Chapter 17 - Solecism.
"Remind me again why the fuck we're doing this," Brian demanded of the blonde woman hanging on his arm wearing the fake social smile and nodding to yet another couple of doddering grey haired old coots.
"Because," Lindsey replied in a strained voice. "You know I'm not out to my parents yet, Brian. Although, from the way they acted when they told me they were going to be throwing me this huge Graduation Party at the Country Club, and made sure to emphasize that I was expected to bring an 'acceptable' date, I think they might just be starting to suspect something. I bet the housekeeper told my mother about the last time she caught Patty Lavelle and me in bed together.
"So what? You and your sorority sister were sleeping in the same bed. What's the big deal?" Brian was confused. "Don't you giggly girls always do shit like that?"
"Well, yes . . . But, then again, we giggly girls don't always get caught sucking on each other's breasts while we're in bed together," Lindsey replied with a slightly embarrassed and at the same time slightly proud gleam in her eye.
"Ah! That's a whole other kettle of fishiness, Ms. Peterson," Brian chuckled at his friend. "That explains the need for the beard for you. But, remind me why the fuck I agreed to be part of this?"
"Because, you wanted to hobnob with your new boss' rich, hoity-toity friends and suck up to him before you've even started your job. And Marty Ryder just happens to belong to the same Club as my parents." Lindsey parroted back to him what Brian had told her already several times that night.
"Yeah, well, so far Ryder hasn't shown up, your father has cornered me twice to press as to what my 'intentions' are towards you and, except when I've been busy fighting off smelly old dowagers who seem to think it's ok to pinch my cheeks, I've been pretty much bored to death all night," Brian commented as they finally made it to the bar and both accepted glasses of white wine. "I'm starting to regret that I agreed to this bogus arrangement. I can't believe ANYONE does this on a regular basis. I don't care how many contacts you can supposedly pick up in a place like this. I think I'll pass on the country club membership."
"Yeah, well, welcome to my world," Lindsay mumbled as they were approached by yet another set of her parents' friends coming to congratulate them.
Despite how uncomfortable he felt, Brian was still proud that he hadn't yet made a fool out of himself even in this alien environment. For a poor Mick from the wrong side of the tracks, Brian thought he was doing quite a good job of assimilating into country club society. It looked like Lindsey's frantic last minute etiquette lessons were going to pay off. And even though it truly was the dullest evening he'd experienced in years, Brian was convinced it was good experience for his future profession.
Well, all except for the pretending to be straight part. He really didn't want to get good at that. He was so tired of being accosted by stodgy old couples coming up and complimenting him on what a cute couple he and Lindsey made, or asking how long they'd been dating, or where they met. Brian felt like, if he didn't keep his guard up, these folks would have him married off to Lindz before the end of the night. He knew Lindsey came to these things all the time and he didn't know how she put up with it.
Yeah, Brian hadn't exactly come out to his own parents yet either, but that was because he couldn't care less about their opinions of his lifestyle. He'd barely spoken to them since he'd started college, and if he was lucky, he'd never have to see either Jack or Joan Kinney again. But Lindsey still saw her parents weekly. And for all their snobbish ways, he didn't think the Petersons would do anything to her once she did come out. The only repercussion would probably be them trying to hush it all up in order to avoid a loss of social standing. Lindsey seemed terrified though of what would happen.
So, here Brian was, wasting a whole night playing straight for Lindsey's 'rents, and he couldn't really even figure out why. But the falsity of the whole thing was really starting to grate on him. Brian just couldn't see himself living like this. Pretending the way Lindsey had been. What was the point? What was the benefit she got out of it? She had to put up with hours and hours of acting like someone she wasn't, either telling lies about her life or obfuscating her way around the truth. Just so that her parents wouldn't have to face a truth they might find embarrassing?
Fuck that! Brian couldn't see himself playing these types of games. It was degrading. And as he watched Lindsey simpering and smiling and telling yet another nosy old biddy that she and Brian had been friends at school for ages - implying with a wink and a coy tilt of her head that they'd been more than just friends that entire time - Brian vowed that this was the very last time he'd agree to participate in this kind of charade. He might not parade his sexuality in front of people that he knew would disapprove, but he certainly wasn't going to hide it either. And he was never again going to pretend to be straight, not even for a friend like Lindsey.
