A Tale of Four Queers

Chapter 4

Brian woke with a start. He was in the throes of a nightmare, suffocated by thousands of frogs. He was choking and he couldn't understand why he couldn't get up.

"Brian, wake up!"

"Shit, what happened?"

"You were having a bad dream. You're okay, I swear."

"Fucking hell, I can't go through another night like that one."

"And I promise you, all of you, I won't make you, us, go through that again. I'm sorry, Bri."

"No sorrier than I am. I wasn't that drunk last night. I owe Father Paul an apology. I'm okay but you gotta get up … and now. I really need to piss."

Justin scrambled to get up off of Brian and the four very weary travelers packed up their sleeping bags. They didn't bother changing other than putting on fresh t-shirts. It just didn't seem necessary. They all felt that they were smelling ripe, so what good would it do to put on a whole set of clean clothes on stinky bodies.

Justin made sure that they left the room as they found it and before he shut the door, he put another ten dollar bill on one of the cots. When he joined the others, Father Paul was ordering breakfast for them all.

"I hope you all had a pleasant night," Father Paul inquired.

Before anyone could answer, Brian spoke up. "We had a very comfortable night. Thank you for asking and I apologize for being rude last night. I was a little tired but that's no excuse for rudeness. Please tell our host that we appreciate the accommodations," Brian said in all sincerity. John, Bobby and Justin gaped in astonishment.

They had some time before Miguel was due so Justin showed Father Paul more pictures of the Kinney paintings. He showed him how the artist signed his work, just in case Father Paul came across any more paintings. Justin gave Father Paul his address and Father Paul promised to contact Justin if any more paintings popped up.

John and Bobby wandered around, taking pictures of the town. They wanted to record their adventure and bring back proof that Brian really slept there. Bobby joked that for a small sum of money, a plaque could be hung in the cantina declaring 'Brian Kinney slept here,' for all the world to see. They were still laughing when Miguel pulled up in front of the church. The travelers said their goodbyes to Father Paul and urged Miguel best speed back to Caracas.

Since the room the boys shared had only one shower, Brian decided to make use of the hotel's spa and Jacuzzi. He and Justin donned their hotel provided robes, brought their best scented body wash and bathing suits. They showered off the dust and grime, slipped on their suits then slipped into the Jacuzzi. About an hour later, Brian and Justin were relaxed and pink from the bubbling warm water. When they returned to their room they were met by the heady aroma of sex and the soft snores of sated lovers. Brian winked at Justin as they walked passed John and Bobby's bed. The two were wrapped around each other, peacefully sound asleep.

Not wanting to wake his brother and Bobby, Brian and Justin quietly shrugged out of their robes, removed their wet bathing suits then crawled under the soft blanket. The air conditioner took the humidity out of the room making it pleasantly cool. They snuggled close, kissing and nibbling gently. Justin turned himself around so they could 69 and rim one another. The lovers came in each other's mouths with soft moans. Before Justin could fall asleep with his feet on the pillows, Brian reached under the blanket and guided his sated boy the right way up. They too fell asleep, wrapped in each other's arms.

It was just going on seven when the boys woke up. They had been sleeping almost 5 hours. They could have stayed longer in bed but they knew if they did that, they'd throw their whole schedule off kilter. So begrudgingly they got up, dressed and set out in search of dinner. Finding a decent restaurant that had a varied cuisine, the four enjoyed a 'normal' dinner and discussed the plans for the next village.

"Justin, what's next?" This time Bobby was the brave one.

"Cabimas," Justin answered.

"Where the fuck is that?" Brian snarked.

"It's about three hundred miles from Caracas close to Colombia."

"Ah, Justin, how close?" John asked with trepidation.

"About 80 miles."

"Justin," Brian snarled.

"Look Cabimas is a large city, we'll be fine."

"And did Kinney and Patrick stay there?" Brian growled out.

"Not exactly. They stayed at a village called San Marco. According to the journal they stayed there only a few weeks. But that's long enough to paint something."

"And how do you propose we get there?"

"We could rent a jeep or something."

