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Superstar
by Vamphile
For Paddies
Chapter Fourteen
Justin was about heading towards the cabstand when he realized he had no idea where he was going. He may be a stupid kid but even he knew you don’t ask a cabbie in New York where to go, unless you want to pay a thousand dollars to circle the city and end up nowhere in particular. He walked back into the terminal.
He purchased a couple of newspapers and grabbed a pencil from his bag. He needed a job and a place to live and was hoping he could find someone looking for a roommate. If he had to stay in a hotel for a couple of night’s he’d be okay, so long as he found a job.
After paying seven dollars for a bad cup of coffee Justin scanned the classifieds. Apartments were apparently outrageously expensive here. He wondered if New York had been such a smart option, if he had chosen someplace further south at least he’d be warm when he ended up sleeping on the street.
The Village Voice had a few more reasonable options. He circled a couple of ads with street names and hopped into a cab throwing his duffle and backpack on the seat, his messenger bag still slung over his shoulder. He read off the one of the streets and lit a cigarette. He didn’t really give a shit if the driver didn’t want him to smoke; he needed to steady his nerves.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Brian woke up to an empty bed. He called out for Justin but got no response. He sat up, listening for the shower. Nothing. His heart skipped a beat, and then relaxed, the kid had gone to the diner, or to the market. Christ, he thought to himself. I really am a god damned lesbian.
He started the coffee and noticed that Justin’s pain meds weren’t next to the glasses where he usually put them. He started looking around the loft a little harder. No sketchbooks, no strewn sneakers, no art supplies anywhere. His heart began beating faster as he walked back into the bedroom and opened the drawer he’d cleared for the blonde. Empty. He felt sick.
He continued looking around, trying to convince himself it was a cruel joke, or a stupid prank, the kid was gonna pay for scaring him like this. Then he found the picture. It was one Justin had done recently with the pastel’s he’d bought for him.
It was a picture of him sleeping peacefully. “You deserve this kind of peace, goodbye, J. Was written at the bottom in his precise script.
“MOTHERFUCKER!”
He pulled on jeans and a black t-shirt, grabbed his wallet and his keys and headed out, cell phone in hand. He was scanning his incoming calls looking for Justin’s number.
“Christ, I don’t even know the kids cell phone number.” He found it, and hit send. It went straight to voicemail.
He was still walking when he closed the phone. He wasn’t sure where he was going but he had to keep moving. When had he left? How long had he been gone? Where would he go? He opened the door to the diner and only realized that’s where he had been headed when he heard the bells on the door announce his entrance.
He scanned the booths, no blonde twink, but Michael was there.
“Brian, hey.”
“Hey Mikey, have you seen Justin?”
“Not today, did you lose him again?”
Brian ground his teeth. “He ran away.”
Michael looked confused. “I thought that’s why he was with you, because he ran away.”
“From me. He ran away from me.”
Debbie heard the last part of the conversation. “What did you do to him?”
Brian pinched the bridge of his nose, trying to hold back his anger, and his fear. “Nothing, he ran into his dad yesterday.”
“Shit, did that fucker touch him?”
“No Deb, that’s why you were watching Gus, I had to go get him.”
“So he’s still with his dad, shit Brian, we’ve got to get him out of there.”
“Michael, he’s not with his dad, I brought him back home, I mean to the loft, anyway, everything was fine. Then I woke up and he was gone, left me a note.”
“Well, he doesn’t have a car, so he couldn’t have gotten far.”
“He has a couple grand, maybe more, he could have taken a bus or a train. Shit. I have no idea where he’d go.”
“Well you have to find him, do you know what can happen to a kid on the street?”
Brian gave Debbie a look that stopped her from elaborating. “Yeah, I also know that if there’s trouble, that twink has a way of finding it. He’s…fuck, we’ve gotta find him.”
“Sit down, let me get you a cup of coffee, and I’ll ask around, maybe he didn’t go far, someone may have seen him.”
