Stop complaining, relax and if you're good, I'll give you a full body massage afterwards to make up for it."

"I'm not falling for that again," I tell him with a smile. "That's what you said the other day, but the only thing that got massaged was my ass - from the inside. I want a real massage this time, Brian. Otherwise, no deal."

"Okay, okay. I promise I'll give you a full massage. Scout's Honor," he says, holding up his middle three fingers in the traditional boy scout salute.

"You weren't ever a boy scout, Brian!"

"True, but I've fucked several eagle scouts, does that count?"

We're both laughing by this point and I've almost forgotten the excruciating pain he's causing to my shoulder. When he feels he's stretched it sufficiently to cause me enough pain for the night, he actually does start to massage the soreness away, his long, strong but sensative fingers always applying the perfect amount of pressure and finding all the right spots. Before he's even finished with my shoulders, I feel like limp spaghetti in his hands. 

"Mmmmmm. Oh, Brian. Ohhhhh. That feels so good," I'm moaning in ecstasy as he kneads at the stiff muscles in my lower back that I've been overcompensating with to take pressure off my shoulder. "Ahhh. Oh, yes. Right there. Oh, fuck yes. Ohhhhhhh!"

"Shit! You two should lock the door or something if you're gonna be fucking in the middle of the day when you know company's coming!" Debbie's dulcet tones interrupt my last big 'Ohhhh' as she walks into the living room area carrying two bags full of groceries.

When she sees that we're both fully clothed and seated on the couch with Brian merely rubbing my back, I think she's actually a little disappointed. She covers well though. She leans in to give Brian a little peck on the cheek and then shifts her groceries to pat me on the head.

"Afternoon, Deb," Brian intones. "So, if you thought we were fucking, why didn't you just turn around and leave instead of coming over here to investigate further, hm?"

"Shut it, asshole," Deb says affectionately, bustling back towards the kitchen and yelling the rest of her comments over her shoulder. "I just brought you by a casserole and some of Justin's favorite, Chicken Parmigiana. If I know you, Brian, there's nothing in that fridge besides beer and poppers. How's that shoulder feeling, Sunshine?"

"Well, it was feeling better until Brian decided to practice KGB approved torture techniques on me," I say, following her into the kitchen to help unpack the groceries. "All I can say is that he's a much better AdMan than he is a physical therapist."

"Hey. You weren't complaining about thirty seconds ago," Brian smirks as he follows me and Deb and pulls a beer out of the fridge at the same time I'm putting the casserole dish inside.

By the time I've helped Deb unload all the food she brought us - which I mostly add to the other food she brought earlier in the week which has all been relegated to the freezer since there's no way we could eat that much food in a month - and listened to the instructions on how to reheat the casserole for the third time, we have another visitor, who knocks at the door frame next to the door that Deb left ajar when she came in.

"Hey, Teddy! Come on in, honey," Deb invites the quiet brunet into the loft with her usual proprietorial air, regardless of the fact that she doesn't live there. "Isn't Brian supposed to be taking the week off? How's that work if you keep bringing him piles of paperwork from the office? You need to let him get some rest! He and Sunshine are still healing, you know."

"Tell him that, Debbie. I'm just following my Boss' orders," Ted replies, sidestepping Deb's proffered bear hug and heading straight to Brian's desk where his Boss is waiting for him.

"You better keep an eye on that man, Sunshine," Deb warns me as she starts to gather her things together. "He's going to work himself into an early grave at this pace. You need to get him to relax a bit, you know? Well, anyways, I'm off. I promised to cover the dinner shift for Kiki tonight. Now, don't forget - your mother's coming to her first Family Dinner on Sunday so you and Brian better be there on time. You hear me?"

"Yes, Deb. We'll be there," I confirm as the whirlwind finally blusters out the door, still yelling advice at me even as the elevator begins to descend. Then I add, in a quieter tone, "we wouldn't dare not be there."

