~**~**~**~**~
Chapter 25 - Frustration.
“Shit, Joselito . . .” Justin whined to his primary ally as he finally pulled the covers up over Brian's snoring form. “Why does it always feel like we're going two steps forward and then three steps back?”
The exhausted blond spirit guide bent to leave a kiss on his charge’s forehead but then crinkled up his nose at the less than pleasant aroma wafting up off the inebriated man and thought better of it. Instead, Justin went back into the bathroom, used the wet towel to mop up the mess on the floor, cleaned the splatters of puke off the seat of the toilet and then threw the towels along with Brian's booze drenched clothing into the washing machine. In his incorporealness, he couldn't actually start the damned washing machine, but he figured he'd done enough already. Brian could do his own fucking laundry as soon as he woke from his alcohol induced stupor in the morning. Assuming Brian’s head didn't explode first from the no doubt horrendous hangover he was going to have.
Justin made his way back to the bedroom, crawled up onto the bed next to Brian’s inert form and sat there, cross-legged, staring at the man. Jose jumped up to join him, curling up on Justin’s lap with a sorry ‘mew’. Neither the cat nor the boy knew what to do with their man. This self-destructive behavior was becoming seriously dangerous. And there seemed no way to stop it.
Justin figured he probably should have seen this coming. After Winnie had left Brian’s office the afternoon before, followed by the ensuing make out session they’d shared, Justin should have known that Brian would act out in reaction. It had been too good to be true, so Justin should have known it wasn’t going to last.
Brian always had to overthink things. He always had to second guess anything good that happened to him. He couldn’t just accept that Justin was truly there for him and loved him. Because Brian knew he was unlovable. So, of course, if anyone showed him any affection, he had to fight it. He had to keep people out for fear he’d get hurt again if he let them in. Which meant it was inevitable that Brian would overreact to the happy, peaceful, loving interlude by going out after work, drinking himself into a stupor, fucking everything with a dick that stood still long enough to grab hold of, and doing a whole alphabet of drugs.
“Stupid, lonely, insecure, beautiful mess . . .” Justin proclaimed as he ran his fingers through the sweaty and matted auburn mop. “Don’t think you’re getting rid of me that easily, though. I’m onto you, Brian. I won’t let you sabotage yourself. I won’t. Not when I’m so close.”
Even in his sleep though, Brian fought against the comfort that Justin was offering. The drunken brunet shrugged away from the hand petting his head, grunting incoherently and rolling away from his bed mate. Justin stubbornly scooted closer, shifting the cat so that he could spoon up to Brian’s back, and cuddling the man who now seemed to be in the grip of an unpleasant dream.
“No . . . Don’t . . . Don’t touch me . . .” Brian mumbled in his sleep, his head shaking back and forth and his shoulders hunching to protect himself from whatever unseen force was after him. “Don’t, don’t, don’t . . .”
“Shhh, Brian. Shhh. It’s okay. I’m here, buddy. You’re okay,” Justin whispered, falling easily back into the nonsense comfort words he’d offered up so many times in Brian’s past whenever the boy needed consolation. “I’m here for you, Brian. Nothing will ever keep me away from you. Not even you,” Justin murmured directly into the shell of Brian’s ear and sealing the promise in with a kiss.
That seemed to be sufficient for the time being to reassure the man and pull him back from the edge of his nightmare. With one last shuddering breath, Brian settled down into a quieter sleep cycle. Justin held on even then, though. He was determined never to let go. He would somehow find a way to fix things for his Brian.
He had to.
~**~**~**~
“I don't know what the fuck good you think this is going to do, Justin,” Brian complained for the tenth time.
Justin looked from the pouting man standing on the porch steps to the antique glass front door of Mel and Lindsey’s house. He was actually surprised he'd managed to get Brian this far. If he hadn't been so fatigued after five successive days worth of massive hangovers, Justin probably wouldn't have been able to guilt Brian into coming at all. Not that he was going to be even a tiny bit receptive in his current mood. But Justin was determined to keep pushing nonetheless.
