Chapter 11 - Blue Falcon
“Lindsey, Pumpkin, how are you,” Ron Peterson said as he came into the solarium where Lindsey was waiting. “You look enchanting this morning,” he gave her a quick uncomfortable peck on the cheek before seating himself on the teak veranda chair next to the matching loveseat where Lindsey was perched.
“Well, dear, I see that living the bohemian lifestyle of the ‘Starving Artist’ definitely agrees with you. Who knew that poverty could be so becoming.” Lindsey cringed at the endearing backhanded compliment from her loving father.
Lindsey squared her shoulders and tried to disregard her father’s cutting remarks. “Daddy, I need your help with something about Gus,” Lindz offered, hoping to redirect the conversation to where she wanted it to go. She was heartened when her father’s attention instantly riveted on her. “I’m not sure that Brian is a good influence on Gus. I don’t know what I should do. I . . . I think maybe I should try to stand up to him but I just don’t know where to start.”
Ron Peterson, who had long doubted his daughter’s wisdom in letting a flaming fag father her child, instantly keyed into the topic at hand. “What’s got you worried, Pumpkin?”
“Well, I really don’t know anything concrete, but I’ve seen this young man - well, he’s really just a boy, you know - at Brian’s house several times lately and I just get this odd feeling about him, you know. His name is Justin Taylor. I don’t really know anything about him, and that’s exactly what worries me. I don’t want Gus exposed to just anyone. But I don’t know what to do, Daddy.”
Ron’s face scrunched up in confusion as his daughter spoke. He had never liked Brian Kinney. Even back when Lindsey was in college and she was ostensibly dating the man, he’d had his doubts. So Ron was sure that his little girl’s concerns were very warranted indeed.
“Well, dear, have you seen this . . . Justin acting inappropriately with my grandson?”
“I wouldn’t say it was inappropriate . . .” Lindsey played her ace card, “but, I thought they were very friendly with each other and it was rather quick . . . I did see this man hugging Gus while they were out in the barn. Justin was only half dressed at the time and . . . well, I didn’t think anything about it at the time, but now I don’t know."
Lindsey smiled triumphantly to herself as she watched her father’s face cloud over with anger. His skin was tinted hellfire red and his eyes nearly bulged out of their sockets as he stood and confronted her about her half-truths. Yes, Justin had indeed hugged Gus, and it was also a fact that he was shirtless at the time, but what she neglected to tell her dear old dad, was that it was hot out and he had been teaching Gus some dog training techniques for JB and that he was waiting for his shirt to dry in the sun.
“I wish you had told me about your concerns earlier, Pumpkin. This is not what I wanted to hear this morning. But, don’t worry. I’ll have my people look into this. If this Justin Taylor is at all sketchy, we’ll get to the bottom of it.”
“Thank you, Daddy. I’m so relieved. I know you’ll make sure that Gus and I are protected and safe,” Lindz said, satisfied that her mission was successfully completed. “But, please, Daddy, you will let me know if you find anything . . . incriminating . . . before you go to Brian, won’t you? I want to deal with this as discretely as possible . . .”
“Of course, Pumpkin,” Ron Peterson agreed willingly. Actually, it fit right into his own plans that his daughter would take care of this unseemly business by herself. Scandal was so tawdry. It would be better for everyone if this was handled behind the scenes. In his exclusive social circle, keeping one’s name from being sullied by those who reveled in slinging mud and airing their dirty laundry publicly, was of the utmost importance.
After dancing late into the night followed by a session of marathon sex, Justin was comfortably spooned against Brian’s front. Brian was still asleep as was evidenced by the wheezing snores coming from behind Justin’s head. Even when asleep, though, Brian’s cock was hard and nestled between Justin’s ass cheeks.
Justin was in that twilight state where the brain was awake but the body was in a resting languid condition. Something felt out of place but he wasn’t sure what it was. Some sound or feeling in the air had woken his mind.
And then he heard it, a soft click and a whispering voice beyond the closed apartment door. Then the soft whispers were soon followed by the quiet whoosh of closing drawers and rustling papers. Not wanting to wake his beautiful adonis, Justin carefully slipped out of bed and retrieved a pair of sweatpants, pulling them on before taking a peek around the painted screen that hid the sleeping area, to check out the disturbance.
