At Brian’s office, Ted watched Brian standing at the desk and paging through a proof.  He raised his head, lightly rapped on the doorframe.  “Brian.  I didn’t expect you back so soon.”

Brian briefly looked up, turned stern eyes to the paper, “If you’re worried about the loooong lunch break, you can keep clocking in as usual,” then looked up with approval.  “These are good.”

Didn’t expect that, either.  “Thank you,” Ted mumbled, recovered.  I can do this.  Like a man.  “Brian, I got another job offer.”

Fuck.  “Oh?” Brian calmly covered, sat on his desk.

Ted felt his strength ebb. “C I.  They were impressed with how I represented them.”  Need a good pep song.  Yeah.  Smetana’s High Castle symphony. 

After a fraction’s pause, Brian stood and offered his hand.  So goes opportunity, so goes life.  “Congratulations.  If anyone can make a lump of concrete look exciting, it’s YOU, Theodore Schmidt.”

Ted smiled, shook Brian’s hand.  “That’s quite a…compliment.  Albeit with your usual double-edged sincerity.  I…uh…suppose you’d like the customary two-week notice.  I mean…you’d give me that much if YOU were leaving, right?”

“I’m not going anywhere,” Brian sat back on the desk. “Are you giving notice?”

Brian’s NOT leaving?  Now I’m hearing Pavan For A Dead Princess.  “Not…exactly.” 

Brian leaned forward, arms stiff on the desk, watched Ted’s eyes shift.  Something strange here.  Think I’ll go fish.  “Just let me know when, so I can start training a replacement.  Harry has enough experience.”

“Harry?” Ted eyed back fast and sharp.  “MORGAN?  He can’t even fill out his time card right.”

“The fact is, nobody I get will be able to replace you,” Brian stared candid, serious. “I can’t counter-offer with money that isn’t there.  And I can’t promise when it WILL be.  If you found a better deal, take it.  Just be sure it’s a better deal.”

Ted nodded, eyes on Brian’s in friend-to-friend grip.  “I’ll let you know,” he said low then turned and walked out.

I gave you the facts.  It’s your decision.  Brian’s head drooped, lips tense with the thought of more loss.  File it away.  Fucking file it away until the time comes, then handle it.  Till the time comes, he thought.  Checked his watch.  Pushed off the desk and headed for the door.

Liberty Avenue at Spring dusk.  Friends and lovers strolled in the sparkle of shop signs and window lights as day faded early under high stratus clouds.

Leaning on the brick wall of the closed Art Gallery, Justin passed a jay to Daphne with, “Exactly your type.  His name is Marco Sanchez and…He.  Is.  HOT.”

“How hot?” she dragged deep, passed it off.

“If you saw him?  You’d move to LA,” Justin took a hit.

“Shit!” Daphne smiled wide, punched his arm, “You can’t tell me shit like that unless you bring him here for a visit,” boosted her bust and primped bouncy hair.  “Maybe he’ll decide to move HERE.”

Watching her, Justin suppressed a laugh until it finally snorted out and made her sock him again.  “Ow.  Just kidding!”  He handed back the weed.

“Yeah?  Well it didn’t sound like it,” she giggled, tapped the roach out on the wall.  High beam headlights hit them and she rushed the bit into her purse.

 Justin smiled at the car whipping to the curb.  “It’s just Brian.”

“In a Lexus?”

“Long story,” Justin clipped as he walked over to greet his partner stepping from the driver side.

Brian smiled, “If it isn’t the love of my life,” bumped Justin’s shoulder on the bypass, hugged Daphne and planted a noisy kiss on her cheek.  “You’re looking radiant.  Need a lift somewhere?”

“I have my car, but thanks for asking,” she swooned.

“Thank YOU for starting my night off right.” Brian pulled from her hold and turned to Justin, who despite a big smile stood rigid.  Even as Brian gathered him into tight arms.

“She gets a kiss before I do?”

“She didn’t get any tongue.” Brian dove in, felt Justin’s arms settle like a shawl on his neck as their lips touched and opened for deep connection.

Daphne smiled like a matchmaker at a wedding.  “Guess I’ll leave you two guys to yourselves.  Have fun.”  And she turned to leave.

Catching her movement, Justin broke away, “Wait!” left Brian and clasped Daphne’s hand.  “I don’t know when I’ll be back again.”