“It can’t hurt to just listen to what the girls have to say, can it? Plus, you could use a good home cooked meal for a change instead of greasy takeout topped off by a liter of alcohol. Trust me, your liver will thank you for taking this one night off,” Justin insisted as he physically lifted up Brian's hand and used the man’s fingertip to press the doorbell, laughing at himself and his creative solution to not being wholly solid.
“I don’t care what they say,” Brian insisted for what felt like the hundredth time. “I’m not interested in making their heteronormative baby dreams come true. I DON’T need that kind of shit in my life, Justin. Lindsey can talk all she wants but I’m not buying what she’s selling.”
Luckily, Justin was spared the duty to try and argue with Brian about the topic when Lindsey opened the door and greeted Brian with a glowing smile. Brian merely rolled his eyes at the over the top obsequiousness and let himself be led inside.
“I’m so happy that you agreed to come for dinner tonight, Brian,” Lindsey gushed, seating herself on the sofa next to her long time friend and then ordering Melanie to bring Brian a glass of the scotch they’d purchased especially for him. “We hardly ever have time to really talk anymore, you know? Not like when we were in college at any rate.”
“Lindsey, we’ve been out of college for more than six years. Isn’t it past time to give up the whole reminiscing over past glories thing? How pathetic can you be?” Brian groused even as he accepted the tumbler of scotch from Mel and then took a first swig.
“It’s not ‘pathetic’. I just think it’s fun to remember all the good times we had together. It’s a great way to make sure we don’t forget how we came to be such good friends in the first place,” Lindsey insisted, accepting a glass of white wine from her partner at the same time. “You can’t deny that we had a lot of fun together back in the day.” Lindsey laughed in her usual falsely-friendly way and leaned in to accentuate her statement with a kiss to Brian’s cheek.
“Fuck, Lindz! Can we at least eat dinner first before we start in with kissing his ass,” Mel commented acerbically, shaking her head as she stood there looking down at the cozy pair on the couch.
“Mel. You promised to try and be nice,” Lindsey warned.
“Well, there's nice and then there's ass licking, which is something I don't even want to contemplate where this asshole’s involved,” Mel mumbled into her own glass of Cabernet as she lowered herself into their big, comfy armchair.
“If it’s any consolation, Mel, I don’t want to ever think about you rimming me either,” Brian offered with his customary snark. “If I did, I might never get hard again. So, please, let’s move on from the unnecessary ass kissing and all discussions thereof and cut to the chase so I can get out of this inquisition that I was forced to come to against my will.” Brian directed a malevolent glare towards the unseen blond boy hovering in the corner of the room, in response to which, Justin merely smiled and winked at him. “So, you want my baby makers and think you can somehow convince me this isn’t the worst idea of the century, right? I’ll give you ten minutes. Hit me with your best argument, Lindz.”
“Brian . . . I don’t know why you’re already so set against the idea. And it would NOT be the biggest mistake of the century. It will be beautiful. Just think of it, a sweet, happy, cuddly baby. How could that ever be mistake,” Lindz insisted, her eyes already glazing over at the images of cherubic bundles of goo dancing through her baby-crazed brain.
“Besides, you can’t have a ‘mistake’ baby where two lesbians and a gay guy are concerned. By definition, that’s pretty close to impossible,” Mel, the always precise and rational one, pointed out.
“You're not helping, Mel,” Lindsey rolled her eyes and shook her head before turning back to Brian. “There are so many reasons why this is a really good idea, Brian. Mel and I have been thinking about this and discussing it for a long time. We really want this and now is the perfect time. Financially, we’re in a good place right now. Mel’s career is established enough that she’s bringing in pretty good money and I can easily take a few months off from my teaching job after the baby’s born. We don’t want to wait too long before starting a family - I’m already twenty-eight and that’s on the late side for having a first child, you know. So, from a timing standpoint, now is just the right time.”
