Chapter 37 - Real Life Invasion. (Sunday, June 26th)

"Shit, Sunshine. We're going to have to change your name to Sunburn after this," Brian commiserated with the burned beauty, grabbing the aloe vera lotion and gingerly applying more cream to his lower back. "I gotta say, though, red really isn't your color, kid."

"Not funny, Brian. Fuck! This is gonna fucking hurt so bad by tomorrow." Justin squirmed and whined even at Brian's lightest touch.

"How bad is it?" Dane asked as he came in through the patio door with Malik at his heels.

"BAD!" Justin snarled.

"Ouch!" Dane sympathized as he examined the shoulder closest to him. "You know, if you would have let me fuck YOU, like I'd offered, you would have been lying on your back, protected from the sun, and it woulda been my ass that looked like a boiled lobster right now."

"Yeah, sorry BFG, but I've been there, done that, got the t-shirt and had to sit on an ice pack the whole rest of the night afterwards. I think I'll pass for now. It's going to take me quite awhile before I save up enough courage to try THAT again."

"Wuss!" Malik jokingly added his two cents. He then picked up the tube of aloe cream that Brian had been using and started in on Justin’s other side. “Shit, Cupcake. You’re even burned clear down in your ass crack. How the fuck did you manage that?”

“Damn it! I have no idea . . .” Justin was twisting to try and look over his shoulder in order to assess the full damage, but really couldn’t see anything that way and eventually gave up. “So, I get that the theme is Sunday IN THE SUN. But, really, if they expect us blond boys to fuck - naked - in the full sun for almost five hours, they should have given us more frequent sunscreen breaks. I look ridiculous!”

“That’s what you get for being a member of a pigment-challenged race, Cupcake,” Malik replied, with a big grin, as he started to administer the cream in a place where the sun wasn’t supposed to shine. “Hey! Hold still so I can get this shit down in your crack. If you keep moving around I’ll miss a spot and you’ll be out of commission for days.”

The razzing of the raspberry-colored twink might have gone on indefinitely if the group hadn’t been interrupted by the crashing of the patio door as it was forcefully pulled open, sliding so hard that it crashed into the backstop of the frame.

“I’m going to fucking kill that asshole!” Kerek came barging inside followed shortly by a very concerned looking Paal. “I don’t care who the fuck he thinks he is, I did NOT agree to that kind of shit! Nobody gets to do that to me. You hear me. NOBODY!”

Kerek tore into the middle of the room, his hands clenched into tight fists looking like he was liable to hit anything that came into his direct line of sight. Luckily, the small side table that sat at the end of the couch ended up being the most convenient target at hand and Kerek vented at least some of his pent up anger by kicking it over, causing the lamp sitting on it to crash to the floor and shatter into pieces. However, it didn’t look like that was going to be enough to quell the man’s rage, so Dane jumped over the back of the couch and wrapped his long arms around Kerek from behind, holding him in a restrictive but caring embrace.

“Shh, Baby. It’s okay. I’ve got you,” Dane hummed consolingly into the enraged man’s ear. “I won’t let him fucking near you again, okay? You’re okay.”

“What did the fuckwad do now,” Brian asked, assuming like all the rest that Kerek was referring to Daniel.

While the rest of the group had fallen into something of a routine whereby they managed to get along pretty well on a day to day basis - fucking as directed or needed to fulfill their responsibilities in the game or as their personal inclinations dictated - Daniel continued to cause problems. It had gotten so bad that only Paal would willingly have anything to do the the big bully boy. Everyone else pretty much shunned him unless they were forced to interact with Daniel because of one of the daily Challenges. And, while he was a regular pissant to everyone in the Residence, Daniel seemed to direct the majority of his harassment at either Kerek or Justin. But, while Justin had several protectors who always tried to look out for him, everyone assumed that Kerek was strong enough to stand up for himself. Unfortunately, that didn’t seem to be the case this afternoon.

“He . . . He tried to . . . He tied me up . . .” Kerek choked out the words, seemingly on the verge of breaking into tears, and turned so that his head was nestled under Dane’s chin. “I don’t do that. You know I don’t do that. NEVER!”

“Shit! That damned fucker!” Dane, who almost never cursed, was cursing up a blue streak as he held on tightly to Kerek’s shaking shoulders. “It’s okay, Baby. It’s over. I won’t let him do that again. Come on. Let’s go upstairs until you’re better. Okay?" Step by step, Dane gently coaxed the distraught Kerek towards the stairs.