Brian gave her a half smile to show his gratitude.
“So what happened?”
“I already told you Mikey, I don’t fucking know, we were fine, he was fine. I woke up and he’s gone, his stuff is gone, and he left me a fucking picture that says I shouldn’t worry about him. Right, the kid gets in over his head every time he’s further than arms reach away from me.”
Michael smiled, “Maybe you just don’t like him to be out of arms reach.”
“I don’t want him to get hurt.”
Michael nodded, this was not the time to point out that Brian had never what happened to a trick once he’d finished with them. Apparently, he wasn’t finished with Justin.
Brian sipped at his coffee and grimaced, added more sugar and tried again but he was too wound up to just sit there. He opened his wallet to throw a couple of bucks on the table when he noticed something.
Brian was anal about a lot of things, his clothes, his hair, his money. He kept his cash in order, lowest denomination to highest, all facing the same way, all right side up. He kept his ATM card and his credit cards in a specific order as well, but one of his cards missing. Not all of them just one. It was the one he never used, saved for large emergencies, kept behind his insurance card, but his insurance card was shoved on top of his ATM card, and the card that should be behind that was missing. He smiled.
“I think I can track him.”
Michael was about to ask him what he was talking about when Brian walked out of the diner.
He practically sprinted back to the loft and pulled out the Credit card statement from last month, he dialed the customer service number quickly.
Ten minutes later he was heading towards the airport. His cell rang.
“Hi Mikey.”
“Where’d you go?”
”I’m going to New York.”
“This is a hell of a time for a vacation.”
Brian sighed, “He’s in New York, he flew. He used my Credit Card as confirmation. I’m hoping he uses it to check into a hotel.”
“What if he doesn’t?”
”I’ll find him.”
“I know you will. Call me if you need me.”
“Thanks, let your mom know.’
“Sure.”
Brian made it with seconds to spare, but managed to get his seatbelt fastened before the flight put it’s wheels up. Hopefully he wouldn’t be too far behind the kid. His eyes closed as he winced at the thoughts of what might happen to him on the streets.
~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~
Justin was frustrated. He’d called two of the places that were advertising for roommates but both were asking for security deposits and far more than he thought he could afford a month. The third call was no more promising. By the seventh call he was ready to give up completely and find a hotel or a cardboard box for the night. The eighth call restored some of his hope. The guy sounded nice, and was willing to meet with him. The rent was steep, $800 a month, and that was for sharing with three other people but it wasn’t unmanageable. He had faith he’d find a job, after all, he had Chaz’s expensive documentation, he was for all intents and purposes 21.
He gave the driver the address and looked through the help wanted section more closely.
Justin knocked on the door hesitantly. The building looked a little run down from the front but the inside was a different story. The hallways were clean, with new carpeting and recently restored wood paneling. He was on the fourth floor and his ankle was beginning to protest at the excessive use when someone finally
answered the door. The man was older, probably in his late thirties, (which to Justin seemed ancient), he had warm brown eyes and a broad smile “Are you Justin?”
”Yea, I um, I called about the roommate situation.”
“Please come in.” Justin did, his three bags making him look like a pack mule. “Well, you were pretty sure of yourself huh?”
Justin looked confused
The man gestured towards the luggage. “You seem ready to move in.”
Justin blushed. “I um, just came from the airport.”
“Oh, new in town.” The man smiled again and Justin relaxed. “Here, have a seat.”
Justin put his bags on the floor at the edge of the sofa and sat gratefully, he wanted to put his ankle up, it was throbbing but he didn’t want to appear rude.
“So um.” Justin started, unsure of what to say.
The man handed Justin a cold bottle of Pelligrino. And sat across from him with a bottle of his own. “There are three of us who live here, Manny and Julian, they’re a couple. And me, I’m Matthew, everyone calls me Matty.
Justin smiled, not sure what to say.