“Great. Good for you. So go have all the babies you want. Just don’t involve me in your plans,” Brian shot back, determined not to be netted in their crazy schemes.
“But don't you see, Brian? You’d make the perfect donor. You’ve got such great genes! You’re handsome and strong and healthy. Together, you and I would make such beautiful little babies,” Lindsey simpered, causing Mel to scoff into her wine glass. “Can’t you just see it - a beautiful little boy with your chestnut hair and big hazel eyes? Or a pretty little girl with your gorgeous long eyelashes and that amazing bone structure you have? Growing up so tall and graceful, just like you,” Lindsey continued, laying on the flattery and stroking Brian’s ego with expert precision. “Not to mention your brains - just think how smart our kids would be. With intelligence like that, along with your natural charm, he or she will end up ruling the world,” she teased, but with enough sincerity to make her hyperbole almost believable, even for a skeptic like Brian.
Well, almost . . . Brian made the mistake of glancing over at Mel at the end of Lindsey’s acclamations and noted that the other potential parent of this imaginary prodigy was scowling into her wine glass, clearly not on board with all of her partner’s plans. When she caught Brian looking at her, Mel tilted her head, shrugged and stared back at him, but didn’t say anything. That gave him pause enough to realize that Lindsey’s flattery was just that, a well-calculated maneuver designed to woo him over. The Ad Man should have recognized when he was being sold a bill of goods.
Lindsey, though, had missed the silent exchange between her partner and her prospective Baby Daddy and was already moving on to her next point. “. . . I know you’re hesitant because you never planned on something like this, so I want to assure you that you wouldn’t have any responsibilities at all, if you didn’t want them. You can be as involved - or uninvolved - in the baby’s life as you want, Brian. We wouldn’t expect anything. You can go on with your carefree, studly life, without worrying, if that’s what you like. Mel and I will be the baby’s parents and you won’t have to lift a finger.”
“We would have you sign over your parental rights to me as soon as the baby is born,” Mel spoke up finally, adding her legal expertise to the discussion. “That way you couldn’t legally be required to provide support or anything else and I would have the same rights as a birth parent. That part is non-negotiable.”
“See? Like I said,” Lindsey cut in, trying to soften the harsh tone that Mel’s words had injected into the conversation, “you’d have absolutely no responsibilities. It wouldn’t impact your life at all. Not if you didn’t want it to. You could go on being the Stud of Liberty Avenue and no one would even have to know.”
“Frankly, the less involvement you have with the kid, the better, if you ask me,” Mel piped up, unable to hold back her opinion any longer. “Personally, I would prefer to go through an agency and use some anonymous sperm donor. That way there would be no possibility of entanglement. Lindsey, however is dead set against that idea and, since I want her to be happy, I’m willing to go along with this idea. But I just want you to know, Kinney, Lindz and I would be this child's parents for all intents and purposes. Considering your background and lifestyle, I’d rather your role in this be minimal. Good genes or not, you’re the last person I’d want helping to raise a kid.”
“Wait . . . What the hell?” Justin had drifted closer during Mel’s diatribe and was now standing right next to where Brian was sitting on the couch. “Don’t listen to her, Brian. You would make an amazing father. Mel doesn't know what the fuck she’s talking about . . .”
“Now, Mel, we’ve talked about this,” Lindsey intervened. “All the research on alternative families says that children benefit from ongoing contact with their biological parents and that they need at least some exposure to both male and female influences to become well rounded adults. So, of course we’d want Brian to spend time with the baby.”
“Fine. Whatever. Like I said before, I’m willing to accommodate you on this Lindz, even though I’m not one hundred percent happy with your decision. But we keep his influence to a minimum and if he starts acting like a total asshole - which, for Brian, seems to be his usual MO - then that’s it. I won’t have MY children exposed to that kind of influence,” Mel stated adamantly, her vague references to Brian's past clear enough to all parties involved.