“What the fuck happened out there,” Brian turned towards Paal and demanded an explanation since the tall Indian seemed to have been the only other person who’d been outside while whatever it was happened.

“Daniel and Kerek were taking their turn for the Challenge. Kerek did not want to go with him, of course, but I think he did not want to waste his breath arguing either so he agreed to bottom for Daniel,” Paal started to explain. “I was not nearby. I was talking with one of the servants and did not see exactly how things came about. But eventually both the servant and I heard Kerek shouting and we all came over to see what was the matter. Daniel had used the rope that usually divides up the pool into swimming lanes to tie up Kerek’s hands. He had managed somehow to loop the rope around the upright support to the pool ladder so that Kerek was unable to move his hands at all. And, by the time that I got there, Daniel looked like he intended to penetrate Kerek with this.”

Paal tossed one of the plastic ‘Torpedo’ pool toys that were kept in a basket out near the pool onto the cushion of the couch.

“Shit! Where the hell is that fucker. I’ll kick his ass myself,” Malik was livid at the sight of the almost ten inch long pool toy that was still glistening with a sheen of lube.

“He is out with the two servants,” Paal explained, sitting down on the couch and looking absolutely exhausted. “He did not actually DO anything with the toy, so I do not know if they will take any action against him. He claimed that he was only joking around and would not have done it unless Kerek agreed. But, in my humble opinion, that was a falsehood.”

“Of course he’s lying. He’s a fucking psychopath,” Malik picked up the offensive toy and threw it out the still open patio door, then collapsed onto the couch next to Paal. “This is really bad. I mean, REALLY bad. Kerek told me he doesn’t do bondage. Ever. I think he had a really bad experience with it one time and . . . well, he just doesn’t do that shit. Daniel tying him up, even without threatening to fuck him with that thing, is going to fucking freak him out. Big time.”

“Damn! Poor Ker . . . Should we go see if there’s anything we can do to help,” Justin asked, worried about his friend but unsure what, if anything, he could do to help.

“I think Dane will take care of him for now,” Brian cautioned. “We need to figure out what we’re going to do about Daniel, though. That guy is a fucking time bomb waiting to explode. He’s fucking dangerous. But I really doubt that the guys running this show will do anything to get rid of him. At least not yet. I know Ted. He’s too fucking cautious to kick the guy out without real evidence. He’d be afraid of a lawsuit or something, and knowing Daniel, that asswipe is just the kind of guy who’d sue over shit like that.” Brian moved around and sat on the edge of the coffee table so he was face on to the rest of the crew sitting along the long arm of the couch. “Which means, we have to figure out what to do on our own.”

“We kick his ass. That’s what we do,” Malik sounded blood thirsty and just foolhardy enough to do it.

“And how do you propose we do that and not get kicked out of the game ourselves?” the always realistic Brian responded. “I’m not sacrificing my chances of winning for fucking Daniel.” Brian looked around, reassured himself that neither Daniel nor any of the servants were close by and then turned back to his audience. “Break Room! Now. And somebody go get Dane,” Brian said as softly as he could so that, hopefully, none of the mics in the room would pick up his voice.

Ten minutes later the entire group - Brian, Justin, Malik, Paal and Dane - were all reassembled in the camera-free environment of the Break Room.

“How’s Kerek?” Brian asked before anyone said anything else.

“Okay. I made him lay down although I doubt he’ll get any rest. He’s pretty upset and ready to eviscerate Daniel the first chance he gets, but otherwise he’s okay. He’s a strong little fucker,” Dane didn’t even try to mask the affection in his tone as he said this. “So, what exactly are you guys thinking of doing? I want to get that cretin out of here as much as everyone else, but how do you propose we do it?”

“I’m not completely sure,” Brian confessed. “But it won’t happen by any of us using our fists. We have to use our brains. That’s definitely Daniel’s weak spot.” Brian shot a tongue-in-cheek smile around at his assembled henchmen. When Brian got a round of nods and smiles in agreement, he continued. “So, like I said before, I know Ted Schmidt, the owner of the website, and I know what makes him tick. He’s an accountant at heart. Super cautious. He won’t act on ANYTHING without concrete evidence. Which means, if we want to get rid of Daniel for good, we need to get proof that he’s breaking the rules. Accusations alone aren’t going to cut it though. We need real, hard proof.”

“Like what?” Justin asked. “He practically raped poor Adrien and now he’s trying non-consensual bondage and unwanted penetration on Kerek too. All of that was caught live on camera, I assume. So what more proof can we provide?”