"And spend god knows how many hours on some bumpy dirt road? Out of the question.  Some of us don't have the same amount of cushioning as you do."

Justin stuck his tongue out at Brian then made his next suggestion.

"By plane then. It would be about an hour away."

"That's better. And San Marco, how far away is that from Cabimas?"

"Um, forty miles." Justin mumbled.

Brian glared at Justin and then looked at John. "He did not say 40 miles, did he?"

John nodded.

"Justin, forty miles back into Venezuela, right?"

"No, toward Colombia."

Whispering low so that only Justin, John and Bobby could hear him, Brian laid down the law. "Justin, my little queer ass is going nowhere near that country and neither is yours. Half the drugs I have ever consumed came from that country. I am not risking our lives. No way, Justin." Brian lost his appetite, threw down some money and stormed out of the restaurant.

When the band of not so merry men found him, he was in the hotel bar nursing a beer. Justin sidled up to him and sat on the next stool. John and Bobby sat at a nearby table and waited for the fireworks.

"Brian, I'm sorry."

"Sorry is bullshit." Brian was so angry that the 'asshole Brian' was in full force. "Justin, don't even try to persuade me. No little blond boy ass is worth any of us getting hurt or worse. No."

Justin heard Brian's anger and a few feet away so did John and Bobby. But Justin also heard the worry and the love. He leaned in and waited. In a few minutes Justin felt Brian lean back and relax a little.

"Brian, I'd like to go to Cabimas. It's a big city. I'm sure they even have a four star hotel or two. We'll find a reputable guide to take us to San Marco. If the church is still there, I'll look for the paintings, take pictures and we'll turn around and go back. We shouldn't be gone more than four hours. I promise. We can stay overnight then go to Panama. We shouldn't have any worries there. Please Bri, please."

Justin waited, again.

"Justin, you swear to me that if there's a hint of trouble we turn around immediately."

"I swear." Brian slumped. He was still unconvinced but he also knew how important this was to Justin, to all of them. While Brian may not have been as obsessed with Kinney and Patrick, he was drawn uncharacteristically to the romance of them. Of how their lives had become entwined, like his life and Justin's.

"All right, let's go talk to the concierge. I'll make the travel arrangements in the morning."

John and Bobby sensed that the mood had brightened a tad and they got up from their table.

"Is it safe?" John asked with his best Brian smirk.

"Yeah, I'm done being an asshole, for now. I need to talk to the concierge then I need some serious time with a certain little blond boy ass. I need to make sure he still..." Brian choked on the words. Justin smiled the special smile that he gave only to Brian and reassured his man.

"I still do, always."

Brian sighed in relief. "Come on then. Let's get this show on the road."

The trip to Cabimas went without a hitch. They even found a hotel that barely met Brian's standards, but after the night he had spent in Santa Ana, Brian's standards had perhaps dropped a tad.

They made arrangements with a travel company to hire a car to take them to San Marco the following morning. Justin was so excited about their adventure that Brian had to fuck him into the mattress several times to calm him down.

They left for San Marco in good time and arrived there before noon. The driver took them to the church and then told them that he would be at the cantina down the street when they were ready to leave. Brian breathed a sigh of relief knowing the car was nearby and they could leave whenever they wanted.

Brian looked up at the façade of the church. "I'm not sure how many more of these fine establishments I can continue to enter," Brian said with a solemn face.

"Why?" Bobby asked.

"I might go up in flames. That's what my mother keeps promising."

"Your mother is some piece of work," John said.

"Yeah, you got the good one."

Justin put his arm around Brian's waist and reached up to kiss him on the cheek. "You don't have to come in if you don't want to."

Brian raised an eyebrow. "Would you mind if I sat in the graveyard and had a smoke?" he asked.

"Go right ahead," Justin said.

"I'll come with you, Justin," Bobby offered. Justin smiled and they headed for the front door of the church.

"I could use some quiet time," John said following his brother to the cemetery.

They found a bench and sat down side by side. Brian lit a cigarette and took a long drag. He offered it to John who grinned and took a puff.