“I’m in, Jake,” the tall nondescript man whispered, holding down the transmission button on the radio mike affixed to the shoulder of his jacket. “Give me ten and then I’ll be out of here.”
“The coast looks clear,” the words crackled back out of the speaker of the radio down by his belt as ‘Jake’ pushed open the apartment door and quickly made his way inside the small studio.
The man was efficient. He knew what he was doing. He was a professional. He didn’t need to ransack the place to get the information he was after. He silently moved across the floor towards the kitchen area and opened and closed each of the drawers in the cupboards, not interested in most of what they contained. In the one top drawer closest to the door, he paused a little longer, and rapidly went through the small bits and pieces of paper mixed in amongst keys and random knick knacks. None of it was what the man was looking for so he moved on.
There was a stack of papers on the end of the small table that looked like it doubled as a desk. The man flipped through them - noting that it seemed to be nothing but bills, unsolicited credit card offers and other recent mail. The only thing of interest there, was the bank statement, which Jake took pictures of using his camera phone and then put it all back where he found it.
There didn’t appear to be any other place where a person would keep documents and important papers other than maybe in the bookcase. Jake scanned the various book titles with amusement. This guy sure had a wide range of tastes when it came to his reading materials. In amongst the usual spattering of paperback novels, there was a tattered copy of the Complete Works of Shakespeare, a copy of Dr. Seuss’ ‘Cat In the Hat’, and one of the more recent non-fiction expose books dealing with the latest scandals in Washington. It was not exactly what the man had been expecting to find in the apartment of some flunky jarhead.
Jake pawed through the books a little bit more, intrigued for the moment by the inconsistencies. There were art books, science fiction, and even a biography or two. The art books seemed to be more numerous than the rest by a small fraction. Jake picked up a couple and flipped through the pages. Nothing of interest inside. All of the books were obviously second hand copies.
Then, almost on a whim, the man picked up the one tattered sketchbook shoved in between the other, mostly hardbound books. He flipped through the pencil drawings, noting briefly that they seemed pretty good to him. He was just about to put the book back where it had come from when something fell out from between the pages and fluttered down to the floor. Jake bent over and picked whatever it was up. He was going to look at the scrap he’d found and then put it back, but some sixth sense told him that he’d been here too long. He opted for just shoving whatever it was into his pocket, ready to get the hell out of there.
Jake was more than poised to leave, but without warning he found himself thrown to the floor, fully encased in a rear naked choke hold, a muscular arm coming around his body from behind, wrapping itself around his windpipe and then using the collar of his own shirt as the assault weapon choking him out.
“What the fuck are you doing in my house?” a menacing voice hissed in his ear. “Did some asshole special ops agent send you to take me out?” Justin demanded answers and quickly before the life completely drained from this pathetic fucker. Justin’s slightly trembling hands continued to tighten around the lapels of Jake’s shirt as his legs, wrapped around the invader’s torso, began to further squeeze the air out of his lungs. The hand of the arm wrapped around the guy’s neck was locked onto his own biceps so there was no way for the bastard to break out.
“What the fuck is going on out there,” Brian’s voice rang out from the area near the bed.
“Stay back, Brian. I’ve got this,” Justin warned, even as he heard his lover clambering out of bed and rushing towards them in the dark. “We just had a little uninvited nocturnal visitor. But he won’t be staying long.”
“Fuck that, Justin,” Brian, no scared little faggot that needs protecting, groused as he stomped away briefly, stubbing his toe on something in the kitchen, before flipping the light switch and illuminating the entire scene.
The light revealed Justin grappling on the floor with a beefy guy sporting the typical buzzed haircut and slightly paunchy gut which seemed to be the norm amongst a certain type of law enforcement professional. From the look on the guy’s face, he wasn’t enjoying himself. His eyes were slightly bugged out and his skin color was a blotchy red mixed with pale patches. Brian could tell that the gentleman hadn’t had nearly enough oxygen in the very recent past, what with his Sunshine’s arm wrapped around his neck and all.
