Well, please don't ask me what'sa on my mind
I'm a little mixed up, but I'm feelin' fine
When I'm near that girl that I love best
My heart beats so it scares me to death

10:42 a.m. Saturday morning

Daphne has arrived, in more ways than one, and right on schedule. I’m waiting for her outside my building.

“You look hot, Brian. Those are my favorite jeans on you.” Daphne—sweet and enchanting as usual. She leans in to me, on her toes, and kisses me on the cheek.

“Thanks.” Why did she have to compliment me first? Now, I’m totally off my game. Shake it off, Kinney. “Slight change of plans.” I put my arm around her and lead her towards my car.

“Why? I thought I was supposed to come over here at 10:45 sharp and surprise Justin and take him to lunch—or brunch, I guess.”

“You are, but he’s not ready. Get in.” I open her door for her. “I’m going out for cigarettes. We’re all out.”

“So he’s still in the dark?”

“Yeah.” She opens her purse and pulls out her cigarettes, offering me one. I accept. I light hers and mine while we stop at a traffic light. “So, did you fuck that guy two nights in a row?” I smirk at her.

“What guy?”

“That guy you were talking to Justin about on the phone the other night. The one he was telling you not to fuck-“

“Oh, him, Andy, god, no. He’s history.” I knew there was a reason I liked this girl so much. Justin has the best hag.


“Why’d you dump him so fast?”

“He had a lot to learn. Let’s just leave it at that.” She cracks her window, blowing her smoke out.

“Like what?”

“Like none of your business.”

“Oh, come on. “You can’t just tell me ‘he had a lot to learn’ and leave it at that.”

“You are worse than Justin.” She rolls her eyes. I’m probably better than Justin at some things too. I’ve always been so curious about that, about how Justin was with Daphne. I don’t know why I’m wondering about that this morning. “All I’m going to tell you is that he should’ve keep his mouth shut. They way he carried on, you’d think he knew a lot more about…well, you know what I mean.”

“About pussy.”

“Right. I can’t stand guys like that. Seriously, he should’ve kept his mouth shut—for both reasons--because, quite frankly, you probably know more about it than he does.”

“I’ll have you know that Justin and I picked up some pussy last night.” I’m going to get so much mileage out of this kitten.

“Did you eat it?”

“Um, no.”

“Well, then, the three of you have something in common.” Justin’s taste in women impresses me more and more every day. She kills her cigarette as we pull into the store parking lot. I need to stop hitting on this girl for sport; she’s totally out of my league.

“I’ll be right back.”

Daphne is on the phone with one of her girlfriends when I get back to the car.

“What am I doing right now? Riding around town trying to score cigarettes with the hottest uber-gay guy you’ll ever meet. No, you don’t know him. No, not Justin—Justin’s evil-half. I’ll call you later. That guy you set me up with tonight better not be a troll. Later. And if he’s even remotely a troll, he better pay for dinner.” For some reason, I want to give her fifty bucks, just so she’ll call and tell me all about it. “Okay, so tell me what’s the big secret? What do you have up your sleeve?” She turns in her seat to face me, all excited.

“This.” I open the glove compartment and hand her the brochure with everything in it, the reservation, the details for today and tonight. She looks a little stunned.

“Wow. This is really nice. I can’t believe you’re doing this for him.” She looks at me. I look at her. She knows I can’t get emotional right now. She doesn’t want to either. “You know that there’s a huge bible convention or something going on there this weekend, right?”

I didn’t know that. “No.”

“Yeah, one of my girlfriend’s fathers owns a Christian bookstore. This place is going to be packed.”

“So?” Bible-beaters aren’t my style, but I’ve been known to unbuckle a bible-belt or two.

“So, it’s going to be almost impossible for you to drop him off in the front, with all of the buses and everything.”

“I wasn’t planning on dropping him off in the front.” Why would I?

“Well he isn’t going to be able to go with you into the parking deck.” She looks at me like I’m crazy and then it sinks in. “He hasn’t told you, has he?”

