When the alarm blared at nine the next morning, all I wanted to do was roll over and go back to sleep. It was a Saturday but I was due at school the next hour for our first cast read-through of the script for the Christmas play.

I had gotten home from Babylon the night before a little bit after eleven, which was much earlier than I originally expected. After the incident with Brian in his office and his sudden departure after the backroom blowjobs, however, I decided to get the hell out of there and drive home. I had stayed up watching infomercials until four AM, too upset to fall asleep any earlier.

I threw on a gray sweater and a pair of black jeans before stumbling down the stairs. My mother, who rarely ever slept past sunrise even on the weekend, was doing the crossword puzzle from the newspaper and drinking coffee at the kitchen table.

"What are you doing up so early?" she asked me.

"Play rehearsal, remember?" I mumbled as I took a coffee cup out of the cabinet.

"Oh, that's right. Can I make you something to eat before you go?" she asked, not waiting for my response before getting up to open the refrigerator door.

"No, I'll just have some Cheerios," I answered.

Ever the loving mother, she pulled the cereal box out of the cabinet for me. "How was your movie last night?"

I bit my bottom lip as I dumped a couple spoonfuls of sugar into my coffee. "I didn't really care for the ending."

"Oh," she said sympathetically. "Well, I hope you had fun spending time with your friend. What was his name?"

I carried my cup over to the table, unable to look at her. "Joey... uh, would you mind dropping me off at school? I may be able to get a ride home from someone; otherwise, I'll walk home."

"I planned on staying home today to do some cleaning, so you can take the car."

I smiled up at her as she placed my bowl of cereal and a spoon in front of me. "Thanks."

********************

I parked Mom's car in the parking lot closest to the entrance of the school's auditorium and went inside. It wasn't quite ten o'clock yet but it seemed like everyone from the cast and crew had arrived.

All except Brian, that is.

There were a few students sitting in seats out in the audience talking and laughing together while the others sat or stood on the stage. Miss Peterson, who was in charge of set design, was standing towards the back of the stage with students from the set crew. My friend September, who had been chosen to play one of the five characters in the play, was sitting on the edge of the stage.

"Good morning, Justin," she said to me, a bright smile on her face.

God, I hate morning people...

"Hey, September," I said as I hopped up to sit next to her.

She started babbling about some reality TV show that I had never heard of before and I half listened as I alternated between watching for Brian to walk through the door and looking down at my watch. I wasn't particularly looking forward to seeing him but he was the director of the play so his presence was required.

At a quarter after, Miss Peterson walked over to me. "Shouldn't Mr. Kinney be here by now?"

As she often did, Miss Peterson was wearing a long floral skirt that day. I felt odd talking to her from where I was sitting, as if I were talking to her twat, so I stood up to look at her face.

"Yeah, he should have been here fifteen minutes ago, at least."

She pulled her cell phone out of the pocket of her cardigan. "I'll call him to see what the hold up is."

Miss Peterson walked to the edge of the stage where she could have some privacy to call Brian. She walked back over to me with a look of concern on her face a couple of minutes later.

"I called Brian's loft and his cell and didn't answer. The cell goes straight to voice mail so he must have turned it off last night; he's good at that."

I let out an angry sigh. "He'd better not have forgotten about this rehearsal... it's his fucking play."

Miss Peterson looked at me in surprise.

"Pardon my French," I said sheepishly.

She smiled. "We just spoke about this yesterday at lunch so he shouldn't have forgotten about it."

"It's no telling what time he left Babylon last night," I said to no one in particular.

"You know about Babylon?" Miss Peterson asked, more surprised at that than she had been at my cursing.

"Uh... yeah," I said, looking down at the stage floor hoping she wouldn't press me for details.

"Hmm," Miss Peterson said. "Well, I would go by his loft to check on him but I can't leave when I'm the only faculty member here to supervise everyone."

"I'll go," I blurted out.

Fuck, what was wrong with my mouth that morning? It was like it wasn't even connected to my brain...

"You know where he lives?" Miss Peterson asked, her eyes wide.

"No," I quickly said. "But I have my mom's car, so..."

"Okay," Miss Peterson said as the two of us walked over to the short staircase leading down to the main floor. "He lives at Six Fuller Street on the corner of Tremont Avenue. The outside door doesn't always close all the way, but if it is closed you can only get in if someone in the building buzzes you in. He's the only one on the fourth floor right where you get off the elevator."