“Fuck this!” Brian stood up and shouldered his way past the blond spirit that was trying to block his flight path. “I do NOT need this shit. It was a bad idea from the get go.”
Lindsey jumped up and sprinted to the door. “Please, Brian. You have to do this for us. For me. Mel just doesn’t understand. You’re the only man I could even imagine trusting with this kind of responsibility, Peter,” Lindsey cooed, reaching up with one hand to caress Brian’s biceps as she spoke and using the pet name she’d given him back in college to try and calm him. “We’ve been friends for so long and you’ve always been there for me, Brian. I just know that this is meant to be. Please, Brian. Please, do it for your Wendy?” She looked up at him from under her long lashes, her big brown eyes suddenly watering with unshed tears as she silently implored him for his acquiescence.
Brian shook his head and sighed. He hated being put in this position. Pleading females were not his forte. He felt more comfortable with Mel’s open hostility than he did with this simpering, fawning supplication. But, despite all Lindsey’s flattery, at heart he agreed with Mel. He wasn't meant to be a father. He wasn’t father material. Not by any stretch of the imagination. Why he’d even agreed to come here tonight was a total mystery. Fucking blond spirit guide . . . Why had Brian listened to the little twat? He needed to get the fuck out of there.
“I don’t think so, Lindsey,” Brian snapped, reaching past his friend to tug open the door so he could escape.
~**~**~**~**~
Brian was working on his fourth Beam and his fifth cigarette when he saw the reflection of his oldest friend approaching via the mirror behind the bar. He sighed. He did not feel up to any of the Novotny brand of cheerleading tonight. He’d had enough advice thrown at him already. Fucking Lindsey.
Brian snuffed out the remains of his last smoke just as the invisible boy sitting on the stool next to him realized that they were about to get company. Justin scrambled to get off the seat before Michael could take what he assumed was an empty barstool. Not that Michael would have realized he was about to sit on the incorporeal boy’s lap. Justin didn’t seem at all keen on the idea though. Brian groggily mused about what that would feel like to Justin, or for that matter to Mikey. Would it feel strange for them to occupy the same space even though they couldn’t touch each other? Would they still somehow be able to sense the other person?
Justin managed to get away right before Michael sat on the chair, so Brian figured the questions percolating through his half-inebriated brain were probably mute. Although, if he still remembered tomorrow after the inevitable hangover wore off, he might ask Justin about it. If Justin could sort of slide inside another person's body that might be pretty cool. Brian vaguely remembered some old movie about a ghost that did that to his still living lover with seriously erotic consequences. That could be hot. Maybe they should try it, he thought, causing himself to laugh out loud just as Michael was about to address him.
“Hey, Bri. I thought I’d find you here. What’s so funny?” Michael started in on him right away.
“Life . . . Life is funny, Mikey,” Brian answered ambiguously as he threw back the rest of his drink and immediately waved the bartender over for a refill.
“Shit, Brian. Haven't you had enough already? You’re already half drunk and it’s not even nine yet,” Michael cautioned as he added a beer for himself to Brian’s order.
“Mikey, Mikey, Mikey . . . How many times do I have to tell you that there’s no such thing as enough.” Brian raised the glass the bartender sat in front of him right then and toasted his friend. “Here’s to there never being enough. Not enough beam, or drugs or men . . . Never enough!” Brian ignored the unhappy glare the unseen blond boy standing behind him gave his reflection. “So, what brings you out on this fine rainy Tuesday night in October, Mikey? Shouldn’t you be home with Honeycutt painting your toenails and trimming your pubes together?” Brian cracked himself up with that one and almost snorted out the sip of beam he was ingesting.
“Lindsey called me and asked that I come find you,” Michael answered, apparently not getting the joke, or at least not finding it funny. “She wants me to try and talk you into their crazy baby plan.”