I head back into the loft, pulling the heavy door closed with my right hand, glad for the millionth time today that I no longer have to wear the sling. It's still very stiff but at least my arm works again. And closing doors wasn't the only thing I looked forward to doing with my newly freed appendage, thinking forward to what I could do to Brian tonight in bed.

"Fine. But, you've got to make a decision soon, Brian. The receiver wants to start liquidating the assets next week. He needs an answer by Monday," Ted is saying to Brian as I re-enter the room.

"Have Cynthia go ahead and set up a conference call for Monday morning, Theodore. I'll have a decision for him by then," Brian directs. "All the rest of this can wait. I'll look it over tonight. Thanks, Theodore."

"Anytime, Bri. See you on Sunday, Justin."

"Bye, Ted," I say as the older man lets himself out. 

"Sunshine," Brian calls to me. "We're going on a field trip."

~~*~~

Justin's POV

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I really dislike surprises. But Brian refuses to tell me where we're going or why. No matter how much I beg. Shit. I don't like this. 

I still have no idea what it's about when he pulls off the highway and then into a strip mall way the fuck out in the suburbs. Brian hates the burbs. Why the hell would he bring me way out here? There aren't any shops here that I can see Brian shopping in either. Brian isn't the Ikea/GAP type. I'm perplexed.

Then I see it - Big Boyz Electronics. My father's store. This is a new one - I've never been to this location before, but all the stores are basically the same so it's not hard to recognize. Oh, and the twenty foot high neon sign is a dead give away, too.

"Brian? What the fuck are we doing here?" I ask with trepidation. 

"Well. I need your input on something, Sunshine," Brian says as he parks the Vette in a distant parking spot and then turns towards me. "I have a confession to make first, though."

"I don't like confessions, Brian."

"Yeah, well, I don't like having to make them," Brian explains. "But I owe you an explanation and an apology. I also owe it to you to let you make your own decisions about what happens next."

That's when Brian starts to explain exactly what it was he did to 'ruin' my father. We get out of the car and start to walk towards the store as he talks. I'd already figured out some of what he was telling me just from overhearing what he and Craig had said to each other in the hospital the other day.  But now that I'm hearing the whole story, I'm fucking amazed at the brilliance of the plan Brian came up with - embroiling Craig in a patent infringement lawsuit that Brian already knew was on the horizon. And my father was so fucking greedy that he fell for it without even a tiny struggle.

"So, basically, at this point we own the company in all but name, Sunshine," Brian says as he leads me to a doorway near the back of the store. "Craig put up all the stores and all the stock as collateral for the financing I provided him. When he couldn't pay, the contract terms allowed me to put in my own person - a Receiver - to run the company. The Receiver now needs to know what we want to do with the company, which is why I need your input."

By this point we're through the doorway and I can see the area behind the door where the offices are located. These offices are a bit fancier than what I remembered from Craig's older stores, but it looks hauntingly similar. Brian waves at a busty, not-so-young-anymore receptionist who titters at him, and then leads me to what must be the manager's office. To my surprise, Brian seats me behind the desk in the big swiveling leather office chair and then types a password into the computer in front of me. After a few more clicks, he brings up a series of spreadsheets, which he leaves on the screen as he returns to one of the guest chairs on the other side of the desk.

"Brian, I don't know what I'm looking at here," I start to protest. 

"Those are the company financials. As you can see from all the red, Taylor Electronics hasn't been doing very well lately. Craig wasn't exactly a great businessman. He'd overextended the company long before I came along; in my opinion, he expanded to too many stores too fast. The company was already in a shitload of debt before I came along. But Craig probably could have saved it all if he hadn't gotten so greedy."

At this point Brian starts to look almost embarrassed. It's very un-Brian-like. Brian doesn't do regrets. So why does he keep looking at me like that?

"Now comes the apology part, Justin," Brian says but then hesitates. "I don't usually do the 'I'm sorry' thing because sorry doesn't fix anything. But this time I'm going to. I feel like shit about how I handled things and I just need to tell you that first before I can fix things."