“How about proof that he’s using illegal drugs?” Brian offered, looking around at all of them with an expectant glare.

“Are you sure? Is this something we CAN prove?” Dane asked.

“I don’t know. I’M one hundred percent sure, myself, but I have no idea if we can prove it.” Brian started to explain. “I don’t have any evidence, but I’m pretty confident he’s using AAS . . .” When Brian saw a couple of blank stares he went on to explain. “Steroids. He’s a fucking juice pig. He’s showing all the signs. He’s way more cut than is normal for someone of his build. Plus, he’s irritable, aggressive, moody, occasionally manic. We’ve all noticed that he sometimes has trouble performing sexually, but he usually masks it by getting angry and claiming it’s his partner’s fault. Not to mention the fact that his balls are fucking weirdly small for his size.”

Brian looked around and saw that all his listeners had seen the same signs and were in total agreement. He hesitated a moment before proceeding. He didn’t know if he should mention what he’d overheard. But, in for a penny, in for a pound . . .

“Plus, the other day when The Master had the stylists and the waxing guys in, I kinda overheard part of a conversation . . .” Brian thought he sounded paranoid, but he figured he owed it to the others to give them all the facts. “It SOUNDED like he was arranging for the delivery of more steroids. I only heard part of the conversation, so I’m not sure, but I think he was trying to arrange for the waxing guy to supply him with more juice. I don’t know for sure that he delivered, but based on Daniel’s behavior the past week or so, I’d say it’s more than likely.”

Brian looked around and noted that he now had a rapt audience, so he continued. “Unfortunately, the conversation I listened in on was whispered and it happened out in the upstairs hallway, so I doubt that Ted’s mics caught the whole thing. Even if someone saw him talking with the waxing tech, that’s no proof of any wrongdoing. And, if they delivered the drugs, I haven’t seen them. I don’t have a clue where Daniel’s hiding the stuff either. Considering that we’re all on camera almost 24/7 I don’t know how he’s hiding them, but if I know addicts, where there’s a will, there’s a way.”

“So, what you’re suggesting,” Justin spoke up, the gears in his intelligent mind spinning so fast you could almost see them whirling, “is that we spy on Daniel, find his stash, and THEN report him to the game administration. Right?”

“Precisely, Sunburn!” Brian flashed his quick-witted boy a praised-filled look. “But, since the asswipe pretty much has it in for all of us except for, perhaps, Paal . . .”

“You want me to be your spy,” Paal stated, looking worried but resolute.

“You do share a room with him,” Malik reasoned. “And you’re pretty much the only one of us that Daniel hasn’t tried something nasty on.”

“Which is because I have tried not to antagonize him,” Paal offered resignedly. “But I agree that Daniel has finally gone too far. I saw what he was doing to Kerek this afternoon and I know that he was not being truthful about his intentions with that toy. I will not condone violence of any kind. Obviously, it is past time that we took some type of action in this regard. So, yes, I will do what I can to help find any drugs that Daniel may have hidden. Although, I must caution you that I have not seen any evidence of this supposed drug use so far, in spite of the fact that we are sharing a room.”

“I know he’s using,” Brian assured the gathering. “I just don’t know how he’s getting away with it. But I do know that no addict will quit until he’s forced to and that we’re all at risk until we find a way to stop him.”

Their impromptu strategy meeting in the Break Room had just broken up when the House Boys were all summoned back to the Greatroom for the end of the day announcements. Everybody trooped up the stairs - Brian, coming last, got to enjoy the view of all those perfect asses preceding him - and marched over to the usual area around The Master’s portrait. Kerek came down from the bedroom a minute later. He still looked pissed off, but the underlying hint of panicky distress was now gone.

They all stood around waiting for several minutes before the patio door opened and the two masked servants finally entered, followed by Daniel. If anyone had been expecting the big bruiser to look apologetic, they’d have been disappointed. If anything, Daniel had an even more defiant air about him as he sauntered into place at the end of the lineup of contestants. Brian wasn’t the only one who failed to control a quiet hiss of anger at this cocky entrance.

The announcements were short and to the point since it was Sunday and the Boys had the rest of the evening off. The winners of the Sunday in the Sun competition were announced - apparently Paal and Malik had done something ridiculously athletic in the last round of the day’s games that tipped the odds in their team’s favor. By this point, all of them had mostly gotten over their initially strong competitiveness, which meant that nobody really cared that much anymore who won the day-to-day challenges. It was going to be staying power that won the big prize, and who the daily winners were really didn’t matter much.

