Chapter 2 - FUBAR

Justin had been home for two weeks now. He was staying with his sister Molly and her family in their tidy little suburban home in Champaign, IL. It was cozy and all, but he felt so out of place. There was too much quiet. Too much softness. Too much normal. After all those years of dawn revelries and mission-after-mission stress, he didn’t have a clue what to do with himself. He hardly ever left his room because it just all felt so surreal. Didn’t these people have any idea that their cushy civilian life was all just an illusion?

Justin knew that Molly’s two boys had no idea what to make of him. He was Uncle Justin, but they’d never really got to know him before. The last time he’d seen either of them, the youngest, Logan, was still an infant and his older brother, Turner, was only three. Now that he was finally back in the states and they were a bit more grown up, he had no idea how to relate to them. He’d been gone too long and seen too many things to be able to understand middle class American childhood.

The second night he was there, he’d dropped a plate that he’d been washing in the kitchen when he heard the gunfire replicated by the kids’ video game. Luckily nobody noticed his slip except Molly. Her husband, Steve, came in a few minutes later and gave Justin the evil eye as he was sweeping up the shards of broken stoneware. Steve looked down his nose at Justin but didn’t say anything, willing to let his wife’s brother be as long as it made Molly happy. It didn’t make Justin feel any more welcome, though. This was NOT the place for him. He couldn’t settle into this life so easily.

The straw that broke the camel’s back, however, came along sooner than Justin had expected. It was a Sunday morning and 'Mom and Dad' were sleeping in, which meant that the boys were unsupervised for the morning. Justin had been lying in bed - not really asleep, since he could never sleep past dawn anymore, but just dozing. Even so, he was taken completely off guard when the door to his room burst open and both children roared through the doorway, whooping like stereotypical ‘Indians’ and jumping on the bed in an ambush.

Justin wasn’t even cognizant of his actions at that moment. His instincts just took over without rational thought making any appearance at all. Within an instant, Justin had rolled over so that his attacker was pinned beneath his body and his hands were throttling the invader’s throat. In his mind he could hear the repetitive beating of a helicopter’s blades and smell the dirt, sand and stale sweat stink that seemed to always pervade the barracks he’d been living in for most of the past ten years. His vision was blurry and all he could think of was protecting himself from the threat. It wasn’t until his brain finally registered the frightened whining of his nephew, Logan, calling out for Molly, that Justin finally came to his senses and realized that his attacker was only poor little Turner and that he was about to strangle the small boy.

Justin was out of the house by the end of the day. There was no way he could risk staying there any longer. He wouldn’t . . . couldn’t bear to be a risk to Molly or her family. This was NOT the place he belonged. Justin needed to get away. He needed to find someplace that he felt he could heal. He needed to find his angel.

Pulling the creased and dusty picture out of his pocket for the millionth time, Justin looked into the beautiful hazel eyes of his angel and felt the ethereal pull once again. He knew his life would never be complete until he found his guardian angel and thanked the man for bringing him - almost whole - back to the world. Quickly throwing the bare necessities into his kit, Justin was out the door before Molly and her husband were even out of their bedroom.

Without even really thinking about where he was going, Justin started walking. He didn’t yet know where he was going. He didn’t really care. He would find his angel no matter what. And, in the meantime, he would be out in the free air away from the constraints of family, normalcy and the stifling feeling of domesticity.

The exercise, the fresh air, the physical act of walking away from his problems, was so refreshing that Justin didn’t stop for hours. He was all the way into town by the time he noticed it was getting dark. Quickly, Justin ducked into the first little cafe he found and was enjoying a juicy cheeseburger and fries before he had time to even think about his retreat. Luckily, the cafe had an internet connection and a workstation set up near the door. Justin logged on and resumed his research, trying again to match the partial image of some random night club in the background of the picture of his angel to a real place.

All Justin had to go on was the last half of the name of some club, which was illuminated in ten foot high neon letters behind the picture of the beautiful hazel-eyed man. -YLON-. That was all that Justin had to go on. When Justin typed the letters ‘y-l-o-n’ into the computer, all he got back were hits about a professional chess master and poker player from New York. That didn’t seem like the person he was looking for. He tried searching for clubs with the ‘ylon’ in the name but only got several listings for clubs in Lyons, France. Then, hoping against hope, Justin decided to search for gay clubs and limited his search to the U.S. There was no way for Justin to be sure that the man in the picture he’d found was gay, or that the club he was standing in front of was a gay club. It was simply hopeful thinking. But, amazingly, that search turned up a listing for the ‘50 Best Gay Bars’ in the US and one of them - Babylon, a club in Pittsburgh, PA - boasted a picture of the front of the club showing a large neon sign that actually matched the picture he held in his hand.