********************

I found myself at the corner of Fuller and Tremont about fifteen minutes later. Tremont was three blocks from Liberty Avenue running parallel. I looked around for Brian's Jeep but did not see it parked anywhere on the street.

I found the building that was marked 6 Fuller above the main wooden door, parked across the street behind a black El Camino with orange flames painted on it, and got out of the car. I could see that the door to the building was not closed all the way so I didn't have to be buzzed in. I pushed the door open and found a set of concrete stairs leading up as well as an old wooden freight elevator. The elevator was already at the landing so I stepped inside and pulled the wooden grate down.

After riding up to the fourth floor, which was the top floor of the building, I pushed the grate up and stepped out. Just as Miss Peterson had said, there was a gray metal door right me.

I saw no doorbell so I knocked. I waited for several seconds, listening for any noises or footsteps from inside. I heard nothing so I knocked again.

"Brian!" I called out. I knocked once again a few seconds later but there was still no answer.

I began to feel worried by that point, wondering if he was even in there, and if he was, if he was okay. I grabbed onto the door handle to see if the door was locked or not and was able to pull the sliding door over to the right. I only opened it wide enough for me to fit my head in.

I looked inside the loft where I could see a large, open room with a beautiful wood floor. Two black leather jackets laid on the floor along with a black pair of boots that had obviously been carelessly kicked off. There was a partial wall several feet in front of me and the wall had several frosted glass panels in the middle of it that blocked the area behind it. The wall had openings on each side and there were two steps leading up to a raised platform behind the wall.

"Brian?" I said again.

I heard a groan and pulled the door open a bit wider so I could walk inside.

"Hello?" I said.

"Who's out there?" I heard Brian rasp.

I didn't say anything but continued to slowly walk into the spacious room. I looked over to my left where I saw a kitchen area with an island built across from the stove and sink. There was a round white table with matching chairs placed across from the refrigerator at the far end of the wall under a set of windows covered with silky white curtains.

I turned to look in front of me again when I heard one of the glass panels creak open only to find Brian standing there in his birthday suit, his morning wood on full display.

"Christ!" he yelled when he saw me. "What the fuck are you doing here?"

I couldn't help but gawk at the gorgeous man whose naked body was pure perfection.

"Weren't you supposed to be somewhere this morning, Mr. Kinney?" I asked him, my dick hardening in spite of my anger at him.

He scratched his bed-rumpled head, squinting at me. "Uh... the Bahamas? I don't fucking-"

"The rehearsal, asshole!" I yelled. "Everyone's at the auditorium waiting for you. Miss Peterson told me where you lived so I could come and make sure you weren't dead or something."

"Shit," he said, looking genuinely upset about sleeping in before turning around.

"Hey!" he yelled at someone. "Get up!"

"Huh?" I heard a man groan. "What time is it?"

"It's time for you to get the fuck out!" Brian yelled back.

He then walked down the stairs on my left and asked me, "Do you know how to make a creatine and soy shake?"

I scoffed. "No."

"Would you please pour me some guava juice, then?" he asked, pointing toward the refrigerator. "I have to take a shower."

"I'm not your butler," I snapped. "I'm going back to school. See you there."

"I'll have to call a cab unless you have a way to get us both there," Brian said as he rubbed his eyes.

Brian's overnight guest - a bald guy whose arms were heavily covered in tattoos - walked down the stairs carrying his shoes. He sat down on one of the steps to put them on.

"What's up?" he asked me.

I stared at him blankly before looking back at Brian. "Why would you need to call a cab? Where's your Jeep?"

"It's still parked behind Babylon. What's-His-Name drove us last night," he said, motioning towards the tattooed man.

Tattoo chuckled. "Yeah, you were really fucked up."

Brian glared at the man before walking back up the stairs and turning to the left into what had to be the bathroom. I could distinctly hear Brian taking a piss in the toilet, letting out a groan of relief.

"I have my mom's car so I can drive us. I'll drop you at Babylon after rehearsal," I yelled to Brian.

As I turned to walk to the kitchen I noticed a large painting of a bald, naked man on the wall behind the bathroom. A black chaise lounge chair sat between it and the dining room table.

I started looking through Brian's cabinets where I found one containing glasses and coffee cups. While I was pouring Brian his juice Tattoo grabbed one of the jackets from the floor and finally walked out of the loft, leaving the door open and taking the stairs.