“Well if it isn’t Officer Daniels. You’re not looking so good, can I get you anything? Beer, soda, a nice oxygen mask perhaps?” Brian indicated that his lover should unhand the man. “Justin, maybe I should handle the introductions. This is Jake Daniels, one of Pittsburgh’s finest, and in his off hours, I believe, employed as a security guard for Ron Peterson?”
“What? You actually know this low life son of a bitch, Brian?”
“I don’t know him, exactly, but I’ve seen him. When he’s not ‘serving and protecting’, he works for Gus’ maternal grandfather, Ron Peterson. And I don’t think you want to be handling a cop like that, Sunshine. I really do think you need to let the man get up and get a lungful of air.”
“What the fuck, Brian?” Justin exclaimed angrily, “This turd broke into my apartment and I’m supposed to let him go? Why the fuck was he even in here?”
Brian glared at Justin as if he were scolding his own son, letting him know in no uncertain terms that this little issue was not up for debate. The last thing either of them needed was to have a dead cop in their midst. Brian, in particular, didn’t need any run-ins with the cops, especially when it was all happening on the grounds of his club.
“You definitely need to let him go Sunshine, and my guess as to the reason for his visit is to spy on me . . . but we won’t know that until you let the man breathe.”
Reluctantly Justin slowly untangled himself from the good old boy in blue. Finally gaining his freedom, Jake went to his hands and knees pulling lungful after glorious lungful of much needed air into his poor depleted body. As soon as he was able, the gasping lout started to crawl as far away from Justin as he could get in the small apartment, keeping an eye on the dangerous criminal all the while. He was trying at the same time to reach for the mike of his still live radio, so he could surreptitiously let his partner in on what the fuck was going down.
“Yeah, you don’t need any backup, buddy,” Justin saw the move and was already way ahead of the guy.
The former marine, fresh from combat duty, wasn’t about to let the asswipe pull a ‘blue falcon’ on him. If by chance this creep did find something incriminating - although Justin couldn’t think what the fuck that would be - then he wasn’t going to let the guy call in some clue to his cronies. And, for that matter, he wasn’t going to let the guy out of here with that radio or any other electronics. Justin disconnected the mike from the radio unit, tossed it across the room so that it shattered against the wall and then efficiently patted the guy down, pulling a smart phone out of the guy’s back pocket.
“I’ll just keep the sim card for this, you know, as a little memento of our time together.”Justin said as he grabbed a pen off the nearby counter, popped the sim card out and broke it in half. “Ooops. It looks like I broke it. Too bad, so sad. You’ll have to get that replaced,” Justin handed back the phone itself with a big fake grin.
“Thanks a lot you fucking pervert. Hope you enjoyed the extra grope there,” rasped the still suffering cop, shying away as if Justin’s hands on his body had contaminated him.
“Oh believe me, the pleasure was all mine, Officer Jerk Off,” Justin smiled ingratiatingly at the man. “Now, why don’t you get the fuck out of here before I unpleasantly grope you some more.”
With the threat of having Justin’s fag hands on his body again, Jake quickly scrambled to his feet and made a hasty retreat towards the door.
Brian opened the door for the homophobic cop, “Better hurry. Don’t want any of that queerness to rub off on you!” Brian declared loudly as he slammed the door, almost smacking the cop’s ass with it as he left.
Once Jake was safely ensconced in the passenger seat of his car, Patrick, his partner in crime as well as on the force, gave him a quick once over. Patrick noticed the bruises starting to form around his throat and face.
“Damn, Jake! What the fuck happened to you in there?”
“Don’t even fucking ask,” Jake shook his head, really not interested in telling his partner that he was bested by a skinny little blond boy fag.
“Lindsey,” Brian said with a sarcastic smile as he opened the door to his son’s mother. “Why is it NOT a surprise to see you here this afternoon? Oh, yeah, that’s right, because I already had a run in with your father’s goon this morning.”
“I don’t know WHAT you are talking about, Brian,” Lindz said, unsuccessfully playing the dumb blonde card.