“Doesn’t matter.  You’re always my best friend,” Daphne wrinkled her nose, swung her arms around his shoulders and pressed her cheek to his neck.  “Email me.  Often,” then whispered, “Is he like Brian?”

“Nobody’s like Brian,” Justin hugged tight, kissed her hair.  “He’s the only one who has ME.”

“Jerk,” she sniffled, backed off.  “Now go have a good time before I start crying and ruin it.”

He held her hand until her leaving slipped it free.  “See ya,” he swallowed, watched her pace faster without turning and knew she was hiding tears.  His own eyes welled and even the little stoned high wouldn’t stop it.  Daphne could always take him back to a more carefree time.  And other than Brian, she was like home.  He took two slow breaths to clear his head, flinched at the unexpected touch of large hands on his shoulders and Brian’s voice near the back of his head.

“I stopped at the Loft and put your designer luggage in the trunk.”

“Are you THAT in a hurry to get rid of me?” Justin weakly smiled as he watched Daphne get into her car.

“Saving time we might need later.” And it would be easier on both of us if you didn’t go out the Loft door with a packed bag again.  Brian pressed against Justin, leaned beside his ear.  “I thought we’d do something bizarre and unnatural tonight.”

“Babylon?” Justin guessed, hint of smile returning.  He could feel Brian’s cheek brushing a no against his hair.  “Not the Liberty Baths.”  Another no move.  The next guess made him twist a wry look at Brian’s face.  “Ben and Mikey’s?”

Brian’s brows knit. “I never thought about that, but you’re close.  Really close.” Then breathed through a smile, “Dinner and a movie.”

“You’re shitting me.”

“I never said scat kink.”  He ran a hand up the back of Justin’s head, mussing his hair.  “I’ll let you choose dinner, but I pick the movie.”

“Deal,” Justin nodded, smoothed his hair back down and followed Brian to the car.  This ought to be good.

Necking.  An ageless form of pleasure. 

Crunched wrappers and drinks on the dash, dim light with occasional flashes on their clothed bodies in the back seat, Brian and Justin were deep into serious kissing.  Heads twisted as they stayed lip-to-lip, tongues sliding wet and smooth over, around, alongside anywhere in reach.

Justin backed off an inch.  “First time I’ve ever been to a drive-in movie.  And I can’t believe you let me eat in your car.”

“It’s not my car.  And I can’t believe you went all day on one burger.”

Justin slid his head under Brian’s chin and against his chest.  “Wasn’t really hungry.”  He felt Brian’s arm lock around his shoulders, stared out, spread his hand on Brian’s shirt and rode its silk over relaxed muscle.  “Finally a real, working artist.  I don’t think I could’ve gone this far without you.”

“You would have.  All I did was give you more ways to figure it out. And a few more ways to fuck.  So don’t go giving me all the credit when YOU did most of the work.”

“But you were always there for me.”  Where was I for YOU.  “Remember when you had that dream about going to New York?  Why didn’t you?”

Brian sniffed back an old wonder, leaned his cheek against the seatback and stared at the dark fabric over head.  Heard a crash of thumping, throbbing music.  And there he stood in royal black, icon of envy and desire, surrounded by bare flesh sheened with sweat and glitter and lust.  Until his image swirled into the color and gleam and flowed down like melting wax, drifting out of sight.  Leaving just a darkness.  Or was it the dark car interior.  Because that’s all he saw now.  “I stopped that dream a while ago.”

“You could start again.”

Brian deflected unease by gripping Justin’s neck.  “If you’d like me farther away, I can always open shop on a cruise ship on the Atlantic.”  Start again?  Dream on.

Justin sat up, ran an easy hand around Brian’s neck. “If I wanted you farther away, I’d be painting sunsets in Samoa.  Making it in New York was the one thing I remember you wanting most, and I think you can still do it.”

“It may have been ONE of the things I wanted at one time.  But right now…” Brian tilted his head, pulled Justin’s face toward him for a light kiss, used his free hand to unbutton and unzip Justin’s pants, assured,  “I’ll make sure you’re still fit to travel.”

“We’re a long way from running water.  Is that why you brought along my clothes?” Justin unbuttoned Brian’s jeans.