Next, the Blog Bitch award was presented to Dane. Again. So far the big giant had won the award every single week. It seemed that the rough and tumble construction worker was really a poet at heart. Brian made a mental note to check out his writing sometime. You never knew - if Brian won this stupid Summer of Sin and started his own agency, he might just need a copywriter with a poetic bent and a fresh, queer, eye.

Finally, The Master announced a special week-long challenge: ‘Look, No Hands!’. Each of the House Boys was being directed to create a painting using whatever media they preferred, with the only catch being that they could use any body parts they wanted to paint it other than their hands. Apparently Ted had even arranged with some local gallery to have the artwork displayed and the owner - some guy named Sidney Bloom, whose name sounded vaguely familiar to Brian - would serve as the judge of who won the Challenge. Obviously, Brian thought, it was just another publicity stunt to get the word out to even more people about the game. Ted was definitely proving to be a marketing whiz when it came to promoting his reality show baby. Brian was impressed. And this Challenge would definitely stretch Brian’s limits seeing as he could barely manage a believable stick figure when using his hands. Oh, well. He’d do his best and then move on to the next challenge. Hopefully it would involve him doing something more enjoyable with his dick than just sticking it into jars of paint, though.

That was all for that day’s announcements. There was no discussion of the incident between Kerek and Daniel. Brian wondered what, if anything, Ted and the Mysterious Master, would do about the situation. He hoped that someone would take notice and do something and take the burden of getting Daniel ousted out of his hands, but he wouldn’t hold his breath in the meantime. He figured that he and his gang would just have to keep going with their own plan of finding Danny Boy’s steroid stash and getting him kicked out that way.

After the group broke up, Brian decided to head back down to the Break Room and take his hour of down time. It had been a long day of fucking out in the sun and he wasn’t feeling especially sociable right then. He really could use some time alone. That really had been one of the toughest adjustments he’d had to make since he’d been here. By nature he was a bit of an introvert. Not that he didn’t enjoy being social sometimes, but he preferred it to be on his schedule and to have a nice, secluded, private place to retreat to afterwards. Here in the Residence, though, he was pretty much surrounded day and night by other people with very little alone time. He would happily take any opportunity he could get to get away from everyone else. So, while the rest of them plodded off in a gaggle to console Kerek and chatter, Brian snuck off to the Break Room all by himself.

The first thing Brian did was log into his email. He’d kind of neglected it lately because he was fed up with the overly-solicitous missives from Michael and the worrisome notes from his work about the way his temporary replacements were screwing up his accounts while he was gone. It was so much easier to just to ignore the emails, forget all that shit and enjoy his time here in this idyllic little bubble of summer where his only responsibility was fucking a series of beautiful men on a daily basis. THAT was a job he was imminently qualified for and thoroughly enjoyed! But, he knew he couldn’t ignore the real world forever, so it was probably time to face the onerous job of wading through the email he’d been trying to avoid.

Although Brian doubted the wisdom of this action as soon as he saw the very first email.

To: BAK@Ryder.net

From: CEM@Ryder.net

Re: Shitstorm approaching - Grab your waders!

Hey, Boss:

Sorry to be the bearer of bad tidings - please don’t kill the messenger - but Ryder seems to have figured out that your summer sabbatical, which you said you needed in order to take care of some ‘personal matters’, is being used instead to launch your newfound career in pornography. Apparently this was pointed out to him by one of YOUR clients, who wasn’t happy that Brad and Bob have been fucking up his account while you’re away fucking. I could hear Ryder screaming clear down at my desk at the other end of the hall while he was yelling at his assistant to get HR on the phone.

I haven’t yet found out what Ryder thinks he’s going to do. Just thought you’d want a head’s up. I’ll keep pumping his assistant, Marge, for more info and let you know as soon as I hear something.

Good Luck!

Cynthia

P.S. Love the show! Thought you should have won the last Fetish Friday competition. Brilliant work with that riding crop.  ;P

To: CEM@Ryder.net

From: BAK@Ryder.net

Re: Shitstorm approaching - Grab your waders!

Fuck Ryder! He approved the sabbatical. I’ve got it in writing and the authorization doesn’t specify anything about what I should or shouldn’t be doing while I’m off. He’s got no fucking leg to stand on if he tries to fire me and I’ll sue his ass if he tries. Besides, who I’m fucking IS a very ‘personal matter’. And it’s his own fault he hired idiots like Bob and Brad in the first place. But thanks for the head’s up. Glad you’ve got my back.

Brian.

