Previously in Chapter 11

Brian moved away from Justin, walking toward the couch. Brian looked straight ahead, his eyes unfocused. "The other night, after the... when the para... fuck it," he yelled in frustration. "I was drunk, went to Babylon and got sucked off by some trick." Brian sat on the couch, put his head in his hands and continued to stare at the floor.

Justin grabbed the chair, closest to the desk, attempting to steady himself. After taking a few deep breaths, he moved to sit in the chair.

What the fuck? He got blown by a trick. No wonder he's been drinking and not coming home. But when did this happen? Fuck! He started to say... after the... when the para... Shit! He got himself blown the night the paramedics came. No wonder he's been getting drunk and running hot and cold. Brian got blown by a trick. He got himself a trick. I can't deal with this right now.

They sat there for a long time, neither saying a word, refusing to move the pink elephant in the middle of the room. Justin stood up, walked out of the room and picked up the phone in the foyer.

"Carson, can you come up to the main house? I need some help moving some of my things," Justin stated.

"Of course, Mr. Taylor. I'll be there in a few minutes."

"Justin?" Brian said his name in the most tentative manner Justin had ever heard.

"Carson is coming over in a few minutes. He'll help me move into the studio."

Brian nodded his head. "Do you need any help?"

"No. I can't be here right now. I think you should leave me alone."

"Okay." Brian left the media room and retreated to his office. He poured a large glass of JB, but when he brought it to his lips, he couldn't bring himself to drink it. Replacing it on the desk, he leaned back in his chair, closed his eyes and allowed the tears to fall, unfettered.

Throughout the afternoon, he heard Justin directing Carson, his voice devoid of emotion. What have I done? At least he has the studio to go to. Maybe he'll talk to me in a few days. He's always after me to talk. Maybe... You're full of shit, Kinney. You've done the unthinkable. You're the biggest piece of shit.


Chapter 12

The afternoon wore on, but Brian sat stone-faced in their bedroom. A continuous loop of this afternoon's conversation ran through his head and he couldn't figure out how to shut it up. The sun went down, leaving the room in darkness, but Brian remained seated at the edge of the bed. Eventually he fell back toward the pillows and dropped into a fitful sleep.

The ringing of the phone jarred him awake. Looking down at himself, his clothing wrinkled and his hair mussed, he shrugged as he realized he didn't care what he looked like.

"Kinney," he growled into the phone.

"Hi Brian. Is Justin around? I wanted to talk to him about the orders from the con. We haven't had a chance to talk about them," Michael said cheerfully.

"Call him on his cell," he barked, hanging the phone up abruptly. I'm sure Justin wouldn't give me the time of day right now. It's best that Mikey call him directly.

***
Michael picked up the phone and called Justin's cell. After seven rings, Justin answered.

"Hello," he said groggily.

"Hey, Justin. I was wondering if you could come over early to Ma's and we could discuss the orders from the con. I know that you can't fill them right now, but we should have some idea of what we're looking at for the near future."

Shit. There is no fucking way I'm going to ask Brian for a ride to Debbie's. I could call the service, but then everyone would want to know where Brian is and why he isn't with me. We're so screwed. Can't a person even have a fight with their... spouse without the whole world knowing? I know they'll all yell at Brian for getting a trick, (that is if anyone tells them), and I'll be damned if I do that to him. Yeah, he screwed up and I'm pissed as hell, but that is between me and him--not the family.

"Actually Michael, I don't think I'm going to Debbie's today. My shoulder is really hurting and I don't want to ride in the car that long," Justin lied, hoping Michael believed him.

"Sorry to hear that, Justin. I hope you feel better soon. Maybe I could send the stuff with Brian?" Michael ventured.

Shit, now I've got to lie for Brian. I know he'll not go without me. The family knows too much about our lives.

"Actually, I don't think he's coming either. I think he said something about having a lot of work to catch up on this weekend," Justin smoothly said, surprised at the ease he lied to his friend.

"Oh, okay. Maybe Ben and I will stop by tomorrow after my doctor's appointment," Michael suggested.

"I think I have therapy tomorrow, Michael. Let me call you when I'm free. We can come up with a time in the next week or so."

"Okay," Michael agreed and hung up the phone.

Michael wheeled himself over to the desk where Ben was reading a reference book, preparing for his lecture.

"Something is wrong with Brian," Michael started his conversation.

"Uh huh," Ben said, without looking up from his work.

"Ben!" Michael said insistently. "Something. Is. Very. Wrong."

Ben rubbed his eyes and looked at Michael. "What makes you say that?"

"I just got off the phone with both of them and they're acting strange," Michael stated matter-of-factly.

"Strange, how?" Ben questioned.