“Sam was living here for the past two years, but he and his boyfriend just bought a place together, which leaves the third bedroom empty, would you like to see it?”
Justin nodded and left his drink on the table as he followed Matt down a hall.
“Manny and Julian have the master Suite.” He gestured to a pair of double doors at the end of the hall. “This is my room,” he said as he tapped lightly on the door on the left. “And this”, he said, opening the door on his right with a flourish “would be your room. The bed is for sale if you don’t have one. Sam and Donald bought a new one for their new place, and we figured we’d get rid of this one or sell it to the next tenant.”
Justin looked around. The room was small, but the hardwood floors were in clean and recently restored. The walls were painted a soothing shade of sage, and the two windows, which flanked the queen sized bed, let in good light with a southern exposure. There was a door to the right, which revealed a reasonably sized closet. The bed itself had a wrought iron headboard and footboard.
Justin sat down. “I um, it’s nice, I just don’t have a job yet. I mean, I’ll get one and all but, I don’t really have the money for the bed yet.”
“Well, we’re getting ahead of ourselves anyway. We’ve taken at least a dozen applications for this place, and Manny and Julian would need to meet you as well, so lets just start with the basics shall we?”
Matthew sat on the bed next to Justin and handed him a pen and paper. Just give me your full name, social security number and a phone number where we can reach you, and I’ll call you if we want you to come back for another meeting.
Justin looked crestfallen. “You mean um.”
“Sweetie,” Mathew ran his hand through Justin's hair affectionately, you may be a cute little twink, but we’re not just going to give you the place without checking references, and making sure we all like you.” Mathew’s hand was on Justin's neck now. His fingers running through the fine silken strands.
“Of course, you could show me what you can bring to the mix, help to speed up the decision making process.”
Justin hadn’t been paying much attention. He was trying to remember the social security number that Chaz had given him. He’d tried to memorize it on the plane, knowing that NOT knowing it would be a dead giveaway to anyone that it was a fake, that he was a fake. He felt the pressure on the back of his neck as Matty’s hand pushed his head downwards.
Justin didn’t know when Matty had unzipped his pants, but he was now staring at his hard cock, his head being pushed firmly, making it absolutely clear what the decision making process involved.
He closed his eyes. He needed a place to stay. He inhaled deeply, trying to calm himself and relax his jaw when Brian’s face appeared behind his eyelids.
“I didn’t know you were planning on becoming a hustler.”
Is that what he was becoming? Just another rent boy, selling his services for whatever he needed. He didn’t want to do that. He had money, and Brian’s credit card, if he hadn’t cancelled it yet. He’d get a hotel room, find a job tomorrow. He wasn’t this desperate. “Yet.” A small voice in his head said.
He shook it off. “No” he rotated his arm, dislodging Matty’s grip on his neck. “I’m looking for a room, that’s all.”
Matty laughed, but didn’t seem angry. “Your choice.” He remained seated as Justin stormed past him, grabbed his bags and ran down the stairs. His ankle was throbbing with each heartbeat, and tears were streaming down his face, but he just needed to be moving so he kept going. He wasn’t paying attention and by the time he was, fifteen minutes later, he was hopelessly lost, in a less savory section of town. He fished a cigarette out of his pocket lit it and inhaled deeply surveying his surroundings.
It was only a little after noon but somehow this street seemed darker. Most of the buildings were run down, and large, industrial. There was a group of kids on the corner about three blocks down. Justin could hear them yelling to passersby and cars, offering their services and themselves. He turned around; he needed to get out of here.
He was walking resolutely, trying not to cry when he missed the curb. He hadn’t been looking down, he was nervous; he kept glancing around, feeling as if he were being followed. He fell hard, twisting his bad ankle painfully. He yelped as he fell, he put his hands out trying to break his fall and skinned his palms in the process.
He wanted to give up, to fly back and crawl into Brian's big soft bed. It was still early in the day, he could get back before Brian even knew he was gone…but then he remembered why he’d left.
