By morning, Brian awoke to the smell of coffee, the high pitch of Gus’s laughter and conversational tones that sounded like Linz and Justin.  He dragged out of bed for his standard naked stroll to the bathroom, stopped.  Make a statement about his rights in his own home?  Fuck.  He turned back, snatched his sweat pants off the bed platform and conceded that he’d come a long way from dazzling Jennifer Taylor.

In the living room, Gus smiled wide-eyed at Sesame Street Cartoons; Mel monitored his choice as she stood swaying side-to-side with Jenny in her arms.

In the kitchen, Linz rinsed breakfast bowls and placed them in the dishwasher while Justin sat at the counter and doodled new characters on a sketchpad.  First to notice Brian shirtless in his sling, barefoot and drifting toward him, Justin grunted, “Hey.”

“Aren’t you supposed to be earning a living?”

“Debbie called about five.  The Diner’s closed because raw sewage backed up into the kitchen.  They don’t know when they’ll reopen.”

Brian took a stool beside Justin. “Yes, it could take a while to distinguish it from the food.”

“Bri-an,” Linz swung around with that bug-eyed look that said his being funny bordered on despicable.  “There’s a lot more at stake.”

“Yeah. I don’t know what Deb’s gonna do,” Justin shook his head.  “She depends a lot on her tips.  You don’t suppose Kinnetik could use an employee cafeteria, do you?”

Brian saw the quick look between Linz and Justin.  Scheming little devils.  “Hm.  I can’t have them taking two-hour lunch breaks because the Diner’s closed and they’ll have to go further out.”  Then darkened with a new thought.  “Provided there’s still an office left.” He stared directly at Justin.  “It WAS a bathhouse.”

“The drains,” Justin sank, lightly rubbed Brian’s thigh.

“Oh Brian,” Linz uttered, glanced at Mel and for the first time saw more concern than apathy.  “I was just about to check on the house.  Make sure it’s okay before we take the kids back.  If you come with me, we could stop by your office.”

Brian grimly smiled at sunlight through the living room curtains.  “It’s not raining.  And it’s Saturday.  Why not?”  He looked at Justin, a nonverbal invitation.

“I’ll stay and help Mel with Gus.”

“Wise choice.  That way if I want to grab a quickie while I’m out, Linz can go shopping and you won’t have to hang around waiting.”

“Like that’s what I’d do,” Justin ribbed in stride while Mel stared a dagger at Brian.

In Debbie’s basement…

Michael started down the stairs, twisted a look back. “She thinks we’re at the store.  I told her to wait for me before coming to the house.”  He turned forward, slowed then stopped on the lowest clean step and winced, “It’s a nightmare.”

Water had receded to a shallow brown pool trapped by the plugged drains.  Papers, drapery, boxes and her Home Shopping Network collection were crud-covered trash.  Mud streaked the walls to the two-foot watermark and coated bottom steps with grizzly clumps.

Emmett stepped down behind him, crunched a face.  “You’re not kidding.  At least the power’s back on.  My god.  It smells like a swamp.”

“How would YOU know?”

“Back in Hazelhurst?  We had this -”

“Never mind.  It’s not important.  What IS important is, how do I keep her out of here until it’s presentable…if that’s possible.  On BOTH.”

“Well…” Emmett tried optimistic, “Between you, Hunter,” then wavered “…and…and me.  And Ben -”

“No way,” Michael spun back.  “You heard that Fireman.  There may be raw sewage mixed in that mess and who knows WHAT you can pick up.  I’m not exposing Ben to that.  He can’t afford to get sick,” he trailed off in thought.  Ben was doing well now, but it was never guaranteed.

“Sorry.  It was just a suggestion.  I didn’t mean -”

“No, I’M sorry,” Michael mumbled.  “Thanks for offering to help.  Unfortunately, a few bucks’ worth of rubber gloves and bleach are just the beginning.” 

Back at the Loft, Mel glanced at Gus still involved with Big Bird.  She carefully lowered Jenny into the playpen then trudged to the kitchen counter, sat on a stool and watched Justin set two cups in the dishwasher.  “She’s finally down. Believe me, she’s usually a lot better than this.”

“My Mom says babies can sense when something’s wrong.” Justin noticed her glum face and pulled two clean cups from the cabinet.  “Coffee’s still hot.”

“Why do I feel like I’m at the Diner?” she tried joking but bombed and knew it.  “Just black.”