"So, Justin, I'm sorry. I'm sorry I didn't tell you about all this from the start and I'm sorry that you got hurt because of it. If I hadn't pissed Craig off in the first place, he probably wouldn't have come after you. And your mother would still be getting her alimony. And you wouldn't have had to be in the hospital . . ."

"Stop, Brian," I cut him off. "You don't have to apologize. It's not your fault Craig is a maniac."

"Yeah, but he wouldn't have known where to find you if it hadn't been for my grand schemes."

"Maybe not, but what good does it do to worry about that now? It's done. It's over. What the hell does that have to do with anything?" I ask.

"I want to fix things for you now. That's the reason why I did all this in the first place; to help you get a little bit back from the man who hurt you so badly," Brian explains further. "The last thing I wanted was to hurt you more in the process than you'd already been hurt. But all my fucking plans . . . Well, they worked, but I'm not sure anymore if it was worth it."

"Craig's in jail," I say, with a certain amount of grim satisfaction. "It's where he belongs and he's likely to be there for a very long time. So, at least to that extent, I certainly think it was worth it. He won't be able to bother me, or you for that matter, for years and years."

"I still feel horrible about how it all came about, Sunshine. And I wish I'd told you what I had planned before I did it all, so you could have talked me out of it. But you're right that none of that does do us any good now. What we need to do right now is decide what to do with Taylor Electronics. The Receiver has done his job. The company is stable, but it won't stay that way for long unless we do something. So, you tell me - what should we do with your company?"

"MY company? Don't you mean your company, Brian?" I question him, worried by the odd look on his face; he still seems a bit embarrassed but he's also seemingly full of tense expectation.

"Nope. I mean, YOUR company, Justin. See, when I was arranging all this, the plan was not just to ruin Craig, but also to get something back for you. I didn't do this shit for me - what the fuck do I want with a chain of electronics stores? - I did it for you, Justin." 

"Your father owes you for all those years you spent living in poverty on the streets. Just beating Craig up or even ruining him wouldn't have been enough to compensate you for all that misery. And I always say, the best revenge is to become the biggest fucking success you can be . . . and then you'll be able rub your detractors' noses in it. So, once I was sure that nobody was going to drag TelePhonix into the litigation, I deeded 51% of the shares to you. You are the majority shareholder now. You own TelePhonix. Which means you also, basically, own Taylor Electronics."

"Which is why I need you to tell me what you want done with it now," Brian states with a sexy smirk. "If you want, we can keep the company. We'd need to restructure it and hire a good business manager - I don't know shit about retail - but it could probably become profitable in the long run. At least that's what Ted tells me. Or, we could liquidate the company and all it's assets, and just take the money."

"It's up to you, Sunshine," Brian grins at me, his tongue visibly sticking into his cheek. "It's your company now. Its your money. You've got the success. So how do you want to go about sticking it to that homophobic religious freak who calls himself your father?"

What part of 'I don't like surprises' does Brian not understand? This is the biggest fucking surprise ever in the history of surprises. You don't just go around giving away companies to people. What the fuck is Brian thinking? Is he trying to kill me or something? How the fuck is this even possible?

While I'm trying to remember how to breathe, I happen to glance at the computer screen in front of me. Yeah, there is a LOT of red, but on the pages where it lists the corporation's assets, there are also a shitload of dark black zeros. Lots and lots of zeros. Not too long ago I was freaking out over the idea of having a thousand dollars in my possession. How the fuck am I supposed to deal with thousands of thousand dollars to worry about. I still don't even have a fucking state ID, but according to this, I'm a fucking millionaire? Needless to say, the breathing thing isn't going well.

"Justin?" Brian sounds a bit worried now since I still haven't said anything. "I know it seems like a big headache, but really it won't be that bad. We'll hire people to do all the work - no matter which direction you decide to go. You won't have to even come here if you don't want. I promise."