“Dumb is not becoming on you, Lindsey. I know the guy that busted into Justin’s apartment this morning works for your dad during his off hours as a cop. I’ve seen him doing security at parties you forced me to attend. What the fuck do you think you’re up to, huh?” Brian was incensed and not at all willing to listen to excuses. “Whatever the fuck you think you’re doing, Lindz, it stops RIGHT now! My personal life is absolutely none of your business.”
"Well you just might feel differently about that once you see what I have to show you,” Lindsey commented, her voice dripping saccharine. “It seems your little stable boy has been following you for some time now, just waiting for the chance to get close to you. Now ask yourself . . . why would the little wayward blond do such a thing hmmm . . ."
“What the hell are you going on about, Lindz?”
Lindsey opened her handbag and shuffled through it theatrically before pulling out a small laminated piece of paper which she presented to Brian in a thoroughly exaggerated manner.
“This is what I’m going on about my dear friend. I just happened to be talking to Michael the other day and he told me this very interesting story about some guy who’d been going around Liberty Avenue showing off a picture of you. It seems that your new blond boy toy was flashing this around town,” Lindsey added viciously as she pointed to the picture that Brian already knew so well.
Brian took the small item that Lindsey was holding out in her hand. As soon as it touched his hand, he recognized it as the photo he had given to his brother Ben before he’d left on his last tour. Brian had made sure it was laminated so it would hold up no matter where his brother took it. He’d told Ben to keep that with him everywhere. On the back, in Brian’s bold handwriting the words “Be Safe” were still visible beneath the well worn plastic. The corners were a lot more battered now than when he’d presented it to his brother, and the lamination was coming apart on one corner, but it was definitely the exact same picture he’d given to Ben.
“How the fuck did Justin get this?” Brian queried, his voice barely above a whisper. The mere sight of the picture of his fallen brother causing his throat to become as dry as the desolate desert that served as Ben’s final resting place.
“That’s a very, very good question,” Lindsey replied spitefully. “Didn’t you say that he was over there in Iraq too? And, if I remember right, there was that allegation of ‘friendly fire’ surrounding Ben’s death. So . . . who would have been close enough to him at the time of his death to have taken your photo from him? Hmmm?”
“Lindz . . . you really should see a shrink to get some help for that over-active imagination of yours. The fact that Justin had this picture - which, by the way, was obtained by your father’s goon illegally entering his home - probably has nothing to do with Ben’s death. Fuck, for all we know he and Ben were buddies and Ben gave it to him,” Brian offered the first alternative hypothetical that came to mind.
“Dear, sweet, delusional Brian. Stop thinking with your cock. Correct me if I’m wrong, but I’d venture to guess that Justin hasn’t told you that he knew Ben, has he? Has he explained what he’s doing here in Pittsburgh. Isn’t it way too much of a coincidence that he just showed up here, with your picture in his possession, and never said ANYTHING about it?”
“Fuck you, Lindsey. This is none of your business. Besides, what the fuck do you care anyway?” Brian insisted, not yet willing to concede that his lover might have something to hide even though it wasn’t looking good.
“I don’t care about your sorry ass or where you’re sticking your dick these days, Brian, except of course that I don’t think it’s appropriate to let just anyone get close to my son,” Lindsey hit home her real point. “I mean, what do you really know about this kid, Brian? NOTHING, right? You just let anyone with a dick and a hot ass jump into your bed and then into your son’s life? I don’t give a crap who you fuck as long as you don’t do it where it will affect Gus. But, by bringing this sick stalker here, you’ve set yourself and Gus up for a world of hurt. Think about it, Brian? Think about what you’re setting Gus up for?”
“You know what? I don’t think you know what the fuck you’re talking about. This really has nothing at all to do with Justin, does it? You’re nothing more than a spiteful bitch, Lindsey, who’s jealous because it’s not YOU who’s here in my bed. Well, regardless of who I’m fucking or not fucking, or who I let visit my home, you’re not going to get what you want out of me, Lindz. I’m not going to FUCK YOU and we will never play happy family! I suggest you keep your turned up nose away from my business from now on Lindsey and stop going to daddy like the spoiled little rich girl you are every time you don’t get your way. Oh, and get the fuck off my property.”