Brian didn’t bother responding to that. Wasn’t that why he was here and already halfway through his fifth glass of beam - to forget all about the Munchers’ insane schemes? Maybe if he didn’t answer, Mikey would move on to another topic?
Nope. He wasn’t going to be that lucky.
“I’m glad you shut them down on that, Brian,” Michael forged on into the taboo subject. “What the fuck are they thinking? Brian Kinney a father? You don’t need that shit?”
Brian swirled the amber liquid around in his glass a moment before replying. “You don’t think I could do it?” He finally asked, keeping his inscrutable mask in place.
“What? Jerk off into a plastic cup?” Michael teased, bumping his shoulder against Brian’s jokingly and inadvertently causing some of the beam to spill from his glass all over his hand.
“Fuck you, Mikey,” Brian complained as he wiped his dripping fingers off on the leg of Michael’s jeans. “You know what I meant. Being a father. You don’t think I could do it?” Brian made sure NOT to make eye contact as he asked the question again.
“Of course you could do it. But why would you want to?” Michael replied instantaneously. “You don’t want to be a father, Brian. Why would you? You have the perfect life already. Why would you want to fuck that up?” Michael was rhapsodizing away at this point, obviating the need for Brian to respond. “I mean, you’re young, you’re beautiful and you can get any guy you want, any time you want. You’ve got a great job, so you’ve got no money worries. Your loft is practically an historic landmark here on Liberty Avenue. You fuck who you want, when you want and wherever you want. Why the hell would you want to fuck up the perfect life you have just to satisfy Lindsey’s baby craving?” Michael was now smiling over at his friend with such glowing pride in his eyes that it was almost as if he took personal credit for Brian’s wanton lifestyle and licentious ways.
Listening to Michael, Brian almost bought into the myth himself. It sounded great, right? Being the ultimate stud. Having the looks and all the money and freedom he’d ever dreamed of. Being able to pull any guy he wanted. That sounded great. Right?
“When did you decide that’s all you wanted out of life, Brian?” the persistent guardian spirit hovering over him asked, seemingly reading Brian’s mind now. “Did you actually make a conscious decision that you wanted to be THAT guy? Sure, you’re young and beautiful and can have your pick of guys right now but is that ALL you want? Do you truly think that will satisfy you for the rest of your life, Brian? What about five years from now? Ten years? Cause despite what Michael has been saying, you and I both know that you won’t be young and beautiful forever. And aren't you the one who always makes fun of the aging club boys trying to hold on to their glory days long past their prime? Is that how you want to end up?”
Justin’s words were boring into Brian’s psyche with their relentless truth in spite of the five beams he’d ingested to try and keep them out. “Fuck you. That’s not all I am,” he retorted angrily, glaring at the image of the boy in the bar mirror.
“Exactly!” Michael answered, thinking that Brian had been talking to him. “You’re not the father type. Hell, how many times have I listened to you going on and on about how pathetic it is when fags try to play hetero families and shit like that? Brian Kinney would never give up his life to become a slave to that kind of heteronormative values.” Michael chugged the last of his beer and then plunked the bottle down on the bar as if using that to emphasize his point. “If you ask me, you need to tell the Munchers to go to hell before they fuck up your perfect life.”
“Idiot . . .” Justin mumbled with another glare in Michael’s direction. “Please don’t listen to him, Brian. Michael doesn’t know what the fuck he’s talking about.”
Justin turned his attention back to Brian, drowning out the ongoing chatter from the man sitting next to him at the bar. “You still haven't answered me, Brian. When, exactly, did you decide that your only goal in life was to be some kind of Supreme Stud who fucked his way through life without caring for anyone and who always ended up alone? I don’t remember you ever saying that’s what you wanted to be when you grew up, do you? Yeah, you always said you wanted to be successful and have the kind of money your deadbeat father never had. Fine. You’ve got that. But what part of that means that you can’t also have a real life with someone you care about? What part of that says you can’t be a father? Can’t connect with anyone in a substantial way? When did you decide that being forever alone and untouchable was your ideal way of life?”