Brian almost getting hurt by his father. Brian's grand master plan for him to return to school. His parents refusing to let him be who he was. He stood back up. He was here. he would get by. He tried to take a step but his ankle protested. He looked around, hoping to find a cab, there were none in this neighborhood. A man on the opposite corner was watching him closely with an unsettling smile. Justin ignored the pain and walked quickly.
He was finally in a less industrial area, still low rent. There was a small hotel renting rooms by the hour day or week. Justin paid for the room for a day. “We need a credit card.” He looked at the man as if he were insane. “I just paid you.”
Tyrell had worked at the hotel for months; he knew a sucker when he saw one. Most people paid straight up in cash but he’d learned that the right idiot would give him a credit card, like at all the big fancy hotels, just to cover costs if you were to run up a lot of charges. It’s not like the rooms here came with anything other than a bed dresser phone and cheap TV but hey, it was useful. The customer was long gone before they got the credit card bill with the extra charges. It was a great scam, his boss had put him on to it, and he had a feeling this kid could afford someplace better. He was hiding, and that meant he’d be willing to keep his mouth shut about the additional services charged to his room.
“We don’t charge anything to it, it’s for damages or extra expenses.” He smiled reassuringly at the blonde.
Justin nodded and gave them Brian's card, watching the man run it through an old-fashioned sliding carbon copy imprinter. He wrote a few numbers down on the slip and handed the card back. “Room 304 enjoy your stay Mr. Kinney.” Justin’s head shot up. And then he remembered, it was Brian's card. He smiled and grabbed his bags, limping up the three flights of stairs.
Once he’d divested himself of all his luggage he curled up on the hard bed, not even bothering to remove the bedspread and cried.
~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~
Brian tried to contact the credit card company again but the flight attendant informed him that she’d be required to confiscate his phone if he continued to attempt to make a call while the plane was in flight.
He ground his teeth and waited. It was a 45-minute flight to NY. Justin had been on the 4:55, which landed him at LaGuardia at 5:40 am. It was now 12:45 and the plane didn’t land for another twenty minutes. Brian tried not to consider what damage could be done to his little blonde twink in seven hours. He tried to focus on finding him, making sure he was safe, bringing him home. Then he’d fucking punish the kid for all of this. Technically he hadn’t stolen anything. He had used the credit card for confirmation and paid at the ticket counter in cash. He couldn’t report him to the police, couldn’t do anything but find him.
When the plane landed he nearly jumped out of his seat. The moment he was off the plane he turned his phone back on. There were no messages from Justin. Mikey called to wish him luck. Chaz called with tomorrow’s schedule. He ignored them and called the Customer Service line again.
Still no charges. “You’ll call me immediately if there are any? Thank you. Yes, I’m sure I don’t want to report the card stolen.”
Brian was in New York; he stopped dead in the middle of the airport. He was in New York Fucking City, looking for one little hot blonde twink. Where the fuck did he even start?
He sat down, his heart pounding with fear and aggravation. He had just imagined that Justin would be there, at the gate, waiting for him or something, but he realized how stupid that was. The kid had booked the flight online but erased the history files on the computer, if he had booked a hotel room, or made any other arrangements Brian had no way of knowing. He didn’t want to be found. “Then why’d he take the credit card with him?” a little nagging voice whispered in his head.
Yeah, he wanted to be found, when he was ready to be found…but what if… what if he didn’t get a chance to use the card, what if…
Brian started walking, he couldn’t sit in the airport all day considering the horrific things that can happen to a runaway in New York, he had more important things to do, like making sure none of them happened to this specific runaway.