". . . Our Lindsey here IS quite a catch, you know," Brian tuned back into the conversation just as the most recent know-it-all started in on her reasons why Brian and Lindsey should be married and begin breeding forthwith - provoking Brian to within a heartbeat of announcing that he really preferred cock himself.
"Oh, look. Marty Ryder and his wife just arrived," Lindsey - who must have noticed the defiance rising in Brian - redirected everyone's attention just in time. "Brian's starting at the Ryder Agency right after graduation, you know. You'll have to excuse us so we can go say hello." Lindz made a hasty apology and an even hastier retreat with Brian in tow.
"Nice save, Lindz," Brian commented wryly while his 'date' glared at him disapprovingly.
"Please, Brian. Just an hour or so more. That's all I ask. Can you please just make it through that long without embarrassing me?" Lindsey almost begged.
"I'll try, Lindz. But these stupid, closed-minded snobs don't make it fucking easy." Brian answered. "Oh, and can you please tell me why, if it's a graduation party for YOU, only your parents friends seem to have been invited? Where the fuck are YOUR friends? Isn't there anyone in this club who's under 25?" Brian looked around and then re-adjusted his assessment. "Make that under 50?"
Lindsay didn't bother to respond. There really wasn't any good answer to Brian's question. He just didn't understand the way things were done in the country club set. Of course her graduation party was really just an opportunity for her father and mother to impress their friends. Wasn't that just how things were done? The younger people would have their own celebration later, after the adults had retired for the night. But until then, Lindsay knew her duty was to play the part of the dutiful daughter, impress her parents friends and provide them with an object that they could show off. It was all part of the game that she had grown up playing, and Brian would never understand that he was just one more of the accessories in her costume for the evening. It was just easier, and less likely to cause problems, if she didn't have to explain it to him.
Which is why both Lindsey and Brian were glad for the distraction when they finally arrived at the table where Marty Ryder and the rest of his party had been seated. Brian greeted his new boss, before the older man turned to begin introductions to the rest of his group. It quickly appeared, however, that not many introductions would be needed. It seemed that Brian was already familiar with many of the table's occupants.
"Brian! I didn't know you were coming with Lindsey," Winnie Taylor sprouted jubilantly from her place near the far end of the large table as soon as she saw her old friend. "Uncle Marty, you don't have to introduce Brian - we've known each other since high school. He's already met my dad. And of course, Uncle Gil has been his coach at Pitt for the past four years."
That left only the wives of Marty, Gareth, and Gil, who hadn't yet met this friend of Winnie's yet - as well as another couple who looked to be in their late 30s or early 40s, and who were eventually introduced as Winnie's other Uncle, Four, and his wife. Brian politely greeted everyone, while Lindsey and Winnie whispered quietly between themselves. It was obvious from the way the two girls kept looking in Brian's direction while they were talking, that he was the primary topic of their conversation. From the disapproving looks that Winnie was also shooting at Lindsey, Brian figured that she wasn't very happy with her sorority sister.
Brian spent a few moments chatting with his future employer, trying his best not to sound like a greedy, ass kissing, sycophant, while at the same time spreading on the Kinney charm as thick as he dared. He also spent a minute or two joking with Coach Gil, thanking Winnie's father for helping him get the interview with Marty Ryder, and then, thinking that he'd done his duty for the night, quickly excused himself. Brian headed directly back to the bar, more than ready to get some additional liquid fortification into his belly after this particularly long dull evening and hopefully have a minute or two to himself.
Brian ordered a double scotch on the rocks from the hispanic-looking bartender, who was quick to fill a tumbler with the pungent amber liquid but slow to release the drink into Brian’s grip when he handed the glass over and their fingers touched briefly with a spark of electricity. Ahhhhh! Now, THAT was more like it! Finally, he’d found something interesting in this dreary old mausoleum. Brian nodded at Ricky - the name supplied by the tag the young bartender was wearing - and made a mental note to keep an eye on his new find. If there was any way possible to work it, Brian would be ending his evening here at this bar with little Ricky for company rather than heading into the lounge for a nightcap with Ron Peterson.
“I don’t think he’s gay, you know,” a voice from the vicinity of Brian’s elbow interrupted further contemplation of Ricky and Ricky’s ass as the server bent over to pull another rack of clean glasses out from under the bar.
