Perfection

Chapter 8

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The next few days at Kinnetik were misery for everyone. Brian was miserable so he made everyone else miserable too. He didn't hear from Justin, not that he expected to. He made himself stay away from Flanagan's knowing that if he ran into Justin he would have to explain. He wasn't prepared to do that. So, he continued being miserable.

The shoot with the models for High Life Hair Care was being conducted. Brian and the CEO stood watching the models as they were being photographed. The red head was a bit of a comedian and he lifted the spirits of all the others. Both Brian and Mr. Sharpe, or Dick as he wanted to be called, were glad they had selected him. As the combinations went on, one brunet began to stand out and they both knew he was the one.

However, the blonds all seemed rather insipid or too babyish or too blasé. None of them complimented the other two models. As the shoot finished up, Brian waited knowing that his work was not yet done.

"So what did you think?" Dick asked.

"We definitely take that brunet," Brian said gesturing to the one he liked.

"I agree totally," Dick replied. "But I didn't see one of those blonds that was anything to write home about."

Reluctantly Brian had to agree. "That's right, and there was no chemistry with the others."

"Exactly, so what do we do?"

"I'm running out of people to choose from," Brian admitted.

"Well, try again. Drag in some guy off the street if you have to. I'll be in to see you tomorrow." Dick turned and walked away.

"Right, Mr. Sharpdick," Brian muttered. That's what he'd taken to calling the CEO. But he also knew the man was right. "Let's wrap this," Brian said to the photographer. "I may need you again in a day or two. Are you available?"

When everything was finished, they had another shoot booked for three days later. The brunet was signed. All Brian had to do was find the blond. At that thought another blond popped into Brian's head. Justin Taylor!

Brian headed back to his office. When he arrived he asked Cynthia to find anything on Justin Taylor that she could come up with. A few minutes later Cynthia deposited a file on Brian's desk.

"Justin Taylor," she said.

"Thanks."

"Are you thinking of him for the hair care line?"

"Um…" Brian hesitated. That hadn't really been what he was thinking of. "What do you think of him for High Life?" he asked out of curiosity.

"I think he's got the look that Sharpe might go for."

"You do?" Brian frowned.

"He's pert and handsome, but also kind of boy next door with just a hint of sophistication."

"Is that what you see?"

"Yes," Cynthia laughed. "What do you see?"

"An over the hill Calvin Klein underwear model."

"Brian, that was really cruel. It's a good thing you don't know the poor guy."

"Yeah, you're right." Brian did feel strange about what he had said but he was paraphrasing Justin himself.

"Do you want me to get in touch with him?"

"No, not yet. Let's see what Mr. Sharpdick thinks of him and these other two I've come up with."

Brian held out two files to Cynthia. She leafed through them.

"What do you think?" Brian asked curious as to what she would answer.

"Taylor has them both beat."

Brian felt the smile that crept across his face. He couldn't stop it.

"What?" Cynthia asked.

"Nothing," Brian smirked.

"What are you not telling me?" Cynthia asked staring at her boss.

"Don't you have some work to do?"

"Okay, okay, I get the point. You don't want to discuss this. I'm going." Cynthia quietly walked out of the office, but she couldn't help but wonder what her boss was up to.

Brian smiled wider. It was good working with Cynthia. She knew him so well, knew when to back off. But what the fuck was he going to do about Justin Taylor? The smile left Brian's face as he pondered what might happen if Mr. Sharpdick actually liked the looks of Justin Taylor for his model. That could prove very interesting or very … weird.

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The following morning Brian was up in the art department checking some artwork when Cynthia paged him.

"Mr. Sharpe is here. I left him in your office."

"Thanks, I'll be right down."

When Brian walked into his office minutes later, Mr. Sharpdick was sitting in Brian's chair going through the files of the possible models.

"Excuse me," Brian said making his annoyance at Sharpe's audacity clear.

"I didn't think you'd mind if I got a head start. I like all three, but this one seems to have something special," Sharpe said holding up Justin's picture.

Brian drew in a breath. "I'm not sure we can get him."

"Why the fuck not?!" Sharpe demanded, his anger at the statement clear.

"I don't think he's modeling anymore."

"Then get him out of retirement, unless he looks like a fucking zombie. I think he could be the one."

"He doesn't look … bad, but I don't think he'd be interested," Brian sighed.

"Then why was the fucking picture on your desk?" Sharpe demanded.

"It was something I was considering, but it won't work. If you hadn't been going through the things on my desk, you never would have known about him," Brian said caustically.