It looked like Justin would be going to Pittsburgh!

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It was only 9:30 am when Justin approached Babylon - the club he’d found on the internet in his search for the angel in his picture. He'd been walking for two weeks now and was more than ready to take a break from his search. The few people on the streets that he'd shown the photo to since he'd arrived in the Pitts had all directed him towards Liberty Avenue. So, here he was. Before he was even within a hundred yards, though, he was sure that this was definitely the place. The picture in his hand perfectly matched the website as well as the vista unfolding in front of him. Since it was daylight, the ten foot tall neon signs weren’t yet lighted, but he could already tell that this was the right club. Now he just had to find his angel.

Outside the club, there were a couple of cars parked and two men standing there talking. One of the men was a bit older - probably about thirty-five or so - with a slightly receding hairline, bland but genial features and a slight build. The other man looked like a contractor - big square shoulders, large frame and lots of muscles.

Even without being able to hear all the words, Justin could tell that the smaller man was reaming out the big burly guy. What he could hear, being yelled at near top volume, didn't sound good. "I don't care what your other jobs are, Rupert. I need you to concentrate on the club. The ongoing upkeep here is just as important as any new job you might get. If you don't think so, you can pretty much count yourself out of any future work involving Brian Kinney."

There was a hushed but heated exchange between the two men after that. Justin, standing deferentially about twenty meters away, just watched and waited patiently without interrupting or intentionally eavesdropping. The few words spoken loud enough to carry to where he was standing were acrimonious. When the two men ran out of nasty things to say to each other, the big guy stalked off to the black pickup parked nearby, got in the cab and drove away without any visible remorse. The shorter man stood there and scowled at the back end of the retreating man's vehicle, his contemptuous look was unmistakable.

With a big sigh and a shake of his head, the dark-haired man turned and finally caught a glimpse of Justin standing off to the side. “Can I help you?” he asked politely, encouraging Justin to come a step or two closer.  

“I’ve been looking for this place . . . I . . . I . . .” Justin didn’t really know how to go about explaining why he was here or exactly what he thought coming here was going to accomplish.

Justin reached for his wallet and started to pull out the picture of his angel, figuring that the photo would go a long ways towards helping him explain. At the same time, though, a clipping he’d taken out of the newspaper a few days back also fell out of the wallet and fluttered away on the slight breeze, ending up on the ground right next to the small, banal man’s feet. His new acquaintance bent over immediately to grab the piece of paper before it could drift further away.

Looking down at the clipping, which seemed at a glance to be from the Want Ads section of the paper, the man grinned and looked back up at Justin. “You must be here about the job we advertized in the paper. I’m Ted Schmidt, by the way. I’m the manager here at Babylon. And, you, my boy, got here at the perfect time. That big lug that just drove away was our maintenance guy, but he’s been doing a lousy job around here for some time now. Which is why I just fired him and why we’ve been advertising for someone new for a couple weeks.”

“It’s not the most glamorous job, I admit - you’d be mostly just doing a lot of little repairs, maybe some light plumbing and cleaning - we have a regular cleaning staff, but it's a big place and sometimes there’s stuff they don’t get to, you know,” Ted had already grabbed Justin by the shoulder and started to walk with him towards the front entrance of the club. “We’d, of course, hire contractors for any big projects, but what we really just need is a body to be around here and take care of all the mounds of little things that crop up with any business. So, how does that sound?”

“Uh . . . It doesn’t sound that hard,” Justin responded, a little unsure where the conversation had gotten away from him.

“So, what did you say your name was, kid?” Ted asked belatedly as he pulled open the front door and ushered Justin inside the pitch dark cavernous space.  

“Justin. Justin Taylor,” he replied at the same moment as Ted flipped a switch and the interior was flooded with light, temporarily blinding them both.

“Great. Nice to officially meet you, Justin. Now, if you’ll just follow me back to the office, I have an application for you to fill out and we can talk more about the job. It doesn’t really pay much, I’m afraid, but you will get free access to the club, if you’re into that scene. It’s a great place to meet guys . . . Um, not that I’m assuming that you’re gay or anything, but if you are, well . . ." Ted’s voice died off as he got even more flustered over his little faux pas assumption.

