Almost But Not Quite

Chapter 8







Brian awoke with a start. He felt like eyes were staring at him. He turned and realized there was a man sleeping in his bed.

"Get up," he barked.

"Wha… What the fuck?" the man demanded as he scrubbed at his eyes.

"I said, 'Get.Up! And.Get.Out!'" Brian punctuated each word to make his intent perfectly clear.

"But…"

"I don't know why you're still here, but your time's up. Get out!"

"Fucking asshole!" the man muttered as he threw back the covers and grabbed his clothes. "Everyone says you're a fucking son of a bitch, and now I know why."

“Yeah, the bitch taught me well,” Brian muttered.

The guy yanked on his jeans and shoes and stomped down the steps.

Brian could see him pull on his sweater and grab a jacket from the sofa. With a resounding clang the loft door slid shut behind him.

"And you were a totally forgettable fuck," Brian called out. He knew the guy wouldn't hear him, but he felt compelled to say it anyway.

Brian lay on his back staring up at the ceiling. Where did he find these tricks? They were getting more and more predictable and less and less interesting. He was going to go totally out of his fucking mind, if something didn’t happen soon. Being unemployed was wearing on his last nerve.

Once again he felt eyes staring at him. He turned his head and there on the dresser leaning against the louvers was a sketch of a pair of eyes, no face, just eyes. It was the fucking drawing that he had spent a hundred bucks on at the GLC. He groaned as he thought about how he could ill afford to have wasted his money on a fucking drawing.

He stared at the eyes that stared back at him. There was something about them. Something that he couldn't quite place. After a minute or so he lay back on the pillow and stared up at the ceiling, trying to make those eyes disappear from his brain.

What was he going to do? The advertising awards were in two days. He didn't want to go there a loser, no job, no prospects, hoping to find someone who might be willing to employ him. Brian sighed. This was not the way his life was supposed to go. Maybe it was time to take matters into his own hands. Maybe he should give a try to starting his own business. Maybe that was the new road he was meant to travel along.

But the thought scared him. He never liked to admit to being afraid, but this scared the shit out of him. It would take everything he had, everything he'd worked for all these years to start up his own agency. And if it failed! Then he'd be the failure that his mother and father always told him he was going to be. He wasn't sure he could stand that. He'd always been successful, but he'd never attempted something like this, something that he would be solely responsible for. He would have a whole company resting solely on his shoulders. He wasn't sure he was up to that, not yet anyway.

But what other choice was there? Nobody in Pittsburgh was going to hire him. They'd want references, and he surely wasn't going to get anything worthwhile in that department from Ryder. Marty Ryder had screwed him over for years, promising him a partnership, and then never following through.

Well Brian would show Ryder, he'd show them all! At that moment Brian made a decision that would change his life. Brian Kinney would start an advertising company, a company of his own, one that would not only rival the Ryder Agency, but would surpass it in every way. He'd show them all.



*****



"Daph?"

"Yeah?" Daphne replied as Justin came up to her locker at St. James Academy.

"I had a phone call from Lindsay. One of my sketches sold for a hundred dollars." Justin could hardly contain his excitement.

"But you don't get the money, do you?" Daphne asked, putting the kibosh on Justin's enthusiasm.

"Well, no," Justin admitted reluctantly. "But my work sold. I'm a professional artist."

Daphne laughed gently. "Yeah, I guess technically you are," she agreed. "But you still have to go to English lit class."

"Fuck!" Justin said, but he followed her down the hall to their first class of the day.



*****



Brian walked out of the gym. He had done his best to convince them to hire him as their adman. It hadn't been very successful. They were thinking about it. Fucking assholes! Thinking about it! Hadn't he paid them thousands of dollars in fees over the years that he had frequented their paltry little establishment? And now when he was offering to promote their business and expand it, they weren't sure he could help them. They didn't have much fucking money to invest in their future. Well, fuck them!

Heading down the street, Brian saw the steps leading up to Woody's just ahead. He needed a drink … bad. He turned and walked up the steps. Seated at the bar he ordered a scotch and threw it back. The familiar burn as it hit his stomach was somehow comforting. He watched Stan, the owner of Woody's, talking to some guy at the end of the bar. He heard the word brochure and immediately perked up. Maybe this was an opportunity to pick up his first client. Sipping on his scotch and listening without being obvious Brian got the gist of what was happening. He waited until the man left before approaching Stan.

"Looking for some PR?" Brian asked.

"Yeah, but that asshole doesn't know shit," Stan muttered shaking his head.

"I'm starting up my own ad agency," Brian said. "I was listening to what butthead was telling you. I have much better ideas."

"I bet you do, Kinney, but I can't afford to hire you. You're way out of my league."

Brian started. He hadn't thought about that. Maybe that was why the gym was so reluctant to hire him. They thought he was going to be way out of their price range. And the truth be told, he would have been, if he was still working for Ryder. But times had changed. What he wanted his company to be someday would be way out of their league, but for now he needed every client he could get.

"Look," Brian said seriously. "I'm just getting started. I'll give you a real break on the cost, and guarantee that you'll raise your numbers by at least a third."

"A third?" Stan said. Brian could see the dollar signs revolving in his eyes. "Draw up a proposal," Stan said before he moved away to wait on a customer.

Brian smiled, as ideas for promoting Woody's were already whirling around in his brain. He had just finished his scotch when the reality hit him that he might have ideas for ads, but he had nobody to bring them to life. Brian sucked as an artist. He knew good art and good advertising, he knew what would work and what wouldn't, he knew style and knock your socks off grab your balls ad campaigns. But he needed an artist if he was going to be able to put any ideas on paper. He couldn't sell what was in his head unless he could make it appear before the buyer.