~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**
Eventually Justin cried himself out. His eyes were red and puffy; his ankle hurt, his body was stiff. He sat up and walked down the hallway to the bathroom he shared with the other four rooms on the floor. An old man walked out of the room wearing an open robe, baggy boxer shorts and a stained t-shirt. Justin backed into the wall to avoid touching him. When he was finally alone in he ran the cold water and splashed it on his face. He fished into his pocket and realized his pills weren’t with him. Cursing, he let himself back into his room, where he noticed two plastic cups wrapped in Baggies on the dresser. He took one back to the bathroom, rinsed it thoroughly and then carried it back, half full.
He swallowed two of the pain pills. It was a little after two in the afternoon. He lay on his back, trying to gather his thoughts, and instead designed intricate pictures in his head around the cracks in the ceiling. Eventually the pain meds kicked in and he drifted off.
When he awoke it was a little after two in the morning. He was groggy, and knew that he couldn’t do a thing about his situation at the moment. There were 14 missed calls. One was from his mother; the other 13 were from Brian. He felt a pang, and pushed it aside. He took another pill with the lukewarm water that tasted a little like copper and pulled out his sketchbook.
He was drawing Brian and Gus together when he fell back into the hazy world of Vicodin.
~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~
Brian thought hard about where Justin might have gone. He replayed all of their conversations in his head, searching for hidden meanings, clues, mentions of any sort of connection that would tell him where to start. His aunt, or his cousin or something, he had one of those in New York. But Jennifer had only mentioned that they were in New York, she never said the city itself, and were they even named Taylor? There were so many fucking ways to be related to someone without having the same last name. “Fuck.” I can’t call his mother. I…
He called information and got the number for Justin's parents, hoping to god that Jennifer answered and not Craig. He caught a break.
“Um, it’s Brian, I’m a friend of Justin's.”
“Is something wrong? Is Justin okay?”
Like you’d care. He thought to himself. “I actually don’t know, he kind of took off, it’s a long story. But he flew to New York, and you mentioned you have family in New York…I wanted to call, make sure he got there okay.”
“Justin flew to Buffalo?”
“Buffalo?”
”Yes, we have family in Buffalo New York.”
“Um, I guess I must have misunderstood him then, He’s not in Buffalo.”
“Where is my son?”
Brian was wondering the same thing. “I don’t know.”
“What do you mean you don’t know? You took him out of his house, you were helping him, now you don’t know where he is, and all you know is he flew to New York?”
Brian was angry now; it was easier than being scared. “Yeah, I was taking care of him. I took him out of the house because he’s already got two broken ribs and a bad ankle, I wasn’t sure how much more parental care he could take.”
Jennifer was silent for several moments. “Find him.”
“I’m trying.”
“Give me your number.”
“Why?”
”Because he’s still seventeen, his bank accounts are in our names as well as his, I can check his ATM use, you can’t. Give me your number, I’ll call if I find anything.”
“Or if you hear from him.’
“Fine.”
Brian rattled off his cell number. “Goodbye.”
He hung up, with no idea where to look next. Think Kinney, if you were a kid, with no idea where to go what would you do? But Justin did have an idea where to go; he’d been researching it…or had he? Had he thought this through? Brian grabbed a couple of local papers, wondering if maybe Justin had been checking the ads, looking for a job or…”
He sat down, trying to calm himself, unsure of what to do next, panic rising.
~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~
Justin awoke again to the sun coming through nicotine stained windows. He looked at his watch; it was a little after seven am.
He stood up, and sat back down quickly. He should have put some ice on his ankle last night he thought as he gingerly removed the brace and saw that it was red and swollen. He sighed. He couldn’t get a job if he couldn’t walk. He couldn’t afford a place without a job. He tightened the brace again and took half a pill, hoping it would dull the pain without making him too groggy to function.
Grabbing his cell phone and yesterdays papers he sat back on the bed to make some more calls, maybe he’d get lucky. He was about to dial when he realized it was too early to call anyone about a rooms for rent. He checked the help wanted section again looking for something, anything that he could do without standing for too long. He heard his phone ringing. It was Brian. He wanted to answer. He didn’t.