“It’s fine Mr. Schmidt. And, yes, I’m gay,” Justin took pity on the man and reassured him with a small smile. “I’m not sure I’m all that into the club scene, though. I’m really just looking for a bit of peace and quiet in my life at this point.”

“Oh, well, except for between the hours of 10 pm and 4 am, this is about the quietest place on the planet,” Ted chuckled, gesturing around with his hand at the vast empty space that echoed with their hushed footsteps. “So, are you from around here?” Ted asked as he pulled open the office door and showed Justin to a black leather covered seat in front of a big glass and chrome desk.

“No, Sir. I’m from Champaign, Illinois,” Justin answered as he sat on the edge of the chair, his back straight, his hands resting lightly on his knees, his eyes automatically scanning the area around him from force of habit instilled by long years of training and the need to constantly be aware of your surroundings at all times.

‘Well, that’s a bit of a drive. Did you just get into the Pitts or have you been here a while?” Ted asked conversationally.

“It’s an even longer walk, Sir. And, I just got here this morning.”

“A walk? You . . . you walked here from Illinois? That’s . . . different,” Ted didn’t know what to make of that comment, but he just shook it off and pulled out a file full of job applications - they needed a handyman for this place as soon as possible, and it wasn’t exactly a highly skilled position - Ted reminded himself he shouldn’t be picky about who was applying for the job.

Both men were silent for a few minutes while Justin looked over the paperwork Ted had handed him. Ted swivelled his chair around and busied himself with something else in order to give the younger man a bit of privacy while he filled in the forms. After about ten minutes, Justin cleared his throat to get Ted’s attention. The club manager turned around and smiled at the good looking young man, taking just a second to admire the kid’s shiny, close-cropped blond hair and the unshaven cheeks that looked so soft under the haze of darker blond stubble. ‘This kid is definitely a looker,’ Ted thought to himself, ‘Just the kind of handy man I wouldn’t mind having around my own house.’ Then Ted slapped himself upside the head in his imagination and told himself that he had a more than attractive partner waiting for him at home - Blake wouldn’t care much for Ted’s little flight of fantasy.

Ted took the proffered application back and looked down at it, trying to clear his head of any more inappropriate thoughts about this young man who was a potential employee. There wasn’t really much on the form, though - there were a couple of large blanks where Ted had expected to see a lot more. It didn't bode well.

“I don’t have a local address yet, Sir,” Justin explained as soon as he saw the shadow of doubts flickering across the older man’s eyes. “I just got in this morning and I came here directly.”

“Well, that’s one job perk I CAN offer you,” Ted cheered up right away. “There’s a small apartment here, around the back of the club. It hasn’t had anyone living in it for quite a while, but once it’s cleaned up, I’m sure it would be fine. It would be yours if you get the job.”

Justin nodded uncommittedly. He still wasn’t even sure he was looking for a job. He really only wanted to find the angel from his picture. How had he gotten so sidetracked?  

“I see that you’ve only listed one prior job for the past ten years,” Ted continued, perusing the fairly limited application. “That’s not much of an employment history for someone your age - you’re what, twenty-seven, twenty-eight - no college or other school, either? Well, tell me about your most recent employment . . .”

Justin was about to begin explaining about his military career when he was startled by a loud bang as some back door to the club was thrown open and then galloping, yipping, yelling and all-around chaotic noises blared through the formerly quiet club. Both Justin and Ted jumped to their feet and dashed out the office door to see what had invaded the usually quiet daytime ambiance of the club. Ted was only a few feet outside of the office when a dark blur of something pelted around the corner and ran into him at around shin level. The dark little blur was followed seconds later by a giggling mass of waist-high boy with a sparkling grin and a head full of wild auburn curls. The boy slid around the corner, his sneakers squeaking on the bare concrete floor, trying to stop himself when he saw the two men standing in the hallway, but only managing to topple right into Justin’s waiting arms.

“Gus! Gus, get your ass and that god damned mutt back here! I do not want you two running amok all over the club. If he has an accident in here, you’re cleaning it up - not me!” Yelled a deep, sardonic voice.

The body associated with that voice came around the corner just as Justin righted the wayward boy. Glancing up at that opportune moment, he saw a tall, shadowy figure.  As the shape moved forward into the light, Justin let out a gasp and his fingers tightened involuntarily on the child’s shoulders. This was the angel from the picture. Could it really have been this easy to find him?  