“Told me what?”

“Oh shit.” She sighs and lays her head against the back of her seat. “That he won’t, can’t, go near a parking garage. I shouldn’t have told you this. You didn’t know, did you?”

My hand is on her wrist. I want her to look at me. “Whatever you’re talking about, he hasn’t told me.”

“Probably because he’s embarrassed about it, and afraid—that it will happen again.”

“That what will happen again?” I pull the brochure out of her hand and throw it on the dashboard.

“He has pretty severe panic attacks Brian.” She looks at me for my reaction. “He’s very ashamed of them.”

“Since when? He was walking around with a fucking gun Daphne.”

“I know.”

“I mean, he has nightmares, and I think he still has flashbacks sometimes, but when did this start?”

“I don’t know how many he’s had, but the first one I know of was the first time he went to a follow-up appointment at the hospital by himself, you know, without his mom. And you know the way that hospital is set up. You have to walk through the parking garage and over that covered walkway to go in, no matter what.”

“I know how that hospital is set up. It’s fucking stupid.” I know that place like the back of my hand

“Well, he took the bus there that day.”

“And what happened?”

“All I know is what he told me. He freaked out in the parking garage after he got off the bus. He couldn’t even get to the walkway. He couldn’t breathe, couldn’t move; felt like he was going to die. He said all of the smells and noises echoing made him feel like everything was crashing down on him—something about being in that claustrophobic space, you know. He felt like he couldn’t get out, like he was lost in a maze. It was so bad that another person who was trying to find a parking spot saw him, thought he was having a heart attack or something, found an attendant, and they called the paramedics. He won’t go near one now. It makes him feel out of control, or something, I guess.”

Fuck. “He told you about this, but he didn’t tell me. Why? Why didn’t he tell me or ask me to go with him?”

“You guys weren’t together then. He was with Ethan.” Her voice fades away as she tells me this, and we are both quiet for a few seconds.

I am fucking going to kill him. “So he didn’t tell me, or his Mom?”

“Apparently not.” She looks agitated, like she’s done something wrong, but it’s not her fault. Justin is the most stubborn person I know, except for me. “He’s embarrassed, I guess. And don’t take this the wrong way, Brian, but he knows that you see things in a very black and white way sometimes, and he just can’t. It’s not something that he can just snap his fingers and fix, so he hides it. And since he refuses to go back to the hospital, he hasn’t gotten any treatment for them either.”

“It just doesn’t make any sense. I know he’s been in a parking garage since the bashing. You guys go to the mall.”

“I drop him off out front and meet him inside. His mother does too; she doesn’t ask questions. He’s very, very creative about figuring out ways to avoid them. And honestly, Brian, now that I think about it, I think he just doesn’t bring it up with you because he knows that the whole subject is painful for you too. He doesn’t want to make you remember it any more than he does. He doesn’t want to hurt you, so he just keeps it bottled up, until-.”

“Until something sets him off.” Like Thursday night. “And then the damn breaks.” This is why he’s so nervous about going to L.A. by himself. I wish I could stop all of the thoughts that are flooding into my head right now. “Why didn’t you tell me? You told me about that posse crap.”

“I wasn’t sure that he hadn’t told you for one, and, two, he hasn’t said a word about them in months. I think he basically ignores the problem until he can’t. I know that he was with some friends at PIFA one day who wanted to go have lunch, and they all started walking out to their cars, and he begged off. He can’t deal. I just didn’t know that you didn’t know. I mean, I figured with all this, this new job and all, that he would have told you by now.”

“I don’t know whether to go ring his neck or yell at him or…” or just go back to the loft, cancel everything, and just do whatever it takes to convince him that he’s okay, that everything is going to be fine. We can spend the rest of the weekend walking up and down every parking garage in the fucking city if we have to. We're back at my building. I stop the car. She’s watching me.

“Brian, I can’t tell what you’re thinking. I can’t tell if you’re really pissed or really worried.”

