Friday at the office. A day to cap the week’s business and wind up for a hot hereafter. Unless it was no ordinary Friday.

Cynthia hesitated beside Brian’s open door, took a breath and stepped into view. Seeing her well-dressed, captivating boss at his coffee bar, she tapped lightly on the doorframe rather than rattle him into an accident.

“Yes?” Brian focused on pouring.

“That’s your third cup,” Cynthia entered, “And it’s only ten. Rough night?”

“I wouldn’t rank Presby with the baths.”

“Not…” Cynthia held back Justin’s name, but Brian caught it.

“Family member. Everything’s okay,” Brian smiled.

“That’s good,” Cynthia strained, silently organizing her thoughts.

“Anymore laps around the bush, you’ll weigh two pounds. Spill.”

“Crater called. He wants more time to consider…another offer.”

Brian took a sip, scowled,“From whom?”

“He wouldn’t say. Just that he’d get back to us.”

“Check my schedule. See if I can squeeze in a visit around lunch.” He thought a moment, rubbed his fingertips against a temple. “I’ll need a rental car. And Crater’s contract.” Brian expected Cynthia to leave, but she stayed planted. “There’s more?”

“Hemmerback cancelled.”

“What? Why?” Brian slammed his full cup down hard enough to spurt coffee onto the bar, glanced at his watch. “He agreed to sign today. We put HOURS into that account.”

“He signed with Neville,” Cynthia almost felt compelled to duck Brian’s slay-the-messenger glare.

“How the fuck did they get to him so fast?”

Cynthia shook her head. “Hemmerbeck could be playing us.”

Brian looked off, tapped a finger on the coffee bar. “Not that damned fast. Almost like Neville already knew what we had.” Brian shot Cynthia a furrow-brow. “Has Vance mentioned any problems with his accounts?”

“Nothing I know of,” Cynthia shook her head, “But I’m not his assistant.” She watched Brian roll his lips tight in thought. “Anything I can do?”

“Not unless you know any security experts.”

“Yeah, I do,” her smile rode up. “He’s young, smart, discreet and cheap.”

“Just what I had in mind,” Brian raised an interested brow.

“Does that mean I get a raise?”

“Go back to the ‘cheap’ part. And set up an interview as soon as you can.”

“Yes sir,” she smiled, glad to see him more relaxed. The raise was worth a shot. Even if Brian did think it was a joke.

Justin walked into Vic’s hospital room and was surprised to see him up and fully dressed.

“Vic. What…”

“Princess. I was just getting ready to leave. Soon as the wheelchair gets here…liability rules, you know.” Vic grabbed his plastic bag of pills off the bed.

“Don’t they keep you till noon?”

“Why? I look like I need to stay longer?” Vic grinned at Justin’s blush. “I wanted to get home before Sis so she wouldn’t go dragging Michael away from the store.”

“How?”

“Ever heard of the bus?” Vic opened his bag, added a box of tissue, tape, water bottle. “And what’re you doing here at nine AM on a school day?”

“I took the day off for some personal stuff,” Justin watched Vic add another item. “You’re taking the spit trays?”

“Well we PAID for all this. It’s not like they’re gonna use it again on somebody else.”

“You could’ve called someone to get you. By the way, I borrowed Brian’s Jeep. But if you’d rather take the bus…” Justin shrugged and faked a departure.

“I never turn down a hot blond with a sharp car.”

A uniformed orderly rattled a wheelchair into the narrow room, spotted Justin. “Mr. Grassi?”

“Thanks for the compliment,” Vic beamed, sat in the chair then twinkled at Justin, “Brian’s Jeep, hunh?”

“I’ll meet you out front,” Justin smiled, winked and left.

At the comic store, Ben leaned on the counter and watched Michael beam over the top of two checks gripped in both hands.

“Our first paychecks on Rage,” Michael laid them on the counter.

“You pay yourself?” Ben took one check and studied it.

Michael felt compelled to answer Ben’s flat scrutiny. “Well…since this is the first year, I’m working with projections.”

“I thought the first issue was a smash hit.”

“One issue doesn’t make a season. Besides, that was mostly Brian. He gave us a start, now it’s up to us to make it work. On our own.”

“Four hundred seventeen dollars a month is…decent,” Ben set the check down.

Michael frowned, “Thanks for the vote of confidence. It COULD end up being a lot more. I just don’t know yet.”

Ben smiled. “No small venture becomes great without courage and heart, and you certainly have a lot of both.” Ben leaned forward, kissed Michael’s lips and got a smile. “Now I’ve got students waiting.”

Michael watched Ben go out the door before losing the smile. He snatched one check off the counter, looked at it and shook his head. He wanted to be thrilled by this first, but it was less then he’d expected. As was Ben’s reaction. So what about Justin.