“Nope.  That’s why I brought towelettes and tissue.  The clothes are in case we run out.”

“Always the advance planner.”  Someday I’ll figure it out.  How to give you…what you’ve given me.

They slowly disrobed, tossed clothing in the front seat, kissed and fondled bare skin.

Justin licked Brian’s lips, breathed, “There isn’t a lotta room back here.”

“Movie-goers have been managing it for decades,” Brian smiled, reached into a seatback mag holder, picked out a packet and ripped it open.  “One for you…” noticed Justin’s raised brows.  “For easy cleanup.  Unless you don’t plan to cum.”

Justin exhaled a silent laugh, watched Brian’s hands roll it down his shaft, closed his eyes only once with a placid moan when Brian reached base, cupped and squeezed his package.  Another packet rip.

“Your turn,” Brian handed off.

“Might be our last fuck for awhile,” Justin paused the ring above Brian’s cocktip, flashed a quick look up and back.  Brian didn’t answer.  Guess not, Justin resigned, continued.

Better.  Let’s shut that door right now.  Brian chose to watch Justin’s expression, smiling and attentive as the feel on his dick.  Flowed his hand up Justin’s arm.  Shoulder.  Neck.  Right into his hair.  Weaving every tactile pleasure into one big sensory thrill. 

When he saw Justin finish and raise what-next eyes, Brian leaned into him for one more kiss, at the same time shifted center seat then backed off.  “Turn around and straddle my legs then lean over the front seat as far as you can.”

Justin did so, bridged his chest across the console space between seatbacks and hooked an arm over each corner while watching Brian in the rearview mirror.  “How do YOU see the movie?”

“I’d only miss a minute.”  Brian lightly pressed a hand on the small of Justin’s back,  “Sway it down and give me your best side,” flinched when Justin slapped his arm.  “I meant ANGLE.  It’s dark back here,” Brian chuckled, uncapped a small bottle with a two-inch tip.

Justin felt Brian’s thumb and forefinger, cool exposure, a little finger pad check and an odd intruder that made his dick twitch.  “What IS that?”

“Extra lube.  I told you I’d make sure you’re fit to travel.”  Brian drew out the nozzle, released his hold, squeezed the last of the bottle on his cock and coated well.  “Ready to sit back and discover how the term ‘drive-in’ came about?”

“I love your interest in my education,” Justin wrinkled a smile over his shoulder, felt Brian’s hot palms on his hips and guiding him back.  Won’t think about later or tomorrow or anything else that could blight our time right now…      

In the back seat of a rental.  Parked beside an island with no speaker stand.  On a deserted stretch of pavement beside the foundation of a long gone giant screen that once blocked the glow of highway lamps and the lights from passing cars.

A few miles away…

A spotlight featured three Divas lip-synching ABBA to a single microphone on a raised stage: Emmett flaming in long copper locks and sultry satin; Mikey in his Godiva glitter; Darren in strawberry coif and chiffon.  At Garth’s stuffy bash in a banquet room of candle-lit round tables in white linen and graced by Pittsburgh’s finest gay pomp.

The song ended, lights went up to near candle-glow, spectators clapped genuine pleasure.  Garth grabbed his own mike like he was Sinatra at the Flamingo.  “Glad you all enjoyed the show.  Our very own Shanda Leer,” and stretched his hand toward the delirious, bowing Diva before addressing the crowd, “What I didn’t know – and Darren surprised me with this – is that his stunning backup singers are none other than that fabulous party-planner, Emmett Hunnicutt -”

“That’s ME,” Emmett shined, did his See-The-Light wave and swung some hip.

“So much for horse’s color,” Michael side-mouthed.  Until Garth finished…

“- and the creative genius behind the Rage comic, Michael Novotny!  Let’s give another round of applause to these remarkably talented entrepreneurs!”

All three glowed to the tribute until it and the spotlight dimmed, and dinner music started.

Darren, heading down the stage steps, smiled over a shoulder at trailing Emmett, “You two have my eternal gratitude,” and almost ran into an admiring, well-dressed Gent.

“Marvelous entertainment.  You’re all welcomed to join my table for cocktails,” he offered, eyes only on Darren.

Emmett glanced over his shoulder at Michael close behind.  “Sweetie?” then added under breath, “In case Darren needs more backup?”