“A little pissed and a lot worried, but I’m glad you told me because I would’ve had a fucking disaster on my hands.”

“Well, you can’t be that pissed, Brian. You wouldn’t even tell him you were having a testicle removed. You two deserve each other, if you ask me.” I want to give her a dirty look, but I can’t. She’s right. Sometimes Justin and I are more alike than I ever realize. “You aren’t going to cancel your plans are you?”

“No. I was planning on telling him where we were going, but I’m not going to now. I’ll just pick him up from the diner, and he’ll just have to be none the wiser for a little while longer.” I was getting excited about telling him too. “I don’t want him to know that I know all this. Not now.” I’ve learned more about Justin in the last forty-eight hours than I have in four years. Not to mention that I’ve got the wrong list my wallet. I don’t need a list of neurologists; I need a list of psychiatrists. That ought to be a fun conversation.

“Yeah, that might put a damper on things.”

“I guess I’ll just call the hotel before I get to the diner and tell them I need curbside valet service. I wasn’t planning on spoiling him that rotten.”

“Aw, he’s worth it.” She’s smiling again. She’s right. He is.

“We better go back in. He’s going to call me any minute. It doesn’t take him long to look pretty.”

“I know. I hate blonds. He looks prettier than me half the time.” She makes me laugh. “I won’t miss walking down the street and having everyone gawk at him instead of me.” Her face gets a little more serious as she looks out the window.

I will.

 

* * * * * * * * * *

* * * * * * * * * *

It doesn’t take me long to pack what we need and check in with Laverne and Shirley and make sure they’re on schedule. I call Ted’s phone, but Emmett answers. I guess he knows it’s me.

“Everything’s fine.”

“Let me speak to Theodore.”

“Hold, please.”

“Teddy, Brian would like a word with you.” I hear a lot of rustling.

“Ted Schmidt.”

“No shit. How’s it going?”

“As well as can be expected. Emmett’s a little, well, opinionated, but he’s getting over it.”

“Keep it simple. Tell him to let Paul do his job.”

“That’s what I’m doing. We’ll see you at the Fairmont.”

“Don’t forget to come by here and pick up my suit. It’s in a bag in the closet.”

“We won’t. Don’t worry. We’ll see you soon.”

****************
Justin is surprised when I walk into the diner, grab my lunch, and say, “Come on.” He tells Daphne he’ll see her tomorrow and follows me out to the car with a quizzical look on his face. It doesn’t take him long to realize that we’re not driving towards the loft.

“Where are we going? You promised me that we could stay in the loft all afternoon and fuck.”I scarf my sandwich and enjoy his mild aggravation at me. “Did you have a good time with Daphne?”

“Don’t change the subject. Answer me. Where are we going?”

“Do you want to spend a lot of time fucking this weekend?”

“Uh, yeah.”

“Then fucking quit asking me that. If you ask me again, I’m going to blindfold you and put you in the trunk.” He cuts his eyes at me, which he knows I see, and then revs up one of those trademark little grins that make his eyes twinkle and make me sorry I wore these jeans instead of the looser ones. I want to stop the car and fuck him right now.

We turn onto the street that the Fairmont Hotel is on, and Daphne wasn’t kidding. The traffic is bumper to bumper with bible-beaters and their buses. We aren’t going anywhere fast, but Justin keeps himself busy, as usual.

“Oh my god. Look at all these cars. What the fuck is going on at the Fairmont?”

“I have no idea.” I watch him turn around in his seat. Nice view.

“Every church bus from the state of Pennsylvania is in their parking lot Brian.”

“Maybe Jesus is here doing a book signing. I hear his original signature goes for a lot on e-bay.” I see the valet a few hundred feet ahead of us. He sees my car. He’s patiently waiting while we inch forward in this traffic, enjoying the smoke break. I’ve had enough business meetings and conferences at the Fairmont to know the staff fairly well. They’re top notch; they take care of their customers. Justin is still turned around in his seat counting buses.