"I called the main line and Brian answered, but when I asked to talk to Justin, he practically hung up on me. Then when I called Justin's cell, he told me he's not coming to dinner at Ma's, and said Brian has work and can't come," Michael explained. "Maybe I should go over there," Michael suggested, giving him his best puppy dog eyes.

Ben leaned over, giving Michael a kiss on the cheek. "Michael, I know you're Brian's friend and are worried about him, but if he needs you, he'll tell you. Now, I've got some work to do on this lecture for tomorrow." Ben turned back to his desk and started to read the resource book, making notes as he read.

Michael rolled to the couch and transferred to the cushion. He flipped on the TV and watched Family Man and the Simpsons. He was still worried about Brian and wondered if Ted knew anything, since he worked with him.

He picked up the phone and dialed his number. "Ted," he said.

"Hi Michael. How's your leg?"

"It's getting better. Tomorrow I go to the doctor to see if I can get a walking stub. It'll be so nice to get up," Michael commented. Michael played with the Rage figurine on the table as he talked. "Is something going on at work?"

The hairs on Ted's neck shot up. "What do you mean, Michael? You know I can't discuss Kinnetik's business with you."

"I called Brian and Justin earlier and they seemed off. Justin said Brian had to work and wouldn't be going to Ma's for dinner. It just seems strange. I mean Brian's cut back working on weekends these last few years," Michael casually mentioned.

"There's nothing going on at Kinnetik, but if Justin said Brian is working, then I'm sure that's what he's doing," Ted assured his friend.

"Okay. Are you and Blake going to be at Ma's?"

"We're planning on it. We've missed the last few weeks so we plan on being there today."

"Good. I'll see you then." Michael hung up the phone and wasn't comforted at all. He had a gut feeling that something was wrong; he just couldn't put his finger on it.

When Ben finished his lecture notes, he and Michael went shopping for food and picked up a few toiletries at the Big Q. Ben recognized the nervous behavior of his spouse and decided to get his mind off his friend. When they got home, he carefully helped Michael into the big bed, lavishing him with attention and the best blow job he'd received in a least a week.

Michael was worn out from the shopping and sex and took a nap for a few hours. When he woke, it was time to leave for Debbie's. Ben helped Michael into his wheelchair, and Michael wheeled himself down the ramp, and then used the elevator to get to the ground floor where Ben had pulled the SUV to the back. Michael got into the van and they drove to Debbie's.

They were the last to arrive.

"Sweetie. How are you?" Debbie swept over, bent down and gave Michael a big hug and kiss on the cheek, leaving her telltale lipstick mark.

Looking around, she questioned, "Where's Brian and Sunshine? They haven't missed a Sunday dinner in six months."

"They're not coming. I called Justin earlier and he said his shoulder was hurting and Brian had work to do," Michael explained.

"Brian better not be having Sunshine do too much or he'll never heal. Maybe I should drive over there and bring them some Mustcaccoli. I know Rosa cooks for them, but she doesn't make pasta like me."

"No," Ted piped in quickly.

"No, don't," Emmett said.

Debbie looked at Emmett and Ted, seeing the nervous looks on their faces. "What's going on? Tell me," she coerced.

"Nothing," Emmett said as he started walking toward the living room. "Who'll help me set the table? I'm starving."

"Nothing," Ted answered a short second behind Emmett. "I'll help you, Em. It seems lunch was a long time ago."

Gus was whispering to Lindsay, and Debbie said, "Do you have any idea what is going on, Gus?"

"No, not really, Grandma. Dad and Justin took me out yesterday to go shopping and they were arguing over who was going to pay for my soccer cleats. It was really strange," he explained as he looked to Lindsay for affirmation that he didn't say anything wrong.

"Brian cares nothing about money. He has more than he can ever use and Justin's art brings in probably just as much money as Kinnetik," Lindsay offered. "I'm sure it's nothing, Gus. They were probably arguing about something else, but didn't want you to know. Sometimes when adults disagree, things get said that have nothing to do with the original argument. I'm sure there is a logical explanation." She hugged him, but he pulled away from the affection.

"Mom," he groaned. "I'm practically grown. You don't have to hug me like some little kid.

"I'll call your dad later tonight," she stated and then went to help the men get dinner out on the table.

Dinner was a sedate affair, the usual liveliness absent. Everyone thanked Debbie and left early.

When the leftovers were placed in their containers, Debbie turned to Carl. "Those guys are hiding something. I know there's something going on with Justin and Brian," Debbie announced. She sat down on the couch, reaching for the remote. Carl sat down next to her.