Brian ordered another scotch. He had a lot to do if he was going to start this company. No, that wasn't quite right. He had a lot to do now that he had officially started his ad agency. He smiled to himself and hoisted his drink in a toast to himself. His first act would be to find an artist to work with, and then as Stan had reminded him, he would go after the type of accounts that he really wanted.



*****



Justin finished filling out the papers on his desk. He heaved a big sigh wondering if all this was just a colossal waste of his time. He pulled the envelope from his desk drawer, filling it with the papers and several selected sketches.

He wished he had the sketch of the eyes that he liked so much, but it had been sold at the GLC show. He'd have to get his other sketches back from Lindsay. None of the others had sold, but that was okay. He still intended to give the sketch of Abe to Lindsay for all her help. He had sold one piece at the show, and that was a start. He closed the envelope and took it with him as he went downstairs.

"Can I borrow the car?" Justin asked his mother.

"Um … you know you just got your license. Where are you going?"

"I'm just going to the post office to mail this. I'll be careful."

"Okay, but come right back," Jennifer Taylor cautioned him. "No fooling around."

Justin rolled his eyes, before picking up the keys to the car and hurrying out. He wasn't a baby as much as his parents might like to think he was. He started the car and quickly headed to the post office. When he had mailed his envelope, he got back in the car. He knew he should go straight home, but he really wanted his other sketches from the GLC. He decided to drive there and get them. He could tell his mother there was a long line at the post office and that's what took him so long.

As Justin turned the corner onto Liberty Avenue to head to the GLC, a black Jeep passed him going the other way. He glanced at the car, and then his heart stopped beating. It was the guy from the streetlamp that night he had tried to lose his virginity. He opened his mouth to call to the man, but he couldn't get his voice to work.

He cleared his throat and called, "Brian!"

He held his breath as the Jeep slowed at the corner. But then the car turned the corner and disappeared from view. Obviously Brian didn't hear him, or chose not to answer. Justin sighed and continued on to the GLC. Another opportunity had been lost.



*****



"He's such a sweet baby," Justin said as he held baby Abe for Lindsay.

"Yes, he is."

"Do you mind if I ask why you named him Abe?"

Lindsay sighed. "I wanted to name him Gus."

Justin giggled.

"What?" Lindsay asked.

"I used to have a teddy bear named Gus," Justin admitted.

"You didn't?" Lindsay laughed.

"I did."

"My partner Melanie wanted the baby named after her grandfather, so he's called Abraham. Abraham Augustus Marcus-Peterson."

"That's quite a mouthful," Justin chuckled. "I'd have called him Gus."

"Me too," Lindsay agreed. "And don't tell Melanie, but I call him Gus sometimes when we're by ourselves."

"Abraham could get him beat up on the schoolyard," Justin cautioned.

Lindsay sighed. "There, your sketches are all out of their frames."

"Shouldn't there be three?" Justin asked with a frown.

"Oh, someone came in the day after the show and bought the one of the jacket hanging on the door."

"Really? So two sold."

"Yes, you've officially sold some of your work."

"Wow! I can't believe it. Who bought them?"

"Two different people."

"No, I meant do you know the people who bought the sketches?"

"Whether I do or not, I'm not at liberty to reveal the names."

"Why not?"

"Because the purchasers asked to remain anonymous."

"Is that customary?"

Lindsay nodded. "Quite often that happens."

"Oh, okay then,” Justin shrugged. “I want you to have the sketch of baby Gus,” Justin said with a twinkle in his eye.

“Oh, Justin, you don’t have to do that,” said Lindsay, touched by the gesture.

“I know I don’t, but I want you to have it. I better get going. My mother thinks I'm at the post office."

“Well, thank you. I’ll put your sketch in a place of honor in our home.”

Justin smiled as Lindsay took Abe from his arms. Lindsay waved goodbye as the young man made his way out of the GLC. She remembered how hard it was to come out to her parents. She didn't envy Justin what he would have to face somewhere down the road.



*****



Brian sat at his desk in the loft. He scrolled through all his former clients. He knew he couldn't touch any of them as long as they were signed to Ryder. But he also knew that contracts ran out. He was making a list of all the clients with contracts that would run out during the next year. When he had that list he started a second list of potential clients, ones who had crappy ads with other companies. He would start working up some ideas and see just how many customers he could pilfer from ad agencies who had been his former competition at Ryder, and were now the ones he was going to go after.

As he checked information on the internet, he wondered what Liberty Air was up to. They had been his largest client, but they no longer belonged to him. He wondered if they had stayed with Ryder after he left. Googling anything related to Liberty Air, Ryder and advertising, he drew in a sharp breath as he found something that made his blood boil.

"Fuck!" Brian reacted.

There on the screen in front of him was the latest Liberty Air advertisement, his advertisement. This was the board he had shown Kip Thomas that day in his office, the day he fucked Kip senseless. It was also the day that changed his life forever.

And there on the screen were the credits for the ad. Created by Kip Thomas for the Ryder Agency it read. Brian glared at the screen. He could hardly believe that Kip would steal his ideas, wholesale rob him of what he had created, and then claim it for his own. But there it was in color and high definition, on the screen in front of him.

Brian continued to stare at his ad. Then he leaned back in his chair. The ad was damn good, and someday he would win back Liberty Air and claim what was rightfully his.

He got up from the computer and went to the bar cart. He needed a drink.