“There are at least nineteen different churches here, and I’m sure I missed some. Holy Jesus.”

“He’s the reason they’re here.” And we’re about to be.

“Thank god I don’t have to be anywhere near this place. Bunch of hypocritical lunatics. I’ll bet Reverend Tom and your mom will be here.”

I really needed to hear that. “Don’t thank him too soon.” I pull over to the side of the road where John is standing, no cigarette now, looking like a crisp, clean Fairmont Hotel professional. Daphne was right. There’s no way in hell I would’ve ever gotten into the entrance. I put my hazard lights on and get out. “Justin, this is our stop. Get out of the car.”

I dart around to the trunk to get our stuff and then around to get Justin out. He still looks dazed and confused. “Justin, come on. We’ve got to get out of the way.” I hand John my spare key. “You can leave it at the desk. I’ll get it later.”

“I’ll leave the garage location with it, Mr. Kinney. Enjoy your stay.” And he’s gone. I put my arm around Justin’s shoulder and lead him into the lobby, his head turning all over the place, taking in the bible-beaters, the convention hoop-la, and then the lobby of the Fairmont. I don’t think he’s ever been here before. It’s a little bit breathtaking your first time. I feel like I’ve got Gus at Disneyworld.

“Holy shit! This place is incredible. What are we doing here?”

The lobby is packed, and it’s almost impossible to stop walking, so we don’t. “We’re celebrating.” I bend my head down to his, his tucked underneath my arm. He looks up at me like he doesn’t understand, but I don’t have time to explain it to him right now because I’m too busy steering him through this crowd of cross-wearing, bad-dressing propaganda pushers.

We’re at the counter when I feel him leaning against me as I check in, the newness of this place wearing off a little, I guess. “Here, take this.” I hand him the room keys and some paperwork. I’m carrying everything else.

“If you need anything Mr. Kinney, just let us know. Your suite is ready.” I give Justin one of my, “So, whadda’ya think” smiles,” and he wraps his arms around my neck and kisses me like he hasn’t seen me in a year. I don’t think the Christian cronies appreciated that very much. The clerk behind the desk found it rather amusing.

“Brian, which elevator do we take?” He’s walking ahead of me. There are four to choose from, and I have no idea off the top of my head. He figures it out. “You have to take this one to the fourteenth and then you have to get off and take this one to the twenty-eighth. We’re almost on the top floor!”

“Yeah, well the top floor is the honeymoon suite. I’m not staying in a honeymoon suite. Too much pink.” He laughs.

“Come on.” The first elevator is packed. Justin tells me that he figures many more people stay on the first fourteen floors because they are cheaper, so this elevator will always be more crowded, statistically. Sometimes I think he thinks I’m an idiot and can’t figure these things out on my own. “Oh my god, this isn’t the place that you almost fucked that client is it?”

“Not above the fourteenth floor.” I wink at him. He rolls his eyes and looks a little amazed and proud. The things that make him happy sometimes….

The second elevator clears out by floor nineteen. It’s just me and him. “It’s nice that there isn’t a doorman in this elevator.”

“I requested that. Cost me a little extra.” He presses his body against mine as I lean against the back of the elevator. We’ve just passed floor twenty-one.

“I don’t know why you did this for me, but I don’t really care right now. I’m just very, extremely, fucking horny.” I close my eyes for a second and inhale the scent of the shampoo I used on him this morning. Floor twenty-three.

“Um, so am I, and if you don’t get your sweet little lips off of my neck and your hot little hand off my dick, you’re going to have to clean this elevator because I’m going to come all over it.” Twenty-four.

“I don’t care.” That’s because you won’t be the one paying to get jizz out of the brand new carpet. His palm makes repeated runs over my denim dick. I lick my lips.

“I’m not kidding. You know I go bananas when you do that.” Twenty-five.

“Tell me what you’re going to do me. I want to know.” Keep one hand on the luggage and the other above his waist.