"Sweetheart. It's not our place to solve the world's problems. Brian and Justin are grown men, and if they are having problems, let them figure it out." Carl leaned in and kissed Debbie on the cheek. "I think CSI is on and I want to see how bad the TV guys mangle police work." He picked up the control and clicked on TV, changing to the local affiliate.


When Lindsey and her family returned home, it was still early. "Gus, have you finished your homework? What about you, J.R.? Any tests or projects to work on?"

A chorus of "No," was heard.

"Good." Turning to Melanie, she stated, "I'm going to call Brian. Make sure everything is okay."

"Mom, don't. If there's something wrong, he'll tell us in his own good time. Dad never does well when confronted. You know that. He'll just deny everything," Gus reminded her.

"Linds, I agree with Gus. Let Brian be. He's a grown man and he doesn't call you every time we have a fight. Besides, you don't know if anything is wrong. He really could have work to do and Justin could be hurting. Don't blow it out of proportion," Mel urged.

Lindsey nodded her head. "Okay. But I have this feeling that something is really wrong."

________________________________________________________

Blake and Ted were getting ready for bed later that evening. Ted got under the duvet and pulled back the cover for Blake.

"What's wrong? You've been quiet since this afternoon." He leaned over and kissed Ted on the lips, offering assurance to his partner.

"Brian. I think Justin knows about the trick. Why else wouldn't they come? Michael is right. Brian hasn't worked on weekends in at least five years, and we don't have any new campaigns coming up. In fact he's not been in the office a lot since the accident."

"Do you think you should talk to Brian?" Blake suggested.

"No. He's really a very private person. If he comes to me, I'll be happy to talk to him, but I really wouldn't know what to say. If our suspicions are correct and he did get a blow job from that trick..." he took a deep breath and sat back on the pillows.

"What? Finish your thought. I can't read your mind."

"Brian and Justin have been monogamous since his accident seven years ago. For Brian to trick..." Ted paused, finding it difficult to put his thoughts into words. "If Brian tricked, it would probably devastate Justin. Not only that, but Brian's been drinking a lot. I think he's been reverting to his old pain management techniques. Problem is, those techniques are just going to add to his problems."

"You want me to talk to him?" Blake offered.

Ted smiled and kissed Blake on the mouth. "No, but thanks. Brian would fire me if he even thought we were having this conversation."

"Okay, but know the offer stands. Now let's get some sleep." Blake turned off the light, spooning up behind Ted and holding him around his waist.


"Hello sweetie," Em said as he saw the caller ID on his cell. I just came back from the most dreadful dinner."

"Didn't you go to dinner at Deb's?" Drew asked.

"Of course. It's Sunday dinner."

"What happened?"

"Well," Emmett started waving his hand in the air, despite being alone. "The other night, a trick came up to Brian at Woody's and asked him to go to the back room," Emmett began his tale.

"Nothing new there," Drew remarked.

"But this one said he had a beautiful cock and he wanted Brian to ride him," Emmett explained. Emmett rolled his eyes in impatience, knowing that Drew should understand the significance of the statement.

"And?"

"Don't you see, Sweetie. This guy had seen Brian's dick--which means that Brian has tricked recently," Em slowly explained.

"Oh. But what has that got to do with dinner? Em, I'm still not following you."

"Well, Michael called over to Brian and Justin's, and Justin said that they weren't coming to dinner and that Brian had to work, but Brian hasn't worked on weekends in years, so that means that Justin knows and Brian is in big trouble," Em explained.

"And you know all this from a simple statement by a trick?" Drew reiterated.

"Of course. It was plain as the nose on Brian's face that he realized he'd been caught. He was drinking like a fish and well, he left right after that. Teddy made me and Blake promise not to bring up the conversation again. It's so obvious." Emmett waved his hand in front of his face to fan himself.

"Let me get this straight. A trick comes up to Brian, Brian turns him down and doesn't go to Debbie's for Sunday dinner. This means that Brian is tricking and drinking and in trouble."

"Finally, you understand. Oh, dinner was dreadful. I wish you were here so that you could take my mind off the situation for a few hours." Em drawled.

"Emmett Honeycutt, you're still the biggest Queen I know; I love you, but you really know how to be dramatic. I'm sure there is a logical explanation for the whole business," Drew assured him.

"I hope you're right, but I have a bad feeling about it, and my Aunt Lula used to say, ‘trust your instincts'."

Drew laughed. "One day I'm taking you back to Mississippi and you're going to introduce me to great Aunt Lula. In the meantime, are you in bed? I'm horny and you do have a great imagination when it comes to phone sex," Drew spoke sultrily into the phone.

"Oh my," Emmett waved his hand in front of his face again. "You do know how to flatter a man." Emmett lay on the bed and proceeded to give Drew just what he wanted.

TBC