Tyrell was just starting his day, pleased, he’d ordered a bunch of shit online last night, his girlfriend was gonna love the stuff.
Brian’s phone rang a little after three in the morning. It was the credit card company. The card had been used, at several different locations. North Dakota, Philadelphia, South Carolina. Brian was confused. “How the fuck did he get all over the country?”
“From the looks of the charges sir, these are catalog orders.”
“So where are they being shipped?”
”I don’t have that information sir.”
“Get the information, someone is using my card, I want to know where they are.”
“I can research this sir, and get back to you in 72 hours.”
“I don’t fucking have 72 Hours, Give me the numbers for the orders.”
The Customer service rep read off several 800 numbers. “I’ll try to get that information you’re looking for Mr. Kinney. Are you sure you wouldn’t rather just report the card stolen?”
”I already told you no.”
Brian hung up while the woman was in the middle of her spiel about providing service and asking if she could assist him further.
He called the first number and explained that he’d placed an order the previous night and thought he might have given the wrong address. They asked him for his card number, and his full name. Then they asked him for his order confirmation number, which he didn’t have, so they asked him for other verifying information, such as his email address, zip code, and mother’s maiden name. Someone else had set up the account, he had none of this information. He cursed at the woman on the other end of the phone and hung up.
The second call went similarly.
The third call was a little easier and he got an address in, hallelujah, New York City.
He hailed a cab and barked out the address. What was the little twat doing ordering a bunch of shit from catalogs? Had he found someplace to live and decided to furnish it with a stolen credit card? No, the kid wasn’t that dumb.
It was over an hour later when the cab stopped at the address, it was almost five am, and the place didn’t look promising. It was obviously not a residence. Oh Christ, had the kid been mugged. His heart skipped a beat.
The building was just coming to life. A few men in stained work clothes were clocking in, pouring themselves coffee, making morning small talk. Brian wanted to know which one of these fuckers had hurt Justin, stolen his credit card, left him on the street. His mind spun as his imagination created more and more horrific situations that resulted in someone here having his credit card.
“I’m looking for Brian Kinney.”
They all looked at him and shook their heads.
“He ordered something to be delivered here.”
“D’wante knew something was up. He let Tyrell get the shit delivered here because most of the people didn’t work here long, there was little risk, nothing really linking the two, they were friends, not much more, and besides, he ordered him a few things too for his trouble. This guy, asking about deliveries looked like trouble.
Brian watched their reactions carefully. A tall skinny black man in the back seemed to freeze when he mentioned deliveries.
“You! You know Mr. Kinney?”
D’wante looked down at his coffee and shook his head.
“Look, he’s not in trouble, it’s just that the package is oversized, and we needed to make alternate delivery arrangements.”
These guys were driving forklifts, what he’s just said made no sense, but he didn’t care, he just wanted to find the guy who’d placed the orders, and find Justin.
“It’s pretty valuable, I can’t just leave it here, I need to know where to take it.”
“You a cop?” D’wante looked up quickly, who the fuck had asked that.
“No, I’m not, I’m from the shipping warehouse, Mr. Kinney ordered several new computers, and I can’t leave them sitting out here. Does someone know where I can find him?”
D’wante pulled his phone out of his pocket and walked away. None of the other men responded with more than a shrug.
Brian followed D’wante with his eyes. He watched him whisper into the phone, nod and then hang up.
Brian pretended to leave. As soon as the men disbursed he cornered D’wante. “You know where Justin is.”
The black man was taller than Brian, but skinny, and Brian's rage made him seem even larger. D’wante shrunk back. “I don’t know anything.”
Brian leaned closer to him; grabbing the phone he’d seen the man drop into the pocket of his coveralls.
“Who’d you call?”
Brian opened the phone and hit the redial button. “Chester Hotel, this is Tyrell.”
“What’s your address?”
The man rattled off the address of the hotel. “And is a Justin Taylor currently a guest?”
“We don’t give out information like that.”