Steering through light traffic, Justin side-glanced Vic.

“I don’t want to be nosy, but did they find anything?”

Vic leaned back and thought a moment. “If I was smart, I should’ve rode it out…but…I guess I panicked a little…got everybody excited over nothing.”

“I wouldn’t call chest pains nothing.”

“I let myself worry too much, that’s all…and I let it get to me.”

“Worried about what?”

“Oh…nothing, really. Sometimes…thinking…it would’ve been nice to have some kids, or somebody to leave all my knowledge of my great life. I used to be a pretty damned good chef, you know,” Vic leaned forward and nodded. “But Michael’s not interested, and Sis does her own thing,” he leaned back again, looking useless and worn.

“You could teach me,” Justin glanced for a response, saw Vic eye him steady. “I mean, I’ll be on my own, and it sure would be a good thing to know.”

“I thought that you and Brian-”

“It’s not like that. At least…not yet,” Justin broke in, eyes straight ahead. “So. What do you say?”

“Well,” Vic’s brows knit then relaxed, “If you’re not doing anything after school Monday…”

“You got it.”

Vic straightened up, smiling with new life. “I thought we could start with-”

And he rattled off a menu fit for a president while Justin drove, half-listening, half-thinking about Brian at the foot of the bed, far from ecstatic about…something…and not telling him what.

At Torso’s, Emmett watched a young, leather-coated punk facing a rack, arms moving like he was jerking off.

“Honey,” Emmett set a hand on his shoulder, got a startled face-off, “This isn’t the way we normally try things on at Torso’s.” He reached under the punk’s jacket, whipped out a silk shirt stolen from the rack, chirped, “Thanks for shopping. Don’t come back again,” as the punk tore out the door, pushing Justin inside.

“Hi, Sweetie!” Emmett re-hung the shirt, noticed Justin’s quizzed look. “He was late for a date with a cop. So what’re you here for? Silk?” he stroked the shirtsleeve, slinked to the counter and fingered a glass-cased sweater,“Cashmere?”

Justin stepped up, shook his head. “I just wanted to stop by and say thanks. For letting me stay with you. I’m moving out today and didn’t want you to just come home and find everything gone.”

“Honey, you know it’ll be another month till I move in with Ted.”

“I don’t want you to worry about me,” he raised his head with Taylor conviction. “I’ve got everything taken care of.” Well, not exactly yet. But in another hour.

Emmett leaned on the counter, lowered his voice and chin, rolled his eyes up with a cheeky twinkle. “This doesn’t have anything to do with a certain Ad Exec?”

Justin grinned,“News sure travels fast around here.”

“If you want to keep a secret? Never tell anyone who knows a cell phone or Debbie,” Emmett leaned closer to Justin’s face. “You know you’ve got the biggest, baddest of them all. But if that’s what you want, I’m happy for you, Baby.”

“I know more about him than you do,” Justin’s bright eyes blinked. “Maybe you should be more concerned about what HE’S getting.” He gave a cocky smile to cover his reservations. “Let me know if I owe you for anything. I’ll pay you when I drop off your key. Thanks again, Em.”

Emmett watched Justin hike out the door, climb into Brian’s Jeep. For all the cocky smoke, a little hesitance hung in the resolve. That sense of…now that the chase is over…now what. Emmett’s eyes settled for a moment on a picture he’d taped under the glass counter. Him and Ted. His smile thinned as he looked up to see the Jeep blend into traffic, then back at the picture. That makes four of us, Baby. Now what.

Michael volleyed attention between a couple teens in the comic racks, and Justin’s reaction to his first Rage paycheck.

“Michael, I thought you said we’d make about a thousand a month.”

“That was for both of us, not each of us.”

“Well you didn’t make that clear.”

“If I could swing more next month, I’ll do it.”

“I can’t budget when I have to guess about my income every month.” Justin found himself also looking at the teens whose clowning was agitating Michael.

“Look, this is all new to me and I’m doing the best I can. You’ll just have to trust me on it.” Michael left the counter, hot-footed over to the teens who were slapping each other with rolled comics. “Hey. That’s enough, you guys.”

The discussion going nowhere, Justin shoved the check into his pocket and left Michael explaining shopping etiquette to the teens.

In the Jeep, Justin shuffled through two different papers headed “Apartment Rental Agreement.” He looked at the first, cleanly professional. The second was smudged, streaked, obviously run on a bad copier. He leaned back, closed his eyes and let out a slow breath. Snapping to financial reality, he reached into his pocket, pulled a ballpoint and scribbled his signature on the last page of the bad copy.

Brian drives a compact; Michael unrolls a damaged comic; Emmett finds a bare hanger on the rack; Ted yawns heavy-eyed over his calculator; Justin signs for an apartment.

Song: “Some Days Are Better Than Others” by U2

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