“Uh . . . Pardon?” Brian turned to find a familiar blond brat looking up at him from his perch on the next barstool over.
“Ricky . . . I don’t think he’s actually gay. He just flirts with EVERYONE here cause it gets him better tips. You should see the way he fawns over my mother sometimes. So, if you were thinking about trying to get in his pants, you’ll probably be disappointed.” The blond youngster explained further, before returning his attention to the soft drink he was sipping.
Brian hadn’t yet said anything in reply. Not because he was shocked by the revelation that Ricky wasn’t gay and was just schmoozing him for tips. And not because he was at all surprised to have been spoken to by the smart-assed, tow-headed, pre-teen. But because this slender, scraggly youth was pretty much the last person on the planet that Brian wanted to talk to. Well, the last except for the OTHER, slightly older, blond youth sitting beside young Jesse.
Justin.
It must be a conspiracy or something, the way this kid - Winnie’s cousin, Jesse - kept turning up in his life. Brian had long ago resigned himself to the fact that his spectral blond boy guardian was always going to be popping in and out of his awareness, but it was a completely different matter to now have this flesh and blood blond doing the same thing. And how the fuck was Brian supposed to keep Justin and everything Justin meant corralled safety away from his consciousness in the compartment Brian had constructed specifically for him, if Jesse - the only other person alive who apparently could also see and speak to Justin - kept dragging the matter to the forefront of Brian’s awareness.
Brian didn’t want to think about this right now. He didn’t want to think about it ever, really. Justin wasn’t real. He couldn’t be real. He was just something Brian’s fucked up mind had cooked up when he was a lonely little kid . . . Right? If Brian approached this anomaly like that, it was easy to explain and Brian didn’t have to think about it in any depth. And on the rare occasions when Brian slipped up and let himself acknowledge Justin’s presence because he was feeling depressed or scared or lonely - like last week when he’d had no one to celebrate his big job announcement with and had fallen back on the company of his old fantasy friend - he could still justify that and later shove the whole experience back down deep in his subconscious where it could hide with all the other shit Brian tried not to think about.
But every time Brian ran into Jesse, he was forced to think about it again, and Brian did not like that at all.
Brian was already looking around frantically, trying to come up with some good excuse to bolt, when Jesse's laughter broke through his momentary panic. “Chill, Dude. I don’t bite or anything. You don’t have to run away screaming.” Then Jesse turned to his right and addressed Justin directly. “This guy’s way too uptight. Why the hell do you put up with him, Jus?”
Before Justin could reply, though, Brian hissed, “Don’t DO that! Someone will see you.”
Jesse and Justin both looked up at Brian with confusion. “Don’t do what?” Jesse asked.
“You can’t just talk to someone who’s not there like that. If someone saw you they’d think you were nuts. You can’t . . .” Brian was already looking around him to determine if anyone was watching them.
“Don’t sweat it, man. Everyone here already knows I’m the crazy kid who talks to himself. Luckily, my family has gobs of money so nobody gives me any shit about it.” Jesse smiled over at Brian with a conspiratorial look. “Of course, you might not want to be seen hanging out with me - crazy could be contagious, you know. Or at least that’s what most of these idiots think anyway. But, I don’t really care. At least my parents believe me and that’s all that really matters. And, anyway, you’ve already caught the crazy yourself, haven’t you? If seeing dead people means you’re insane, then you’ve been on your way to the looney bin for a lot longer than I have. Isn’t that right, Brian?”
“I’m NOT fucking crazy!” Brian hissed loudly at the boy, before self-consciously lowering his voice and continuing. “I’m not crazy. And, I don’t see . . .” Brian’s words sputtered out as he found himself staring into the caring, bright blue eyes that he’d known all his life - he couldn’t finish that sentence honestly. “I’m not crazy,” he repeated instead.
“It’s okay, Brian,” Justin stood up and moved around the back of Jesse’s chair so he could be near to Brian for at least one more second - touch his arm, breathe in Brian’s aftershave, and feel the warmth of his skin for just a moment longer. “I understand. I’ll go. I don’t want you to feel uncomfortable. I just wanted to see how you were doing . . .” Justin turned to Jesse, gave his eleven-year-old nephew a weak smile and then faded from sight.
“Way to go, Asshole!” Jesse shook his head at Brian. “You didn’t have to chase him away like that. Some friend you are! And NOW who the fuck am I going to talk to while I have to wait here for my folks to finish hobnobbing? Shit!”