Justin filled a cup and smiled, “I’m fast and cute. Tip big,” as he set it in front of her.  “When Linz gets back, I can drive you home and help clean up.  And if you need money for anything, I have some put aside -”

“Justin,” Mel gripped his arm, softened, “Thanks, but we’ll be okay. You have a good heart and you’re really sweet.  Any decent gay man would snap you up in a minute.”

“One DID,” he winked.

Mel didn’t agree. “Why do you do it?” 

“What?”

“Put up with him.  The back rooms, other men…how can you justify that?”

Stunned yet bold enough to answer, Justin poured himself a coffee.  “It’s a fact, over sixty percent of men and forty percent of women cheat on their partners.  And that’s just the ones who admit it.  They don’t say what percentage was for kicks and what was for love.”  Justin set his cup beside Mel’s, spoke soft and serious.  “I’ll bet most of it was little more than the thrill of something different.  I won’t deny him that freedom, and he’s always let me have the same.”

“The gospel according to Brian,” she muttered, sipped some coffee.

Accustomed to her snark, Justin shrugged, “Nothing wrong with that.”

Mel stared unusually sincere.  “For HIM.  But why should YOU have to settle for less?”

“If you mean, do I want him to always want only me…” Justin looked off, briefly pulled at a sideburn like he was checking its length, pat it down, “Yeah.  I think about it.  And I’m pretty sure I could be happy with just him,” then met her gaze.  “But that’s not the reality.  And probably isn’t for a lot of guys.  So I really thought about it, and you know what?  I found out I wasn’t just settling for Brian.  He may not give me everything I want, but he tries to give me everything I need.  I guess it all comes down to, do I love him for who he is?  Or who I want him to be?  And if I want perfection, should I throw away the closest thing TO it and search for something that isn’t humanly possible.”

Mel studied her cup, harsher tone, “Don’t fool yourself.  Just because someone’s upfront and open about it doesn’t make it something you have to live with.”

Justin wized, “Are we still on Brian?”

Caught in thoughts of Linz, Mel hesitated before covering with a sip of brew.  “You may wake up one day and realize he’s not what you thought.  Could be when you’re thirty…” she gazed off, “And what’ll you do at forty.”

“Probably be with a fifty-two-year-old who likes middle-aged ass,” Justin grinned.

“You’re that sure about him.”

“As long as he keeps trying, so will I.”

“Even knowing you may never be enough to satisfy him?”

Justin smiled aside, amazed at how Mel skated around emotional issues like Brian often did – must be some kind of alpha thing - then turned back with a low, warm tone.  “There’s no way I’ll know that unless I’m him.  And if he was that unsatisfied, he wouldn’t stick around.”  Justin turned his cup again, “So I guess Linz is still around, hunh?”

Too personal and disturbing.  Mel cool-clipped, “She hasn’t found the right place yet.”

“Oh,” Justin nodded to his cup.  Yes she has, YOU have, you both know it, but you’re willing to give it up.  And you think OUR gospel sucks.

A couple squeaks from the baby gave Mel an escape.  “Thanks for the coffee,” she smiled and headed for the playpen.  She hadn’t intended to aim her frustration at Brian.  And how it turned to self-analysis with Justin…a young, inexperienced kid?…fucking lunacy.  Exhaustion.  That had to be it.  And a rough, ugly night.  Mel, get a grip.  Get a shrink.  Get on with single motherhood.  You can do it.  You can do anything.

At Mel and Linz’s…

Brian and Linz sat together on the lowest clean step, his arm around her as she bit her lip, gripped her knees and quietly wept.  Water had wicked up the drywall above the two-foot watermark and blistered the paint.  Below, the solid color of sludge on clothing, toys, furniture.

“I’ll take care of the furnace, hot water tank…” Brian scanned the once cozy, finished family room turned mud pit, his own voice fading at the scope of the expense.  “…ripping out the walls…”

“I can’t let you do all that,” she sniffed back, wiped her eyes.  “And I can’t leave Mel with this.”

Brian stood up.  “Well, the offer stands.  Your decision.  Ready to move on?” He held out his hand, followed her gaze and pinpointed it on a muddy teddy bear.  “It’s gone.  It’s over.  We move on from here.  Come on.”

She looked up with reddened eyes.  “Sometimes people just need time to grieve.”

Brian studied her a moment.  Grieving over a ten-dollar toy?  So Lesbian.  And so fucking non-productive.  Not like it was a Corvette or…somebody you care about leaving you. 