Justin paused for several minutes, allowing what he’d said to sink in. “The answer, Brian, is that you didn’t. This ‘perfect’ life - the sexy, untamed stud who has money and freedom but who’s always alone - that’s Michael’s vision of how your life should be. It’s his fantasy. But since he can’t live it, he’s pushed you into the role. And you’ve let him make you over into that person. But that’s not YOU, Brian. Not really. Not deep down inside. You don’t have to be like this. You deserve so much more.”
Brian could feel the warmth of Justin's hand, now resting on his shoulder, even though he was intentionally avoiding meeting the younger man’s gaze in the mirror. Was the spirit guide right? Had Michael pushed him into becoming the person he was today? Even if he hadn’t, did Brian really want to be this person anymore? The kid did have a point about how long he could keep up the act - he might not want to admit it, but nobody could stay young and beautiful forever and he would rather kill himself before he became one of those has-been, over-the-hill lotharios who looked so pathetic while they tried to pick up chicken at the clubs. Fuck that! But what was the alternative?
“Besides, what do you know about being a father anyway,” Michael’s ongoing chatter finally filtered through to Brian’s brain - it seemed he was STILL harping on in the same refrain. “It’s not like you grew up with a good example of parenting, or anything. Don’t kids who grow up in homes like that always turn out to be abusive themselves? You don’t want to go there. No. It’s a good idea you already told Lindsey and Mel ‘no’.” Michael concluded with a definitive note, completely clueless about how hurtful his statements were.
Brian, meanwhile, felt the words like a stab to the heart. It was true, though. Statistics said that he’d most likely turn out just like dear old Jack. Who was he to argue with cold hard stats?
Which meant it didn’t really matter what he wanted or who he thought he could be, did it? He might as well be some lonely old Stud, since there was no way in hell he'd ever intentionally expose another child to the type of nightmarish childhood he’d experienced. Brian would rather be alone his whole life than turn into a monster like his father. Mikey was probably right that he wasn’t ‘father’ material anyway.
“Brian, don’t listen to him!” Justin was pleading with him, His body now wedged between Brian’s stool and Michael’s, as if he could block out the other man’s words as easily as he could block out the sight of him sitting there. “You could never be like Jack. NEVER! I know you. I know your heart. You will be a wonderful father, Brian. Just give yourself a chance.”
Brian had had more than enough deep, philosophical soul searching for the night though. “Fuck the damn Munchers!” he declared as loudly as he could, pushing aside the judgmental blond sprite who was looking at him with that disapproving glare. “Fuck it all! Fuck Jack! Fuck everyone!” Michael giggled at Brian’s declaration, raising his new beer when Brian raised his own refilled glass. “Thanks, Mikey, for reminding me about what’s really important - and that’s NOTHING! Nothing is really important. It’s all just a huge pile of bullshit. Which is why I’m not going to worry about it. I’m just going to fuck and fuck and fuck as much as I can till I die.” Even if he hadn’t planned on being what he’d become, at least being the biggest Stud around was something he knew he could do, and do well.
“Excellent plan, Brian!” the little sycophant asserted, leaning into the embrace as Brian slipped an arm around his friend’s shoulders in a grip that was a little more than camaraderly. “We can celebrate your narrow escape from the girls’ nefarious plans.”
“Thass right, Mikey! We’ll celebrate,” Brian slurred, finally feeling the alcohol catching up to him. “We’ll salabrate being young and bootiful and hung . . . As long as it lasts . . . and then we can go out in a blaze of glory! Right?”
Brian leaned over and gave Mikey a great big enthusiastic smooch on his lips to signal the start of the official celebration. Michael kissed back with even more fervor, surprising Brian by slipping in a little tongue at the end. And, as if that wasn’t telling enough, Michael’s hand had inched up under the hem of Brian’s shirt in the middle of that unexpected kiss and was still resting there against his warm skin even after Brian pulled away.