I put the bottle of juice back into the refrigerator before checking out the rest of the loft. The right side of the room contained an office area with a computer desk as well as the living room. There was a white couch flanked by two glass end tables facing the windows opposite the ones over the dining room table along with a glass coffee table sitting on a furry white area rug. Towards the back of the room was a large TV with two white chairs facing it.

I assumed that the building was originally some type of warehouse or factory before being converted into apartments. Four steel beams held up the high ceiling, and the heating/air conditioning ducts were exposed overhead.

I had always tried to imagine what Brian's home looked like but it was never anything like what I was looking at. That glamorous loft with its expensive-looking furnishings, however, was the perfect place for a man like Brian.

I took the stairs on the right side of the panel wall up to what was obviously Brian's bedroom. The king-sized bed took up most of the space and was covered in wrinkled gray sheets. A black comforter laid crumpled at the foot of the bed. A row of eight long, unlit fluorescent light bulbs were attached horizontally to the wall above the bed.

Beyond the bed I could see the open doorway to the bathroom. I quietly walked towards the bathroom where I could smell either Brian's shampoo or soap wafting out and could hear the shower running.

I bypassed the bathroom to go over to Brian's closet which had sliding frosted-glass doors. I slid one of the doors open where I found all of Brian's beautiful suits hanging. I ran my hands along them stopping to peak at a few of the labels: Armani, Dolce & Gabbana, Hugo Boss, Gucci, Prada.

No wonder he looked so damned sharp at school - the price of just one of his suits could buy me a used car.

I opened one of the drawers of the dresser to the left of the bed and found a bunch of wife beater tanks and t-shirts all in black and white. The drawer beneath that held button-up shirts, several of them black and white. The next one held sweaters in various colors. The bottom drawer held black and blue jeans.

I was looking through the top drawer of Brian's dresser which was full of black and gray boxer-briefs and socks when Brian walked out of the bathroom.

"See anything you like, Sunshine?" he asked, slightly annoyed.

I jumped back and saw that Brian had a red towel wrapped around his waist. His hair and perfectly-toned upper body were dripping wet. He had skipped shaving but even with dark stubble covering his face and neck he looked good enough to eat.

"Uh... sorry," I said as I backed away from the dresser.

"If you were going to play with my undies, I'd rather you do it while I was in them," he said in a sultry voice, grabbing a pair of gray boxer-briefs from the drawer.

I felt a rush of heat flow through my body before I remembered that I was supposed to be mad at him. "Get dressed. Your juice is on the counter."

I walked back down the stairs and sat in one of the dining room chairs, keeping my head turned so I could not see into the bedroom.

"So, that guy was pretty ugly," I yelled over my shoulder.

"What guy?" Brian asked.

I snorted out a laugh. "Damn, did you forget about him already? I'm talking about that Hell's Angel that just walked out of here."

"Like he said, I was really fucked up last night. He drove an El Camino for fuck's sake."

"Yeah, I saw it out front... So, I guess if you get enough drugs and alcohol into you you'll bring just about anyone home, huh?" I asked bitterly.

"Well, they have to have a dick," he said. "I'd have to drink and drug myself blind before I'd take a total troll home, though, which rarely ever happens."

I waited for Brian to walk out into the kitchen, wearing a maroon sweater and black jeans, before asking my next question. "What did you take last night?"

He walked over to the counter and picked up his glass of juice. "Beam, of course... smoked a little weed, snorted some coke." He took a few gulps of the juice. "And little bit of Special K."

"The cereal?" I asked, imagining someone crushing up the golden flakes and snorting it like cocaine.

"It's a nickname for ketamine," he answered. "It's a dissociative anesthetic - kind of like PCP but so much better. PCP makes me want to fight while K makes me want to fuck."

"Jesus, Brian! You're going to kill yourself putting all that shit into your body."

"Oh, please, I've been doing it for years and I'm still here."

"Yeah, I'm sure that's what all the addicts say before they die!" I yelled at him, tears welling up in my eyes.

Brian laughed as he walked over and ruffled my hair. "You're such a fucking drama queen, Taylor... maybe you should have auditioned for a part in the play instead of asking me to make you the stage manager."

He finished his juice before putting the glass into the sink. "Let's go, kid."