Yeah, like that's the only problem. Brian just doesn't get how fucking badly this freaks me out. I suddenly picture this ridiculous image of myself, wearing my old street boy attire, my clothing stuffed with money just like a scarecrow is stuffed with straw. There are pieces of money poking out from my collar and the cuffs of my sleeves and even a few dollars dripping down from underneath the crown of some big floppy hat that I'm wearing. And I'm trying to stand on a street corner and look normal while I fish for Johns. Only, every time I move, a few bills leak out from my overstuffed clothing and dribble down to the ground around me. 

The silliness of that image finally snaps me out of my mini-panic. I've already decided I'm not ever going back to that life. I'm not leaving Brian. And even if I did leave Brian, at this point I wouldn't need to troll for Johns to stay alive, what with all the money I've saved up. Not to mention all this new money. 

"Justin? Are you okay?" Brian asks, taken aback by the crazed giggle I can't seem to hold back at this point. 

Brian gets up and comes around the desk to me. He pulls me out of the big chair, seats himself in it and then pulls me back down to his lap. Finally, with his strong arms around me, I start to relax again. Brian's touch always has that instantly calming effect. Now I can at least try to think through what to do.

"What should I do, Brian?" 

"Well, if you choose to keep the company, there won't be any money from it for a while. It'll take a year or two, at least, to turn it around before you start to see a profit. Plus, I don't really see you as a businessman, Sunshine. Do you have any desire to keep the company and run it?" Brian says, speaking into the hair at the nape of my neck. 

"None. I don't want anything to do with anything Craig ever touched."

"Then your best option is to sell the company, pay off the remaining creditors and walk away with whatever cash is left over afterwards. According to what Ted's been telling me, there are two possible buyers already interested. Of course, by the time you liquidate all the debts, there will only be a couple hundred thousand left. You'd make more in the long run if you kept the company, of course. But the upside is you'd have cash in hand and wouldn't have to bother with the business at all."

"A COUPLE hundred thousand?" is all I can choke out.

"Yeah. I know it's not that much, but . . ."

"Fuck, Brian! Not that much? A couple hundred thousand dollars? Are you fucking insane? That's a fucking lot of money for a street hustler. For anyone normal. What the fuck would I do with that much money? You hardly even let me spend any of the money you pay me for working at Kinnetik. What the fuck do I do with all this?"

"Well, I had one idea, Sunshine," Brian begins, but then he halts as if unsure how to say what he's thinking. 

I just sit there and look at him, waiting. Eventually he'll have to speak again. I can wait.

"Now, please don't get upset, Justin . . . But I was thinking that maybe you might like to use some of the money to go back to school," Brian finally finishes.

School? Hmmm? That's actually . . . a fucking wonderful idea. I was listening to Jessica talking just the other day about some of the amazing art and design classes she'd taken back in college and I'd felt just a bit jealous. But, me? I hadn't been in a real school since I was fifteen - back before Craig pulled me out to 'homeschool' me. How would I get into any school? I didn't even have a high school diploma. It would never work.

"Stop thinking so hard, Justin," Brian jokes with me, emphasizing his words with a little squeeze around my middle. "I can see those gears in your head spinning away as we speak. It wouldn't be that hard. First you take the GED test and then you'd have to take the SAT college entrance tests. I'm confident you'll do great on both. There's even prep classes you can take to get ready for them, right?"

"And, once you've got your scores back, we can think about colleges you might be interested in. If you want to go to a local college, you could even keep working part time at Kinnetik so you'll have some income. But, of course, you wouldn't have to, if you didn't want or if you choose to go to an out of state school . . .”

This last part Brian says while intentionally looking away from me. But his body betrays him even when I can't see his face. His grip on me gets just a little bit tighter when he mentions me going to a school outside of Pittsburgh. He's not fooling me - he couldn't bear me leaving, even just temporarily for school, any more than I could stand to be away from him. I can't help teasing him just a little, though. 