“Jesse! Language! If your folks catch you talking like that you’ll be grounded for another two weeks,” Lindsey came up behind Brian and slipped her arm through his, catching just the very tail end of Jesse’s angry retort. “Sorry for abandoning you, Brian. Although I see you’ve made a new friend all on your own. Jesse is SUPPOSED to be downstairs in the Youth Lounge, though. Aren’t you, Jesse?”
“Yeah, right! And do what? Babysit my sister? Please. I’d rather be up here bored to tears listening to all these old codgers complain about how the country is going to hell than down there with all the babies.” Jesse smiled impishly at Lindsey and raised his coke to her in a mock toast, then turned his bratty smile back on the tall brunet man. “Besides, Brian and I were just getting better acquainted, weren’t we, Bud? Turns out we know a lot of the same people.”
“Don’t mind Jesse,” Lindsey turned all her fawning attention back to Brian, ignoring the boy who she disdained as just another annoying child, albeit, this annoying child was a little more annoying than most. “He’s . . . special. But he’s completely harmless.”
*Hahahaha* Jesse broke out into loud, not entirely pleasant laughter. “By ‘special’, she means crazy, of course. Only, rich people don’t have crazy relatives or friends. We’re ‘special’ or ‘different’ or ‘a little off’. But what she doesn’t know . . . Right, Brian?”
“Fuck you!” Brian spat, fed up with the boy’s antics, and desperately afraid that the kid was about to say something to Lindsey that Brian wouldn’t be able to just blow off.
Brian turned his back on the kid and waved to the flirty bartender for another scotch. And after slamming that glassful, he demanded another. Lindsey was looking at him with embarrassment, trying to make sure that she positioned her own body so as to shield him from the ever present eyes of the rest of the club, who would undoubtedly be watching her and her ‘date’.
“Brian! Brian, please. That’s enough for now,” Lindsey gave Ricky a meaningful look before he could fill Brian’s glass for a third time. “Just ignore Jesse. Everyone else does. Now, come back to the table - my mother wants to introduce us to Mr. and Mrs. Peabody.”
“You know what, Lindz? Fuck your mother and the Peabodys and everyone else at this pretentious, pompous, overblown confederation of conservative assholes.” Brian had had enough of the social niceties and pretending to be someone he wasn’t - he’d also had enough of Jesse and his innuendos. It was time for a strategic retreat. “This isn’t you, Lindz. And it’s definitely not ME! I don’t know how you can stand this? But I’ve had more than enough. I’m out of here. I’m going to go out and get totally shitfaced drunk and probably do something completely inappropriate that would shock your parents’ friends. And, if you know what’s good for you, you’ll come with me, because this ‘party’ sucks big, hairy, lumpy lesbian tits.”
“But, Brian . . . I . . . I can’t just leave . . .” Lindsey was looking around her at the mostly older and very conservative crowd that was milling through in the Country Club’s main dining room, and was hard pressed to deny anything Brian had just said.
“Yes, Lindsey, you can. It’s easy. Come on. I’ll show you how.” Brian took Lindsey by the elbow and - with one last smirk at Jesse, who was chuckling to himself on his barstool - towed her out of the room, past her gaping, shocked-looking parents and straight out the front doors of the club.
~**~**~**~
*Uhhhnnnnn* The groaning coming from the warm body next to Brian was what eventually woke him up the next morning. It wasn't, by any means, the first time he'd woken up in a strange room and not immediately remembered where he was or how he got there. However, it WAS the first time he'd woken up in a bed covered by a hot pink comforter, matching hot pink sheets, with lacy pink curtains framing the window through which the too-bright sunshine was streaming into his eyes, and with a pair of what appeared to be very frilly, fuchsia pink women's panties lying on the pillow about three inches from his face. Brian grimaced, picked up the panties and threw them as far away from himself as possible.
Taking a deep breath and then blowing it out loudly, Brian cinched up his courage and rolled himself over to see what, exactly, he’d gotten himself into this time.
The body next to his was partially obscured by a sheet that was covering it’s lower half. The face, which was turned away from him to start with, was covered almost completely with a tangle of long blonde hair. The only part of what he could see that did tell Brian something significant was the naked breasts that were on display front and center right in front of his disbelieving eyes.
