Ghosts of Past

Only around eleven at night did Justin have a moment to catch a small break. He loved tending the bar, and the customers were patient enough with his fumbling on his first night at work.

Luke, the other bartender, was in the other corner of the bar, chatting with one of the waitresses. Justin looked around, trying to spot Izzy, but he couldn't make out much in the semi-dark smoke filled room.

"A double shot of Beam."

Justin's attention was jerked by a sharp voice from his right. For a fraction of second, he thought Brian was there, but then he shook his head out of the daze.

"Right away, sir," he answered quickly.

The man scowled at being addressed as sir, eyeing the new boy with interest. "I'm Evan."

"I'm new," Justin said shakily, staring at his hand in horror when it trembled. He hoped it wasn't going to rebel on him, not so soon.

"Well, hello, New. Nice name you got there," Evan joked.

Justin flushed, placing the drink on a paper napkin in front of the man. "Uh, I mean…I'm Justin. It's my first time, can't you tell?"

"Oh, here I thought I was intimidating you," Evan teased, sipping from his glass.

"Pfft. I'm not easily intimidated."

"So, say…New, are you available after closing hours? We could grab a coffee."

Justin gaped at Evan, unsure if to be flattered or freaked out by the blatant offer.

Evan downed his glass, leaning closer. "Has anyone told you what beautiful lips you have?"

Justin shot Luke a panicked look, went unseen by his coworker. "Uh, sir, I think—"

"Stop calling me sir. It makes me feel ancient. I'm merely thirty-nine."

Oliver chose that moment to slide on the stool beside Evan. He threw his usual customer an amused look. "Telling lies again?"

"Fuck you, Platt!"

"Sorry, man. Justin is off-limits."

Evan rolled his eyes, pointing a long finger to his empty glass, nonverbally demanding more whiskey. "Of course, he is off-limits. Aren't they all? There's always a new guy, a John, a Tom, a Steve, a…Justin." Evan eyed Justin up and down. "They're all unavailable."

"Bad day at work?" Oliver asked, knowing why Evan was in a bitchy mood.

"There's a new agency who managed to steal my client—the very same I had for ages. They have five employees. FIVE! Their graphic artist is some high and mighty out of college fucker."

"Well, you know how fickle people are, especially in your world. If they offered him something better…" Oliver shrugged, gesturing for Justin to keep pouring. He knew Evan needed the alcohol.

"Good artists are so hard to find these days," Evan lamented. "I haven't worked for over a decade so hard to build Magnetic Steele Inc. for some two timer schmuck to snatch my best account based on lies."

Justin choked back a laugh. "Sorry," he mumbled, biting his tongue to keep from bursting into loud laughter. "It's just…I usually call my mom's new boyfriend Schmuck. His name is Tuck, short from Tucker," he explained, his amusement slipping away when he saw Evan watching him incredulously. "Right, not my business to talk to the customers. Sorry, Oliver."

He escaped through the side door of the bar, heading to the bathroom in a vain attempt to escape the awkward situation.

His phone went off just as he unzipped his pants. "Awesome timing," he answered, laughing.

"Whatcha doing? Did you find a hot stud and take him to the backroom?" Brian queried.

"I'm pissing, actually."

"Kinky. I fucked a guy once who wanted me to piss on him."

"No, I mean, I'm taking a leak. There, better?"

Brian chuckled. "Fascinating. So, how was your day?"

"It's still not over. I'm at the bar I told you about. Oliver, the owner, had me working behind the bar. It's kinda cool."

"As long as it's not on top of it and with funny white powder up your button nose…"

"Are you ever going to let that go?" Justin flushed, heading to wash his hands.

"Hmm…let me think. How about…never?"

"I made one little mistake and you're going to take my eyes out for it." He headed back to the bar, phone still to his ear. "Shit, Bri. Luke, the other bartender, is calling for me. I swear, two minutes ago there was only one person at the bar, now it's like a hundred…"

"Go, give them their poison. I'll finish mine then head to bed."

"We'll talk in the morning, okay?"

"Sure. Later, Sunshine."

"Later." Grinning, Justin pocketed his phone, getting back in his element to give everyone their drink of choice.

Out of the corner of his eye, he could still see Evan, propped against the bar, drink in one hand and phone in the other. He'd discarded his suit jacket and loosened his tie. Justin couldn't believe the resemblance between this man and Brian. He was also tall and lean with dark hair sprinkled with gray, and such deep, expressive eyes, that could stun you in place if they wanted, and he also was dressed in designer clothes.

Justin knew Evan followed his every move, above the top of his phone, keeping him close by demanding more drinks.

Close to one in the morning, Justin was allowed to leave. Izzy was going to stay behind to help everyone clean up.

As Justin walked down the street, hoping to find a cab, he heard footsteps behind him. His whole being froze and everything seemed to close-in, like in the bad days when a panic attack was on its way.

"I couldn't allow such a fine specimen as you to walk home alone," Evan's voice came from behind him.

Justin wasn't sure if to sigh with relief or start screaming for help. Something about the man kept him on alert.

"Are you alright?" Evan touched his elbow, stopping next to him.

"S-sorry. Bad flashback."

"Sorry's bullshit."

Justin turned to gape at the man. Maybe he was Brian's lost twin, separated at birth. Such things happened. "Well, if you could point me in East Village's direction, I'd be grateful."

Evan didn't try to mask his disgust at hearing where the young man lived.

"Yeah, I know. I heard all about it from my fiancé," he said, stressing the last word. Maybe that way the man would get the hint.

"So you don't live together?"

"I don't see how any of this is your business, sir. Look, like I said, I'm not available, and I won't ever be. You can't lull me away with your generous account, smooth talking, or your big dick." Justin stepped on the street, waving his hand at a passing cab. "Good night, sir."

Evan gritted his teeth. Being called sir made all his hair stand up. He was not as old as to be called that, and young Justin had no idea what would hit him when he ensnared him in his grasp. Evan always got what he wanted, who he wanted. And for the moment, he wanted Justin.