He stared at remnants of not just cheap items, but good times they represented.  Covered in mud.  Gone.  He recalled the sense of ending after Michael took the Vette.  Anxiety fought and hidden when he’d heard about Brett’s job offer on the tail of a decision that had taken so long to become words.

So he sat down.  I get it now. Whenever you’re ready.

At the Loft, Justin held the baby and watched local news footage of river crest warnings and roadblock advisories.  He heard the Loft door and swiveled around.  Linz’s streaky face and puffed eyes said all, so no need to ask.  “Hey, Linz.  I found some rags and gloves to help out.”

“Thank you, Justin. We’ll probably need them.  Where’s Mel?”

“In the bathroom with Gus.”

As she hurried away, Brian stepped up.  “Going after my Father Of The Year title?”

“Mel’s beat, and Jenny gets cranky when she’s down so I thought I’d give Mel a break.”  Justin shifted the baby higher.  “She’s really cute.”

“All babies look like Steve McQueen.”

“Who’s he?”

“We’ll rent The Great Escape sometime.” In a low guard moment, Brian smiled at the baby and brushed his fingertips over her fine dark hair then quickly pulled back.

Justin caught that rare peek into the man’s soul, like the first night with Gus.  And the hair thing.  Little intimate details few noticed.  Things that also slipped out when Brian was troubled and vulnerable.  “Is it that bad?”

“They can move in but the basement has to be gutted.  Mikey hasn’t called, so I’m sure he’s busy at Deb’s.  A lot of businesses have pumps like this building, so most of the stores are open.  Rag mop stock is at an all-time high.”

Justin finally risked, “What about Kinnetik?” and held his breath when Brian stalled.

“The floors don’t look much worse than when the bathhouse was in full swing.  But I expect to be open for business as usual Monday.  Fail to deliver and the clients go elsewhere.”

“Marketing rule?”

“Gardner Vance’s screensaver.”

Linz was back, Gus running after her and Mel following, shagging wet hair.  Linz gently took the baby, smiled, “She’s asleep.  You’re hired.”

“I think it was Brian’s voice.”

“Has that effect on a lot of people,” Mel snipped, more like herself.

Before Brian could answer, Gus clamped onto his leg.  “Daddy, we were in da sower.”

Brian grinned at Mel’s wet hair.  “He’ll be gay for sure now,” with a little tongue-tip touché for Mel’s narrowed glare.

Mel noticed Linz’s tired face.  “I’ll take her.  Why don’t you go freshen up?” And for a moment when they transferred Jenny, a bit of old magic surfaced.  But vanished as quickly when Mel turned away, “Come on Gus.  Let’s get your sister ready to go,” and Linz retreated to Brian and Justin.

“We decided to head back and work from there.  Thank you for everything.”

Watching Linz select fresh clothes and head for the bathroom, Justin started, “I’ll go -” bit his lip indecisively and looked at Brian.  “How are you gonna clean up Kinnetik?”

“Threaten the workers with an unpaid lockout if they don’t help.  Or offer…” he rolled his eyes and cringed, “Overtime.”  He sensed Justin wasn’t buying when Justin glanced at Mel then back at him.  “I don’t have to live there.  Go on with THEM.”

“If you promise me you won’t do anything risky.”

“Have you no respect for quality of life?” Enough with the drilling glare.  “I’ll get Theodore and Cynthia on it.”

A quick kiss to seal the deal then Justin watched Brian round his desk, pull a phone headset from a drawer, fire up his computer.  Like watching a one-armed Han Solo gear the Millenium Falcon for Star Wars battle.  Justin picked up the diaper box and smiled as he walked past the desk on his way to the foyer.  You’re my hero. Most of the time.

Brian touched his speed dial and waited.  Waited.  “Come on, Theodore.  I know you’re not on a date.”

In a dingy basement, muffled ringing blended with the raspy swish of a broom on muck.

Ted, looking like a surgeon in a shower cap, paper facemask, rubber gloves and floral smock, stopped sweeping and leaned the broom against a wall.  “Hold on.  I’m coming,” he muttered, snapped off a glove and fumbled with the smock to reach his pocket.  Pulled the phone, “Hel…wait a minute,” flipped his facemask to his forehead.

“Hasn’t your mother ever told you not to talk with your mouth full?”

“Brian?”