Michael answered Gent, “Thanks, but I have to be somewhere,” whispered to Em, “Jenny’s home tonight.”

“Then you give her a kiss for Auntie Em.” Emmett stepped down beside Darren, who mouthed a hearty thank-you to Michael before he, Emmett and Gent moved on.

Michael’s gait to the – Ladies Room?  No.  MENs Room - was halted by a hand on his arm.

“Mr. Novotny?” Garth, flanked by a younger Exec, smiled wide when Michael turned and stopped.  “You absolutely MUST be the guest of honor at my next event.  As a new and rising star.”

“You mean…for Rage?” Michael watched Garth nod.  “Actually, I’m only half the creativity.  All the artwork is done by my partner, Justin Taylor.”

“Then by all means, have HIM join us as well.”  Garth presented a folded card, watched Michael accept and read it.  “Three weeks from tomorrow.  And I will not take a no,” he grinned as he and his consort headed back to their table.

Michael stared at them in serious thought, read the card again and smiled at the potential before leaving the party behind.

Garth’s Exec wasn’t as impressed.  “Do you actually read comic books?”

“Heavens no,” Garth scoffed, stopped at their table and lifted two martinis.  “I understand that little venture may become a feature film,” he handed a drink to his guest, “So they obviously know the right people.  Perhaps they would be willing to pass on a little story I’ve been working on myself,” Garth announced with smug modesty, toasted air to his smirking friend then sipped his drink like it was nectar.

At the next table, wig off and ears burning, Emmett smiled at Gent laughing with Darren then cast a furtive glance at Garth on the schmooze.

In the apartment hall, Michael in tee and jeans unlocked his door and stepped in to find Ben standing with a finger to his lips and pointing to their bedroom.  “Was she good?”

“Perfect,” Ben said low as Michael walked past.  “Is there something I should know about you that you haven’t told me before?”

“Like what?” Michael answered, preoccupied with glancing at a small crib in their room.

Ben moved with him.  “Your blonde wig and women’s clothes?”

“Their Emmett’s,” Michael narrow-eyed.  “I meant to give them back after Pride Day and forgot.  Well, I remembered THIS time, so don’t worry about it.”  He turned with rolling eyes, shook his head and headed for his desk.  “It was a SHOW, not a lifestyle choice.”

Satisfied, Ben trailed Michael again.  “So how did it go?”

“We were fabulous,” Michael grumbled as he gathered papers on the desk.  “Garth Racine wants Justin and me at his next fest.”  He dug the card from his pocket, handed it to Ben then aligned his sheets.  “I need those sketches.  Justin call?”

“Not yet,” Ben smiled at the card.  “So you’re on the A list now.”

“A-hole list, according to Brian.  But he can afford to fuck ‘em off.  I can’t.”  He fanned a thin stack of pages, scrutinized the top one.  “What are all these copies of Hunter’s birth certificate doing out here?”

“Oh.  He needed them to put in work applications.”

“Yeah, well he should put the original back where he found it and just keep these.”  Michael opened his desk drawer, filed the cert then took the copies to Hunter’s room.

Ben set the card on Michael’s computer, went to check on Jenny but was halted by Michael’s soft, “Ben?” coming from Hunter’s room.  Veering to investigate, he saw Michael’s worried attention on a couple sheets in hand.  “What?”

“Look at this.”  Michael handed over an application that Ben read with equal concern.  Until he was startled by a sudden low voice.

“What are you doing?” Hunter stood in the doorway, chin raised, eyes sharp.

Ben whirled around with low intensity, held out the sheet.  “Don’t sneak up like that.”

“You SAID -”

“Shhh,” Michael pointed to their room and set the argument tone for contained explosion.

“You said be quiet when I got in.  And that’s MY shit,” Hunter snatched the app.

“Construction work?”  Ben strained for quietly.  “Do you realize how dangerous that is?”

“How many naked construction dudes have you seen?” Hunter watched them side-eye each other, waiting for the first one to speak.  “Forget that.  What I mean is…they wear hard hats.  Cool steel-toed boots.  Heavy gloves and tough threads.”

Ben ventured, “And the medical exam?  Are you ready for that?”