In his current mood, Brian was tempted to just add this to the things he said ‘fuck it’ to and finally give Mikey what he’d been hinting he wanted for years. What would it really matter? Brian no longer cared what happened to him. This night had already convinced him that he was doomed, so why not give in to the fullest extent of his debauchery? Apparently fucking was all Brian was good for, right?
Just when he’d started to lean back in toward Michael for another kiss, though, the annoying blond stopped him. Justin grabbed Brian's chin, pulling the drunken man’s face to the side so that Brian couldn’t help but look straight into the worried blue eyes. Those sad eyes. Brian hated that sadness. He knew he was fucking up and hated it, but only because of the sorrow reflected there.
“Don’t do this, Brian. Please. You’ll hate yourself for it tomorrow. Just don’t,” the blond begged him.
“Damn it!” Brian growled, wrenching his face out of the boy’s hand and turning back to a confused looking Mikey. “Shit, Mikey. What the fuck am I doing? Sorry. I’m totally wasted,” he mumbled by way of excuse as he tried to push Michael’s body away.
Unfortunately Michael held on - if anything, wrapping his arms even tighter around Brian’s waist. “You don’t have to say ‘sorry’. I don’t mind, Brian.” Michael leaned forward and initiated another kiss, this one much hungrier and more insistent. “I don’t mind at all . . .”
“Yeah, well, you would tomorrow morning when I kicked you to the curb like any other trick,” Brian explained, trying to make the rejection sound like a joke, even as he pushed Michael away with a more determined shove.
“But, Brian, it doesn’t have to be like that. Not with us. We’ve been friends forever. Why couldn’t we just . . .”
“Which is exactly why you should know better than to listen to me when I’m fucking drunk, Mikey. You know I talk shit when I’m wasted,” Brian maintained, peeling off the octopus-like hands that his friend kept trying to clasp around various parts of his body. “Besides, you don’t fuck your friends, Michael. That’s the fastest way to end a friendship known to mankind. Especially not when one of them is too fucked up to realized what the hell he was about to do,” Brian added, trying to play down the moment even further. “Now, let me go so I can nail that hot muscle queen that’s been cruising me from the end of the bar all night. I’m going to pummel his ass so hard he won't be able to sit on the exercise bike at the gym tomorrow without a pillow.”
Michael, seeming to realize that he’d again missed his opportunity, finally let Brian out of his grasp. He tried to laugh nonchalantly at his friend’s words about the trick Brian was heading off towards, but Brian could see in his eyes how disappointed Michael really was. What the hell. Hadn’t this day been shitty enough without Michael glomming on him and getting all pissy when Brian turned him down? Why did it seem that everyone always wanted something from him that he couldn’t give them? And then they got disappointed anyway. Fuck them all. He didn’t need them. And that ‘live fast and die young’ thing was looking better every fucking second.
“You!” Brian shouted to the brunet gym bunny at the end of the bar. “Yes, you,” he confirmed when the guy looked around himself in confusion. “What’s your fucking name?”
“Uh . . . Jeremy?” the surprised gym bunny answered.
Brian grinned nastily at Justin who simply shook his head.
“Well, Jeremy, it’s your lucky day! Let’s go!” Brian ordered, struggling into his jacket and fishing his keys out of the pocket. “Later, Mikey.”
Justin watched in despair as Brian directed the trick du jour out of the bar and down the street towards where his car was waiting. So much for his plan to convince Brian to help Lindsey get pregnant. Or his plan to wean Brian away from the co-dependency of Michael's friendship. Or his other plan to make Brian see that he didn’t need to be the Stud of Liberty Avenue if he didn’t want to be. Let alone his plan to try and get Brian to dial back on the dangerous behavior like drinking too much, driving while under the influence and taking tricks he didn’t know home with him.
“Damn it all to fucking Hell!” Justin screamed out his frustration and fear.
Which wasn’t really a big deal since nobody at Woody’s heard him anyway.