“I need you at Kinnetik in about an hour to organize a cleaning team.”

“What?  Wait,” Ted’s brows knit.  “But it’s Saturday and I’m already ON a cleaning team.  In fact, I AM the cleaning team.”

“Your place can wait.”

“It’s not my place.  It’s a friend of my Mom’s.”

“Tell her you have an emergency.  That if you don’t show up at work immediately, you’ll lose your job.  She’ll understand.  Your boss won’t.”

“Look.  You can’t just pull me out of here like it’s a Twelve-Step meeting.”

“One hour.”

“I…can’t,” Ted hung his head.  “She doesn’t have anybody else and…I have to do this for her.”

Brian brushed back his hair and gave up the bluff.  Sometimes Ted responded to the right amount of push.  But this wasn’t simple balking. “Then do what you have to do.  I’ll be at Kinnetik if you can stop by later.”

“Sure, Bri,” Ted glumly answered, added a quiet  “Bye” to a dead connection.  It was easy to say No on principle, hard to turn down a tone of need.  Shoving his phone away, he replaced his mask, grabbed the broom and swept with abandon.

Behind him, Sad Elder Lady, followed by an old Ladyfriend thumped down the stairs.  “My.  You’ll wear yourself out at that pace.”

“Don’t you worry about ME.  I’ll have this place spruced and ready before nightfall.”  Because I’m NOT that guy in last year’s paper.  You have to believe that.

At the Loft, Brian sat fingering his chin and staring at a Kinnetik Employee Roster on his screen.

“Brian, we’re leaving,” Justin interrupted.

Brian looked up and nodded to Linz’s “I’ll call you later,” Mel’s “Thanks” and Gus’s “Bye, Daddy,” wave from Linz’s arms.

“Bye, Sonny Boy.”  He watched them go, stared at Justin still leaning on the desk.  “Aren’t you driving?”

“What are you planning to do?”

“Live rich, die, come back as a dust storm to blow into the eyes of my enemies.”

“Just don’t hurt yourself again.”

“And don’t wear yourself out.  I’m looking forward to doing that tonight.”

“You’re evil.” Justin stretched across the desk, kissed Brian’s lips, felt Brian’s hand lock behind his neck and had to wrench himself away.  “They’re waiting,” he chuckled and added a sultry, “Later,” his hand brushing Brian’s cheek at departure.

And I’M evil, Brian shuffled on his chair, hand repositioning his cock as his eyes followed Justin to the last.  Back to work.  Brian punched another speed dial key.

Rural road, easy listening music, Cynthia, in a pastel gown and matching puffy hair ribbon, stopped her car at a cow-town intersection, started her right turn and grabbed her ringing phone.  “Hello.”

“Cynthia?”

Road Closed sign?  “Brian…oh fuck.”

“No, the other Irishman who pays your salary.”

“Sorry. I’m on my way to a wedding and the damn road is closed,” she stopped and sat idling, staring at the sign.

“A good reason to skip the hetero hoopla and meet me at Kinnetik for -”

“I can’t do that. I’m the Maid of Honor,” she craned around, “And I can’t believe there’s no detour sign.  Not that it matters.  Road signs are only for people who already know where everything is.  Fortunately, unlike most men, I’m not afraid to ask for directions.”

“Do you want me to pull up Street Atlas and give you an alternate?”

“No, I’ll find it,” she grumbled.  “See you Monday.  Bye.”  She tossed her phone on the passenger seat and blew a loud breath.

Brian stood up, ripped his headset off, tossed it on the desk and listened to the muffled volume of the TV.  No reason for THAT thing to stay on.  He wandered over ready to shut it off but stopped to watch a newscast of a residential city street, people piling soggy rubble on the sidewalks.  Likely most of his employees were among them. 

He shut off the set, stretched his neck, rubbed his shoulder.  Fucking ache again.  Then froze motion to replay an idea.  Maybe.  Could work.

Hurrying to the kitchen, Brian freed his left hand to manage an aspirin bottle.  Calcium tablet bottle.  A little tap water to wash them down.  Then he strode back to his desk, donned his headset, touched one more speed dial button and played his keyboard with both hands while waiting for an answer and the aspirin’s relief.

“Professor Novotny-Bruckner.  Brian.”

Brian paces while talking; Ben on his couch, tosses aside his book and listens with a growing smile.

Song: “Wacko (Piliavin & Zimbardo Remix)” by Kraymon

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