"I gave up smoking a long time ago," John said. "But a puff every now and then sure tastes good." He took another draw and handed the stick back to Brian. "Why didn't you want to go in there?"

"I just told you out front."

"The truth, Brian. Don't bullshit me."

"I have never felt comfortable in church. My mother has a lot to do with it, but I also find the whole concept of religion hypocritical. Want to find a bigot, look in a church. And I've had to deal with enough bigots without seeking them out in the hallowed halls of the Almighty."

"Point taken," John said with a chuckle.

Brian offered him another drag on the cigarette, but John declined. They sat in companionable silence for a few minutes. All of a sudden Bobby came running into the graveyard yelling for Brian.

"What the fuck's the matter?" Brian asked standing up.

"Justin needs you."

"How can he get into trouble in a fucking church," Brian asked as he strode towards the front door.

"You'll see when you get inside," Bobby said not wanting to explain the whole thing.

Brian pulled the door open and could hear raised voices as soon as he did. One of them was definitely Justin. He walked down the aisle seeing Justin and the priest in a shouting match.

"Justin, what the fuck are you doing?" Brian asked stunned by the vehement look on his partner's face.

"This hypocritical, prejudiced piece of trash has had JABK's painting covered over with plaster," Justin practically screamed.

The priest stood silently in front of the large group but his look would have struck Justin down if he could have managed it.

"Excuse him, father, he needs to calm down," Brian said grabbing Justin's arm and pulling him a few steps up the aisle.

"I'm not fucking going anywhere," Justin said shaking off Brian's hand. "You didn't hear what he called me."

"Called you?" Brian frowned.

"He … he called me a perverted heathen," Justin gasped from his heaving chest.

"Well, we are, aren't we?" Brian asked trying to lighten the moment and knowing that that was probably how most South American priests would see them. "Let's get out of here."

Brian tried to guide Justin up the aisle, but he kept turning and shouting at the priest about being stupid and a bigot and committing sacrilege by destroying a religious work of art. The priest stood in silence watching them go. Brian could see a self-satisfied smirk on the priest's face. Once they stepped out of the church Brian pulled Justin into a tight hug and held on till he felt his partner relax.

"Now tell me what the fuck happened," Brian said.

"I went in there and spoke to the priest. He was nice enough at first, spoke pretty good English. I told him what I was looking for and he waved at a wall that had been recently plastered. I asked him what that meant and he said he had covered up a disgraceful painting by a homosexual man who had painted his young lover as Christ. I couldn't believe my ears. When I tried to question him about it, he said nobody but another perverted heathen would be interested in the evil depiction."

"Why did he call it evil?" Brian asked.

"The figure of Christ had blond hair which demeaned the local people who are all dark. He had recently found a record in an old Bible telling about Kinney and Patrick and their homosexuality. He considers that the ultimate sin. To him it's worse than murder."

"Well we are in the land of the macho man," Brian observed.

"I told him I'm gay and then he started calling me names, so … so I called him a few back."

"And that was where we came in?" Brian asked.

"Yeah, what an asshole! I thought we'd meet more people like Father Paul," Justin said shaking his head.

"People like Father Paul are the exception. This guy's the rule."

"I hate to think that, but I guess you're right."

"Excuse me for a minute," Brian said.

"Where are you going?"

"I have something to say to our friendly priest."

"Brian…"

"Keep him out here, John."

Brian opened the door to the church. He knew he should just walk away and leave it, but he couldn't. He walked down the aisle to the priest who still stood in much the same spot.

"May I help you?" he asked with a smirk.

"I just wanted to show you something," Brian said. He pulled out his wallet and removed the wad of American dollars that he had inside. "This was to go to the church for the preservation of the artwork by John Aidan Brian Kinney, but since you destroyed it, you get nothing, you arrogant son of a bitch." He shoved the money back in his wallet and strode out of the church.

He half expected the priest to come beg him to change his mind, but the man stood his ground, not giving in to the urge that Brian was sure he had seen on his face.

"Let's get out of this God forsaken hellhole," Brian said as he steered them all to the waiting car at the cantina.