Brian didn’t want to ask for a Mr. Kinney yet. He didn’t want to give anyone a head start.
He hung up the phone. “Tell me what’s going on or you’re going to jail.”
The man was serious. D’wante wanted to lie, to tell him he didn’t know anything, but more than that he didn’t want to go back to jail. He’d done six months, a few years ago and had stayed clean since then. “I don’t know, I just let him deliver the shit here. Then I call him.”
“Who?”
”Tyrell, he orders the stuff, on a computer, or from a catalog. I call him when it gets here.”
“Tyrell works a the Chester Hotel?”
”Yeah.”
“If he’s not there when I get there…I’ll know you told him. And I’ll be back, with the cops.”
D’wante nodded, understanding. He wanted to warn Tyrell, but the place was only a few blocks away, he didn’t have the time to warn him and run, and even if he did, he couldn’t lose this job, he couldn’t just never show up for work again. D’wante went back to work.
Brian checked the street signs; the hotel was about four blocks away. He ran. When he walked in Tyrell greeted him with a wide smile. Brian grabbed the mans shirt and twisted it until he was cutting off his oxygen supply. “Where the fuck is Brian Kinney?”
Tyrell tried to breathe but the man wouldn’t let him. His feet were dangling off the ground, his eyes wide.
“I can’t…”
Brian punched him once in the ribs. “Where is Brian Kinney?”
”Room 304” Tyrell squeaked. Brian dropped the man. Tyrell fell to the ground gasping for air. Brian was already up the stairs, taking them two at a time.
He called Justin and heard the phone ring on the other side of the door. The kid didn’t pick up. His heart slowed a bit; at least it was really Justin, not just someone with his card. Or…suddenly he pictured Justin lying on the sidewalk, someone else checking in with HIS credit card and Justin’s cell phone. He tried the knob the door was locked. He knocked.
~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**
Justin was trying not to cry. Trying not to panic. He could stay here a few days, it was not the cleanest or nicest but it was cheap. Once his ankle was feeling better he could… He jumped when he heard a knock at his door.
“Um, who is it?”
Brian exhaled. Justin was on the other side of the door.
“It’s Brian, let me in.”
“Brian?”
”Let me in Justin.”
“Brian?”
”Open the fucking door.”
Justin was twisting his fingers around each other, literally wringing his hands trying to figure out what to do. He checked the window, wondering if he could make it down the fire escape, but the window had been painted shut about fourteen coats of paint ago.
“Go away.”
“Open the goddamned door.”
“Brian I…”
“I don’t care, open the fucking door before I break it down.”
Justin flinched as he heard the splintering of wood. The door bowed a little.
“Okay…don’t break it.”
Justin opened the door a little. Brian pushed it open all the way, denting the wall behind it. He didn’t know what to do first, grab the kids stuff and drag him out of there, hug the kid hard and make him promise never to pull a stunt like this again, check him head to toe for damage, or demand an explanation.
He went over his options several times.
Justin stood silently watching Brian fume. He was scared.
“How did you find me?”
“You used my credit card.”
Justin shook his head. Only for the plane. Not for anything else. And I didn’t even charge the ticket. I just used it for…”
“I know, you’re a very honest thief.”
“I’m not a thief. And it still doesn’t explain how you know I’m here.”
“I know everything. And tomorrow, when we get back to Pittsburgh I’m having a lojack installed in your ear.”
“I’m not going back.”
“Yes you are.”
“Brian, there’s nothing to go back to. My parent’s don’t want me. You don’t…want me.”
“I never said that.”
“You want me?”
“I want you safe, you’re not safe here.” Brian shook his head. Why couldn’t he just tell the kid the truth? He DID want him. He wanted him more than he’d wanted anyone in a long time, maybe ever. Right, that’s why he didn’t tell the kid the truth. He was afraid of the truth.
“Brian, I can’t go home. I don’t even have a home.” Justin took a couple steps towards the window.