P.S. You’re right - I should have won that last Fetish Friday competition. I was robbed. But, I would have thought that you’d already had more than enough exposure to my naked ass over the years and wouldn’t be wasting your time watching porn just to see more of it. Also, if you can afford the online viewing fees to watch this show, I’m probably paying you too much. Get back to work already!

Fucking Ryder! And fucking Brad and Bob. Why the fuck Ryder couldn’t seem to manage his own agency for even one full month without Brian was a mystery. Well, maybe not so much of a mystery seeing as he was letting those two unimaginative fuckwads muddle up his accounts. Brian really needed out of there. He couldn’t stand being surrounded by that much incompetence. And the way Marty Ryder had been stringing him along all these years with promises of a partnership that never seemed to materialize was pathetic. Brian knew that if Marty really was shopping around for a buyer for the agency, any chance he might have of making partner would disappear for good. This really was the perfect time for Brian to break off and head out on his own. If he only had the money. Which was exactly the reason why he was here in the first place.

Brian figured that Ryder could wait though. By the time he’d checked with the lawyers and HR and discovered that he didn’t really have recourse to fire Brian for using his summer off to star in a pornographic internet reality show, hopefully he would have cooled off. And Brian could most likely fix anything ‘Bobrad’ had screwed up on his accounts when he got back. In the meantime, he didn’t want to deal with all of that shit.

Brian didn’t really want to deal with any of the other shit in his inbox either, but felt he didn’t have a choice. He quickly scanned through the listings and deleted about half the nearly one hundred unread messages without bothering to read them. He intentionally skipped over the ten new emails that had arrived from Michael in the past two days - he’d have to work up to them. There were a few more work ones that he would look at later, after his anger at Ryder had cooled off a little. That left only one new email from Lindsey, which he thought would probably be safe to read.

To: BAK@Ryder.net

From: Blondewasp@dykemail.net

Re: Concerns

Hey, Bri:

I'd usually start this off by asking how you're doing, but this time I don't have to because it seems like everyone I've met in the past week has already told me how you are, as well as who you're fucking, in what positions and how often.

Far be it from me to judge you, Brian. You know I've always been the first person to defend you whenever someone attacked you or your lifestyle. In fact, your devil-may-care attitude towards life has always been one of the things I like most about you. I admire your free spirit. And I'd never try to dictate to you how you should live your life,  provided that whatever you're doing isn't hurting anybody else.

Unfortunately, I'm afraid that's what's happening now.

I admit that this Summer of Sin thing seemed like harmless fun at first. Mel and I even checked out the website once just for kicks. I didn't really see that it was much different from your usual carefree promiscuity. But that was before the show's popularity took off and your exploits became quite so well known. Now, it's practically impossible to go within ten blocks of Liberty Avenue without someone commenting to me about you and the show. It's actually become a real problem.

This morning we were out to brunch with a few friends - you remember Dusty & Marie and Sandy & Alice - and it seemed like your antics were the only topic of conversation. I don't have to tell you that Mel was more than a little ticked off having to sit there and listen to everybody razzing us about your rise to pornographic stardom. And, as if that wasn't bad enough, some strange man came over to our table, patted Gus on the head and asked if he was going to grow up to follow in his porn star Daddy's footsteps. Then, in a voice so loud that everyone in the restaurant heard, he said - and I quote - "that's a pretty big condom to fill for such a little guy!" Everyone was laughing. Thank goodness that poor Gus is too little to understand what that creep said, but still, it was so embarrassing. We had to leave the restaurant. Mel was mortified!

You have to realize that, the Internet being what it is, the stuff you're doing now is going to be out there FOREVER. Right now Gus is too little to understand what's being said to him but as he gets older, this stuff could make a huge impact on his life. He'll never be able to escape from the knowledge that his FATHER was a porn star. He's already going to have to deal with being a bit of an outsider seeing as he has gay parents. I'm worried, though, that this will truly stigmatize him. So now I have to ask if the money you think you might win in the game is really worth the potential trauma to your friends and your son that this is causing.

Mel and I have discussed matters at length. We agree that your participation in this game has become a huge problem. I assured Mel that I would talk to you about everything and I was confident you'd be reasonable about things, but she's seriously considering taking steps to limit your future access to Gus if you continue with the show. I don't want to go there, of course, but I can't say she's wrong about the negative impact this could have on our son.

I'm asking that you seriously reconsider whether or not your participation in this Summer of Sin game is a good idea. I don't think it's worth possibly traumatizing your son for life, is it? Please think it over, Brian. I don't want to have to do anything drastic, but you understand I'll do whatever I think is best for Gus.