As Brian rounded the corner, all he saw was this gorgeous blond holding his son steady and the mutt dancing and yapping around their ankles. Brian paused for the briefest of moments, taking in everything from the blond cropped hair down to the slight but muscled build. Brian’s gaydar immediately started to ping, which placed a smirk on his lips, and he raised a brow of inquiry in his manager’s direction, silently asking who this delectable morsel could be.

Upon seeing Brian, Ted immediately introduced their latest applicant for handyman. “Brian, this is Justin Taylor. He’s applied for the handyman position.”

“Is that so, Theodore,” Brian murmured with barely a glance at the man speaking. His eyes were completely focused on the golden delight before him. Brian’s eyes locked onto startled blue. It felt like time stopped as they both stared at each other - for very different reasons.

Justin stared back into green-hazel eyes. He felt a mix of surprised gratification at finding his angel so quickly along with traces of undeniable lust at being in this man’s charismatic presence. Brian’s dick immediately came to attention. The blond was not his usual type but there was something about him. Ted looked between the two, not sure how to break in between the eye-fuck taking place. Luckily, he didn’t have to.

“I’m Brian Kinney, the owner of this club, and this little ruffian is my son, Gus. The four legged tag-along is his brand new puppy, JB.” Brian extended his hand. “Thank you for catching my son. Who knows what kind of trouble he and his mutt could have gotten into.”  

“No problem, Mr. Kinney, Sir. I’m Justin. Justin Taylor,” quantified the blond with a firm, strong hand shake, tingles shooting through his hand, up his arm and directly to his cock from the moment their hands made contact.

Brian felt a thrill of awareness just from the brief clasp of hands with this blond Adonis. That throb translated into a need that went directly to his dick and tightened his balls.

“Theodore, may I see Justin’s application?” Brian demanded, extending his hand to the stodgy manager.

Ted handed over the papers, glancing nervously between his boss and Justin. Brian quickly perused the form, curling his lips under at the lack of information. When his eye landed on the words ‘Sergeant’ and then ‘United States Marine Corp’, Brian looked back up at the applicant, his gaze a little harsher now than it had been before when he was appraising the boy. Brian shook his head, his lips pursing together for a brief moment and then he shoved the papers back at Ted.

“Thank you, Mr. Taylor. We’ll get back to you,” Brian said dismissively and turned on his heel without another look at the young man.

“Brian?” Ted felt the instant change in mood and trotted after his retreating boss, still clutching the application in his hand. “Brian, what’s wrong with this guy? He’s the first applicant we’ve had in two weeks. I mean, it isn’t exactly a glamorous job and the pay we’re offering is for shit, so it’s not likely we’ll have a line of applicants waiting at the door. Besides, I . . . well, I sort of fired Rupert this morning, so we really need someone right away,” Ted was trying to explain in a hushed voice as Brian kept walking steadily away.

“Why the fuck did you fire Rupert without my authorization,” Brian stopped at that particular tidbit of info and turned to stare down his friend and employee.

“I was talking to him about your concerns that repairs seem to be piling up around here and he basically told me that he didn’t have the time to put in on this job any more. He’s got an offer for some construction job at the new mall they’re building. I told him if he couldn’t promise that he’d get our stuff done on schedule then he shouldn’t bother coming back, and, well . . . He said he was outta here . . .” Ted said, trying to justify his impromptu actions. “Besides, this Taylor guy seems okay. He’s really polite and doesn’t seem to care about the crappy pay. I also offered him the apartment upstairs since he just got to town and doesn’t have any place to stay. If he's living on the premises, he'll be much more reliable and will probably get a lot more done than Rupert ever did. I really don’t think we could do much better - at least not on such short notice, Brian.”

“Fine. Whatever. Just . . . keep him out of my hair,” Brian finally caved into Ted’s pleading tone, knowing that they really were in desperate need of somebody as soon as possible. “Gus! Grab that pooch and let’s get out of here.”

Brian rounded up his son without further comment and then hustled his crew out the door. Ted was confused by Brian’s brusque reaction to Justin Taylor, but didn’t want to make a bigger deal out of it than was necessary. Plastering on a benevolent smile, Ted turned back to the waiting young blond. “Well, Justin, it looks like you’re hired. Welcome to Kinnetic Enterprises!”