“You can stay with me…Hey, you’re limping.”
Justin shrugged. I walked a lot yesterday.”
“Sit down, let me see it.”
“Brian, I can take care of myself.”
Justin got angrier when Brian snorted in response to that.
“I can.”
“You’ve done a bang up job so far. I’ve known you for two weeks; I’ve rescued you like 14 times. That’s once a day.”
“You have not rescued me once a day.”
“Even if it’s once every other day, I can’t afford to keep flying from Pittsburgh to New York to do it. So, you’ve got to come back, or I can’t rescue you in a timely manner.”
Justin rolled his eyes.
“Sit the fuck down I want to see your ankle.”
He sat and swung his leg up on the bed, wincing as he hit it against the metal frame.
Brian shook his head. “Yeah, you’re fine all by yourself.”
He pulled the Velcro straps from the ankle braced and hissed at what he saw. Justin bit his lip trying not to cry as he pulled the brace off entirely.
His ankle was an angry red and purple, it was swollen more than it had been this morning, probably because he’d been standing on it.
“Jesus Christ Justin, what happened.”
“I told you I tripped.”
“We’ve got to…”
Brian was interrupted by the ringing of his cell phone. “Did you find him?”
“Yeah, he’s safe, he’s fine, he’s coming back to my place.”
“I want him home.”
Brian hung up the phone ignoring her request.
“I’m not going back to your place.”
“We can get you your own place, find you a roommate, what ever you want, but you can’t just take off and stay in some crappy hotel. You don’t have a job, or a place to stay, you don’t have…”
“I don’t have any of that in Pittsburgh either.”
“You have me.” Brian said it quietly. He just wanted the kid back in his bed. An on the couch, and against the breakfast bar, and on the floor, and in the shower and…”
“Brian I can’t just move back and be your little twink. How is that better than any of the other options, just living off a rich sugar daddy.”
“I wasn’t offering that, I’d make a lousy sugar daddy, I’m too selfish. And you are not a stupid little twink. I thought we talked about this. You could go back to school, it’s still not too late.”
“I can’t”
“Why not?”
”I um, don’t know how to read.” Justin dropped his head ashamed.
Brian laughed out loud. “Justin, you do remember that we met on the set of a porn film where we were forced to make you use cue cards right?”
Justin bit at his bottom lip…”I was um…”
“You’re gonna be a brilliant actor someday, but a lousy liar. Can’t fucking read.” Brian shook his head laughing.
“Brian I don’t want to go back.”
“You’ve made that clear but I want you to come back.”
“So you can keep rescuing me?”
”Something like that.”
“But…”
“Lets make a deal.”
“What?”
“You come back, graduate in four months, and then you can do whatever you want.”
“Whatever I want?”
“Within reason.”
“Who decides reason.”
“I do.”
“Why?”
”Because you don’t have any common sense at all, and you just told me the stupidest lie ever.”
“And that means you get to veto or approve all my future life decisions?”
”Yes.”
“Okay, lets do it this way. I’ll come back, and finish school, but NOT at St. James. And then I get to do whatever I want, reason be damned.”
“Compromise. You go back, finish school, doesn’t have to be St. James. And then you can do something we agree upon together.”
“Fine.”
“Good.”
“Are we leaving now?”
“Here, yes, New York, no.”
“Why?”
”Because we’ve got a few things to do in the city before we head back to The Pitts.”
Brian grabbed Justin's bags and slung his arm around the blondes waist allowing him use his strength. He was limping badly.
Justin was relieved. Yeah school would suck, but in four months, he’d be able to convince Brian of anything, he was sure of it.
Brian was relieved. The kid was going to school, and he had four months to get him to agree to go to college. He’d be able to convince him, he was sure of it.
They walked a few blocks and hailed the first cab they saw. Brian gave the cab driver the address. “What’s there?”
“New York City.”
Justin leaned against Brian in the cab. His life could wait for four months.
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