I'm sorry to have to do this via email. I really would have preferred to discuss matters in person, or at least by phone, but since Ted refused to tell me how to contact you, this was the best I could do. Please think things over and let me know what you decide as soon as possible.

Love you,

Lindsey.

*Aaarrrrrgggghhhhh!* Brian barely finished reading the entire email before the flood of rage engulfed him. Without thinking, he grabbed hold of the computer monitor, yanked it so hard the cords were torn out of the wall and threw the entire thing across the room. The monitor smashed into the wall, exploding into a million little plastic and metal pieces, about two feet from where Justin was standing having just opened the door. The shocked and frightened look on the boy’s startled face only exacerbated Brian’s fury.

“Damned sanctimonious, judgmental, hypocritical BITCH! Who the fuck does she think she is? Thinking they can take my son away from me! No fucking way!” Brian screamed at the disarticulated pile of scrap that used to be a computer.

“Brian? What happened?” Justin cautiously approached the seething tower of crazy that used to be his lover.

“Fuck off!” Brian roared at the unprepared boy, shoved past him running out the door of the Break Room and disappearing up the stairs without further comment.

“Brian has a son?” Malik, who had been right behind Justin, asked as he stepped into the room and began to survey the destruction.

“Apparently,” Justin replied absentmindedly as he nudged at the remains of the computer monitor with his toe. “This is going to be bad, Mal. Really bad. I mean, really, really, really, monumentally bad.”

“No shit, Sherlock!” Mal joined Justin and the two of them fell silent as they stared down at the the former computer and contemplated just exactly how their world was likely to change.

There was no sign of Brian anywhere when Justin and Malik came back upstairs into the Greatroom. Since it was Sunday, they’d been allowed to order out for dinner and the rest of the crew was already sitting around the coffee table chowing down on the wonderfully aromatic Indian food that Paal had chosen for them. Everything in here seemed calm at the moment.

“If you’re looking for the Incredible Hulk, he ran out there,” Dane offered, intuiting what the two shocked-looking twinks were seeking. “I think he’s hitting a tree or something. It looked painful. Luckily he’s not wearing any clothing that will be destroyed when he mutates into a big green monster. But he appeared to have already become completely non-verbal so I wasn’t able to figure out what was eating his ass. Did you guys have a fight or something?”

“It wasn’t us,” Malik said as he grabbed a bowl and started dishing out a hefty serving of rice and curry sauce for himself. “He was already busy destroying one the computers downstairs when we arrived. I’d say either he got inordinately pissed off when the computer froze up on him or he got an email he didn’t care for.”

“Maybe I should go out there and see if he needs anything?” Justin wondered aloud, standing in front of the glass patio door and looking out at the yard.

“If I were you, Cupcake, I’d let the man cool off a while first. He practically bit your head off downstairs,” Mal sat down with his bowl and looked up worriedly at his friend. “Dude has some serious anger management issues. Why don’t you sit, eat and then if he’s still out there mutilating innocent foliage when you’re done you can try to get through to him then.”

“This is REALLY bad,” Justin intoned once again.

“Yeah . . . You already said that, Jus. Now, come sit down and eat something. You’re not going to try and conquer Brian Kinney’s demons on an empty stomach, are you?” Mal held out a second bowl he’d filled for Justin and waved it back and forth enticingly.

Justin reluctantly moved away from his vantage point at the patio door, took the proffered bowl and sat on the floor at Malik’s feet.

“Shall I put in the movie now. Or would it be better to wait until Brian returns?” Paal asked, holding up the DVD he’d selected.

Everyone agreed that the movie should be started immediately. Nobody knew when Brian was likely to return and the movie wasn’t likely one that Brian would have much interest in anyway. The rest of the group got comfy and Paal hit the ‘Play’ button on the remote. Only Justin seemed too distracted to thoroughly enjoy the movie Paal had chosen - Mike Myers’ ‘The Love Guru’ - which Paal claimed was one of his all-time favorites in spite of the fact that it poked fun at his native culture. He claimed that Myers’ character reminded him of an uncle that lived in Mombai and the Ballywood dance scene was spot on.

They were only about halfway through the movie though when the big front door of the Residence opened unexpectedly and a troubled looking Ted Schmidt walked into the main room.

“Hi everybody!” Ted waved in greeting as he neared the couch where they were all congregated. “Sorry to interrupt your dinner and movie night. Um, Dane, could I have a word?”