Rather than take offence at Brian's tone, Sharpe smiled and said, "Well, I do know about him. Make sure he's at the next photo shoot." With that he stood and walked out of the office.

Brian walked around his desk and sank into the vacated chair. It wasn't easy trying to work with a fucking prick like Sharpe. He knew what he wanted and wouldn't let anything stand in his way, just like … Brian used to be.

"Fucking prick!" Brian stated as the door closed behind Mr. Sharpdick.

He picked up the photo of Justin and looked at the familiar face with the gentle smile. Now he was going to have to call Justin, and then he somehow had to convince him to attend the photo session.

"Fuck!"

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Brian sat at Flanagan's nursing a beer. As much as he would have liked to get drunk, he knew he better be sober. He was waiting to see if Justin Taylor would show up for a drink. He hadn't called the man. He had tried to a couple of times, but each time he started to dial Justin's number, his heart started pounding and he put the phone back down. He was hoping Justin would appear and take away the necessity of Brian calling him.

By eleven-thirty and three beers under his belt, Brian was sure Justin wasn't going to show up on his own. Reluctantly he took out his cell phone and dialed.

"Hello?"

"Justin?"

"Is that you, Brian?"

"Yeah."

"I never expected to hear from you again."

Brian could hear the hurt in Justin's voice. "I'm at Flanagan's. Could … um … would you consider having a drink with me?"

There was a long period of silence. Brian wondered if Justin had hung up or had a coronary at the unexpected request.

"Are you still there, Justin?"

"I'm here."

"So, will you join me?"

"I don't think so."

Brian sighed. He'd half expected that answer. "I … I have a business proposition for you," Brian said as a last resort.

"A business proposition? Is that what this call is about … business?"

"Well, yeah, kind of." Brian could almost hear the steam escaping from Justin's ears.

"You fucking called me and asked me to join you … for business?"

"Um … well, yes."

"Well, fuck you, Kinney!"

The line went dead and Brian let out an involuntary groan. He stared at his cell phone for a couple of minutes before he finally closed it and slipped it into his pocket. Not only had he just got shit from Justin, he was going to get crucified by Mr. Sharpdick in the morning.

Brian signaled to Casey to bring him a boilermaker. He definitely needed something stronger than the beer he'd been drinking. Maybe when he finished the boilermaker he should go outside and see if he could find a speeding bus to run him down.

"Fuck!"

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When he finished his drink, Brian decided that he would cruise on over to the address where he knew Justin's apartment was located. It wasn't hard to find. Pulling into a parking space near the front door, Brian stared up at the windows. Many were dark but a few still revealed lights aglow. He didn't know which apartment was Justin's, but he was about to find out.

He got out of his car, grabbed the folder that had been on the table at Flanagan's waiting for Justin to appear, and walked up to the door. Taking a deep breath he pushed open the heavy outside door. Inside the tiny area between that door and the locked one in front of him, Brian saw the list of tenants on a board beside a phone. He noted the list of codes to punch in to connect to the desired person. He hit the numbers for Justin Taylor.

"Yes?" the familiar voice asked.

"I need to talk to you," Brian said.

"I thought I told you to fuck off."

"You did."

"Then what are you doing here?"

"Groveling."

"Groveling?"

Brian could hear the almost giggle as Justin said that. "How am I doing so far?"

"I don't hear a whole lot of groveling, just you saying that's what you're doing."

"Please, Justin, I ask you on bended knee to let me in, please, please, please," Brian cooed doing his best imitation of sincere and contrite.

The giggle came across the speaker before Justin could say, "That's more like it. Come on up, you big dope. Fourth floor."

The buzz of the door told Brian that the lock had been released. He entered the elevator and made his way up to the fourth floor. When he stepped off the elevator, he saw Justin standing in the open doorway of his apartment just a short distance from the elevator. He quickly covered the distance to smile into the face he'd grown to like so much.

"Can I come in?" Brian asked.

"Well, since you're here." Justin stepped aside so that Brian could enter.

"Not bad," Brian said looking around and taking in the quality of the furnishings. They were modern, but also very homey. He liked the place. It said "Justin Taylor".

"I brought the furniture from my place in New York," Justin explained. "I had to downsize some."

"That's too bad. But you've made the place your own."

Justin smiled in spite of himself. "You're quite a sweet talker when you want to be."

"That's me, a silver tongued devil."

"You got the devil part right anyway," Justin laughed.

Brian stuck his tongue in his cheek and stared at the man. He hoped the false bravado hid his churning stomach.

"So," Justin said, "would you like a beer before you explain what the hell you're doing here?"