There was also that used condom that was stuck by way of a patch of dried semen to the torso right below one of the naked breasts to further attest to what had obviously happened in the bed sometime the previous night.
Brian scrunched up his nose in disgust and bit his bottom lip to squelch the epithet he wanted to shout. He really didn’t want to wake up the owner of the breasts, if at all possible. He wasn’t sure he could deal with that on top of the horrible pounding hangover headache he was already fighting. What he really wanted to do was to run away screaming as fast as he legs could carry him, but he knew that wouldn’t fix things. Sooner or later he would have to face the consequences of whatever had happened here - if Jack had taught him nothing else it was that a real man always dealt with the consequences of his actions no matter how bad the position he’d got himself into. And this was definitely looking pretty bad.
Brian let his head fall back against the atrociously pink pillow and tried his best to reconstruct the night before. The last thing he remembered clearly was when he and Lindsey left that ridiculously pretentious excuse for a Graduation Party. On the way back to campus, they had stopped off at a liquor store and picked up a bottle of Jim Beam for him and a bottle of Peppermint Schnapps for Lindsey. From the sickly, over-sweet, stale-mint taste in his mouth, Brian surmised that he must have helped out drinking the schnapps. But that was really all he remembered clearly. By the time they’d made it back to the dorms, Brian’s earlier excesses at the Country Club had already started to catch up with him. The rest of the night was a blurry mess filled with swirling lights, long blonde hair and . . .
Brian looked over his right shoulder again and then, with very tentative fingers, reached out to lift up a hank of the blonde hair covering the face of his companion. The owner of the hair shifted right at that moment and the face rolled towards him. Brian could no longer deny that the owner of the hair - and the naked breasts - was Lindsey Peterson.
If he hadn’t felt like puking from his hangover before, he certainly did now.
Lindsey let out a very voluble snorting snore and then flopped over towards him, attempting to snuggle up to his side. Brian cringed away from the touch. Apparently he wasn’t above a little experimentation with the wrong sex when he was too drunk to see straight, but no fucking way was he going to let those naked breasts come near him when he was stone cold sober. Ick!
Trying to move carefully so that he wouldn’t wake up the snoring, still-half-drunk blonde, Brian inched his way out of the bed and hurriedly grabbed whatever clothing he could find. He pulled on his pants and shirt but didn’t bother trying to find his briefs or socks. He only saw one shoe but decided it wasn’t worth searching for the other - he’d get new shoes. Right after he burned all the clothing he’d been wearing, spent about an hour in the shower trying to wash away the very thought of touching a woman THAT way, and then consumed a gallon or two of mouthwash to try and get rid of the taste of the schnapps. And then he was going to get as stoned as possible before going back to sleep - in his own, female-free bed.
Hopefully, by the time he woke up sometime the next day, he would have forgotten everything about the last twenty four hours.
As Brian slunk out of Lindsey’s room and made his way over to the stairwell that led up to the men’s floor and his own room, he tried to ignore the other blond that was watching him from the end of the hallway with a very disapproving, sad expression. Fucking Justin! If it hadn’t been for him and his little buddy, Jesse, stalking him, Brian wouldn’t have been in this situation. He wouldn’t have felt so threatened. So worried about being exposed. And wouldn’t have started drinking so heavily. Right? It was all Justin’s fault . . .
Except that Brian knew it really wasn’t anyone’s fault but his own.
He paused at the doorway to the stairs and looked at the ephemeral blond beauty who was just standing there, staring at him, but not saying a word. If he felt the echo of his own loneliness looking back at him from out of those penetrating blue eyes, he refused to acknowledge it. If he maybe even had the momentary, fleeting thought that he would have much prefered waking up in bed with THAT particular blond instead of Lindsey, he brushed the idea away. It didn’t matter how isolated or set apart Brian felt - he couldn’t let himself give in to that fantasy. He wouldn’t let himself be sucked into that morass. He knew it wasn’t real. That he wasn’t made to be loved or have whatever fantasy Justin’s presence might promise.
It wasn’t real. It wasn’t meant for Brian. And he wouldn’t let himself even think about it.
With a self-deprecatory snort and a shake of his head, Brian slammed open the metal fire door and disappeared up the stairs towards his own room without another glance back at the silent blond fantasy watching his retreating back.