“Nobody asked yet.” Don’t start that HIV shit again.  “Look.  I’m seventeen and I know what I’m doing,” he fired low, started to slam the door, realized he was on the wrong side of it and snapped a directing hand out.  After Ben and Michael grudgingly left, he yanked the door hard, caught it an inch from banging and eased it quietly shut.

In the kitchen, Ben set a kettle on the range, turned the flame to max, glanced at Michael in troubled thought and leaning cross-armed against the sink.  “You don’t suppose he’s doing it to counter…maybe some guilt over what he’s done in the past, do you?”

“Great.  A Born-Again-Breeder.” Michael breathed out, relaxed his arms to clasped hands on his thighs.  “Still you might have something.  But should we encourage it?”

“I can’t see how we can stop it, as long as he knows the risks and takes extra care.”

Another parent trap, Michael nodded, turned down the flame.

From flames in the city, to taillights at the airport…

Brian eased off the gas as he surveyed stopped cars lined beyond the foot of the main terminal entry ramp.  A traffic jam?  This fucking time of night?  Strobing red and white light bounced off the higher structures.  “Looks like we’re in time for a drug bust.”

Justin fidgeted, “Just let me out here.  I can’t miss this flight.”

“You will if you have to hike all the way up that fucking ramp.”  Brian spun the wheel, sliced through traffic, swerved left and into the short-term parking entrance, glanced at the line of cars.  “What people do to avoid paying a couple dollars.”

Justin watched him take a ticket, scout for running travelers.  On their slow drive up the lot, anxiety crept in.  “Are you gonna get your money’s worth and come with me?”

“I think I came enough with you for one night.”  Brian pulled to the curb, idled the car beside the covered walkway, popped the trunk.  Before he could swivel around for a parting hug, Justin sprang out the door, slammed it hard and disappeared behind the raised trunk lid.  Fuck, Brian gripped the wheel, leaned back and exhaled a breath at the ceiling.  Just give him a minute.

Justin yanked out his duffel, plopped it down then quickly wiped a sleeve across his eyes - I swore on Vic’s memory I wouldn’t fucking do this – pressed a forearm to his nose and snorted back a trickle.  Cleared his throat and breathed a’ Lamaze.  Get it together.

Just in time, Justin sighed, slammed the trunk as he heard Brian’s door open and saw him moving in.  “You should’ve stayed there.  I wasn’t gonna leave without -”

Brian shut him up with a kiss.  More like glad-you-came than grab-it-while-you-can.  No need to lance the cut.  “Now go make a movie.”

Glad he’d vented earlier, Justin could smile and focus.  He snapped up his bag, grabbed Brian’s neck, boosted up on his toes and smacked his own kiss.  “I’ll save you a front row seat.  Later.”

Brian felt Justin’s hand slide away like a scarf leaving his neck cold and exposed.  Watched him hurry through the door and sprint along the windows of the lit corridor.  Each time you leave, you’ll be a little more gone.  Until you don’t cry anymore.  Then you’ll know you made the right choice.  Or made the wrong one and moved on.

Brian’s view was thwarted by a group of Liberty Air crewmembers standing on the curb.  All bitching about a bus accident and craning for their ride. 

Except for one looking back at HIM a little intrigued and a little too long.  Model-quality face, well-fitted uniform and broad Captain’s hat, none too shy and all smiles, Captain sidled his way.  “Seeing a boy off to college?”

“A man off to work,” Brian corrected as his matched-height observer stopped close.  Several gears kicked in on autopilot.  “So.  How long is your layover?”

Captain smiled wider.  “I’m told it’s long enough.”

A minivan’s headlights drew their attention as it pulled in behind the Lexus and crewmembers rushed to board.  One Flight Attendant lifted her bag, shouted, “Captain?  You coming?”

Brian raised a half smile to Captain’s patient stare.  “Where to?”

Captain yelled to the Flight Attendant, “I’ll meet you in B Concourse noon tomorrow,” then to Brian, “Downtown Carlton.”

“Excellent choice,” Brian toned while Captain retrieved his bag.  He opened the passenger door, stared at the empty space.  At times I need to fill it with something.

In a dark hotel room, seated on the window ledge, one knee up, naked body in shadows and silver, Brian watches the lights of departing planes.  High above, Justin presses his head to the window and views his city as an island of crushed diamonds floating away on a black velvet sea.

Song: “Let Go” by Frou Frou

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