“What would Jesus do?” Twenty-six. Dear Lord, deliver us from evil, thy rod and thy staff, they comfort me. God was comforted by a rod? The man is no help.

“What would Justin do?”

“What wouldn’t Justin do?” Twenty-seven.

“Nothing. There’s nothing I wouldn’t do.” He unzips my jeans, slipping his hand inside. Sweet Jesus.

“I can think of one thing you won’t do.” I look down at him as he starts lowering himself to his knees.

“What?” He looks up at me.

“Get the fuck off the elevator. We’re here.”

Twenty-eight.

Salvation.

* * * * * * * * * *

Everything at Once- Deleted Scene 11.3—Tease—Brian’S POV—NC-17

BRIAN’S POV

“I don’t know why you’re even bothering to pull your pants up. You’re just going to walk three feet across the hall and take them off again.” He better not throw that shoe at me. I paid damn good money for those shoes. “If you throw that shoe at me, I’ll lock you out.”

"Ow!" That little fucker has good aim. That fucking hurt.

I don’t have the heart to lock him out.

He just walked across the hall with no pants on. The kid has balls. I can’t stop laughing. Plus, I can’t tell if he’s going to kiss me or hit me. He’s funny like that sometimes. I wait until he’s standing right in front of me in the middle of the outer room before I hang his necktie back around his neck.

“Truce?”

“I fucking hate you.” Ooooh, that is one mad little face.

“You do not. You love me.”

“You’re incorrigible.”

“No big words. We talked about that.”

“Okay. Let me dumb-it-down for you. You—are—an—ass—hole.” He hands me his pants. “And now you don’t get to charm me out of my pants because I’m already out of them!”

He’s not that mad. He’s just hamming it up. I have to think about a way to make him happy really fast. “There are candy bars in the mini-bar.”

“Really? Will they cost you like twenty-five dollars a piece?”

“At least.” I’m sitting on the back of one of the sofas in here. He’s thinking about that.

“Okay, truce.” I knew that would work. He’s standing in front of the mini-bar, naked from the waist down, bent over, trying to figure out which candy bar he’s going to eat first. I've never been so fucking turned on in my entire life. He turns around with one in each hand. “They’re practically frozen.” I’m just staring at him. “Why are you looking at me like that?”

“Because you look hot as hell trying to pick out a fucking candy bar. How come I’ve never seen you do that before? Bend over and get something out of the refrigerator?”

“Because there’s never any food in the loft. Duh.”

“Oh yeah.” Must buy groceries. Lots of candy bars. “I’m waiting for my brain to reboot.” He walks over and starts kissing me.

“Let me do that for you. If we wait for you, it’ll take all night.” He’s such a little smart ass.

The candy bars go somewhere--fuck, I don’t know where--I’m sure he does—as he leans against me, settling between my legs, comfortable because he belongs there. I feel this warm sense of relief wash over me as I hold him like this, my eyes closed at first as I pray in some forgotten church somewhere for time to stop—just for a little bit. Nobody hears me--but him. And I don’t have to say anything.

He knows.

His lips remember every part of my face, his hands in my hair---

“Your hands are freezing.”

“That’s your fucking fault, Brian.”

--my head against him. I hear him loving me, smell his mouth on mine, that irresistible, pushy sweetness that he tastes like. That thing he does--

Making love to me when I still have all my clothes on.

His new shirt feels a little long on him. I pull him away from me.

“I want to look at you.”

This loose necktie hanging around his neck, inside his collar. This crisp white shirt, three or four buttons open, the only other thing he has on. He lost the jacket somewhere in here. I run my fingers down the tie. He looks down and smiles.

“This is actually one of yours.” I laugh.

He reaches down and pulls the tie out of my fingers, making me look at him. I hold him again, my hands around his waist, lower than the hem of his shirt.

Warm and sweet and soft against me. Wet.

He tells me what he wants.

“Please take me to bed.”

“After you.”

Go on to Chapter 11