"Do you think there'd be enough money to pay for someplace like Harvard or, better yet, Stanford?" I ask innocently, coming up with the farthest away school I can think of on the spot.

"S-S-Stanford? You mean, like, in California?" Brian stammers, looking devastated for a moment or two until he notices that I'm grinning at him. "You twat! Yes, there'd be plenty of money for that, if you wanted to go to the fucking ends of the earth and study, what - business? - at Stanford. But, well, they have great graphic arts programs at Pittsburgh State and Carnegie Mellon, too. And you could still live at home. With me."

"Oh, Brian," is all I can say at that point because I've already melted into him as soon as he mentioned the happy fact that my home is wherever he is. 

"Sunshine," Brian breathes as he finds his way to my lips and kisses me deeply. 

Then there's no more talking, and I even forget about the computer screen with all those scary zeros for a long time afterwards. All I'm conscious of is Brian, and Brian's mouth on mine, and Brian's hands sliding down the back of my loose fitting chinos, and Brian's heartbeat thrumming along, lub dub, lub dub, in time with my own.

~~*~~

Brian's POV

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Justin's getting rather good at handling surprises, I think. This was a big one. But, he only had a little mini freak out and then snapped right back to normal. And he even managed to tease me a bit about going out of state to college. He's definitely better since the hospital. He said that finally letting himself fight back against Craig helped. But, no matter what it was that brought on these changes, all I can say is that I like it alot. And, since he's doing so well with this, I figure I'll push my luck a little and go for another big surprise. 

That's when Titts McGee comes nosing her way into the office, gasping at the sight of Justin and I making out (I guess I won't be getting anywhere with her using my standard Kinney charm anymore). I give his luscious coral pink lips just one more little nibble before turning my attention to Titts. She's standing there doing a hooked fish imitation, her mouth gaping open and her hands fluttering helplessly about. Poor Titts. Things are really gonna change around here without Craig. I doubt she's ready for this. 

"M-M-Mr. Kinney. I didn't mean to . . . I . . . I was just going to offer to go get you - and your, uh, friend - some coffee. S-S-Sorry to interrupt,” Titts manages to splutter out when I finally do give her my attention, not bothering to get up or to remove Justin from his perch on my lap, though.

“I don’t think we need any coffee, Titts,” I tell her, wondering briefly if I should try to find out her real name, then deciding quickly that I won’t bother. “But I would like to introduce you to your new boss. This is Justin Taylor. He’s the majority stockholder of the parent company that’s taken over Taylor Electronics. So I suggest you direct all your future butt kissing towards him instead of me.”

“Oh, my . . . Mr. Taylor. It’s, uh, so nice to meet you,” Titts manages, ignoring as best she can the fact that Justin is still seated on my lap. “Any relation to our prior owner, Craig Taylor?”

“None at all,” I interject before Justin feels he has to explain anything to this peon. “Anyway, that will be all for now, Titts. We won’t be staying much longer today. Oh, and, don’t forget to close the door on your way out. We DON’T want to be disturbed. Again.”

Justin is silently laughing into my chest as soon as Titts retreats. Fuck, he’s cute when he’s all happy and giggly like this - and I’m not even going to worry about how lesbionic that last thought was. I’m just going to enjoy being with my giggling blond. I especially like how wiggly he gets when he’s giggly. But I decide to table that thought because I don’t think Titts can handle any more gay displays today and, if I let myself go there, I won’t be able to stop.

“So, what’s your decision, Sunshine? Keep the company or sell it? I told Ted I’d have an answer for him by Monday.”

“Sell it. I have no desire to run any retail electronics stores or to have anything to do with anything my father touched,” Justin confirms the answer I had expected to hear. 

“Sell it is then. Poor Titts - she’s soon to be unemployed. Oh, well, at least she has her boob job to keep her company at night,” I joke, finally moving to rise and depositing Justin back on his own feet.  

“Now, Sunshine, let's move on to some more enjoyable errands,” I suggest as I lead Justin towards the door.