Ten Tremont - Chapter 13
In which Marc witnesses a crime....
“Gee, I hope the robbers didn’t get the baby,” Jeff said.
Adrian winced, and Jeff looked maliciously happy.
I knew…I was certain…that I’d made a major mistake. I’d betrayed Adrian, and I had no idea how to defuse the situation I’d created. I mean, I went into anesthesiology partly because I prefer dealing with people who are unconscious. How lame is that?
“You both look like you could use a drink,” I said brightly. “Something alcoholic…or would you rather have a hot drink? I can put on some coffee…no trouble.” I took Jeff by the upper arm and started guiding him toward the kitchen.
After an initial hesitation and a look at Adrian, Jeff came along with me. “So tell me all about it,” he said.
Adrian hadn’t moved; he was standing with his back to us. I let go of Jeff’s arm and turned back toward my unhappy partner. If I’d had any doubts about whether I’d hurt Adrian, the set of his shoulders was enough to confirm it for me. I thought, What the fuck do I do now? I better separate him and Jeff and give Adrian a chance to pull himself together. If Jeff realizes how effective that crack was…. I gave my head a shake, trying to shake some inspiration loose. I wish I could ask Adrian if he has to go to the bathroom.That would be the perfect hiding place. I sent him frantic brain waves, but Adrian was apparently not receiving at present. Fuck.
“Adrian, would you do me a favor….” My voice trailed off. I didn’t have any favor in mind. What the hell would get him out of the room? “My mom called…” that much was true, “and said she’d like to speak to you.”
Mom always says, “Is Adrian around? I’d like to say Hi,” whenever she calls. I don’t remember her saying it this time, but what the hell?
Adrian turned, his face blank. I wasn’t sure he was computing. I went on, “She asked you to give her a call as soon as you got in. Something about a birthday gift? She said you’d know what she was talking about.” That was all pure invention.
“Okay.” Adrian reached for the phone on the desk.
Nix on that. “She said she needed to talk to you privately. You’d better use the phone in the bedroom.”
“Thanks.” Adrian’s eyes narrowed, and I thought I could see wheels grinding into motion. Thank God.
“What can I get you?” I asked Jeff.
Adrian was in the bedroom for half an hour, ostensibly talking to my mother. When he came out, he said, “Sorry, guys, but I have to run out and get something. I’ll be right back.”
In the meantime, I blew off Jeff’s questions with a minimum of information, told him the baby lived with its mothers and with Brian (I added hastily, after I saw Jeff begin to gloat again); some kind of joint custody, I said. When he wanted to talk about the police and Justin’s eviction, I turned the tables and asked if anything like that had ever happened to him. Turned out it had, only it was his ex calling the cops on him. Somehow I wasn’t surprised.
I got a long story about a night in a bar and his ex’s narrow-minded attitude toward ‘drunk as a skunk’ husbands who just want to have a little fun. Jeff just waved when Adrian came out of the bedroom and left on his errand. By the time Adrian got back, Jeff was dressed and ready to leave for the wedding, and I was thoroughly sick of listening to him cackling about his exploits.
I shut the door on Jeff and turned to where Adrian was spritzing the cabinet doors in the kitchen. This was not a good sign. Both Adrian and I are fairly tidy types who prefer a clean home, but we aren’t fanatical about it. When Adrian is upset, fanatical doesn’t begin to describe how he attacks dirt or the idea of dirt. Any minute now he’d be getting out the ammonia and staging an all-out assault on the oven.
I went over to him, put my arm around his shoulders, and tried to pull him in tight to my body. “Hey,” I said. “Relax. It’s O.K.”
“No, it’s not. I let him get to me, again.”
“I’m sorry. It’s my fault. I wasn’t thinking.”
“It’s not your fault. You weren’t out of line, I was. I let Jeff jerk my chain when I should have laughed it off. That’s what you and I are all about, Marc. We’re about living together as a couple, without trying to hide our relationship and without making excuses. What the fuck is wrong with me, that I can’t do that?”
“He’s your brother. There’s a lot of history there. Don’t kick yourself because he can turn you back into a sensitive 16-year-old kid. No one else does.”
Adrian looked at me silently for a moment, his brown eyes even larger than usual, then he said, “You haven’t gotten to know my other brothers yet.” He bent over and rummaged under the sink. “Every damn one of them can turn me into ‘a sensitive 16-year-old’ in seconds. Ahhh. Here’s the ammonia. I thought we had some.”
I shrugged and retreated to my desk where I could feel guilty without interfering with Adrian’s attempts to work off his misery. I was dying to tell him about the afternoon’s events, but even I, not the most intuitive guy in the world, had figured out that he wouldn’t be interested in a blow-by-blow account. Too bad. Brian and Co. had put on a mesmerizing show.
After Missy got done her tour of the loft, I started straightening up the condo. Nothing major - what my mother called “a lick and a promise.” When I was almost done, I took a look across the alley and noticed that the door to the loft was open. That made me look again. No matter how stoned or how drunk Brian is, he always slides that door shut. I got out the glasses and looked around carefully. Uh oh!…the T.V. was missing. Brian had been robbed!
My hand hovered over the phone…should I call the cops?...tell the police I know there’s been a burglary because I’m a peeping Tom?…or should I just not get involved? The deed was done…or was it? Perhaps the thieves would be back for more. I’m civic-minded, up to a point. Having the cops laughing their asses off because a peeping Tom just reported a crime is way past that point. In addition, they would have my cell phone number. I had no idea if they had a way of instantly tracking it to my address, but while investigating the crime, the police surely would have a way to find me. I was conflicted. In this age of cell phones, where the fuck did I last see a pay phone?
I thought for a minute while looking at Brian’s empty apartment and it dawned on me. The laundromat two blocks away. We needed milk and I could stop at 7-11 on my way home. So I did it; discretely called the cops to report the crime amidst the chaos of washers, dryers and a wide array of children running and screaming in the background. I gave the minimal amount of information to be helpful and quickly hung up. I was certain no one even noticed me.
Upon my return home, I witnessed Brian barely beating the police to the loft. He walked in, a trick in tow (surprise, surprise!) and started yelling. He didn’t register surprise when the two cops turned up, even though he hadn’t called them. Too angry and upset, I guess. Understandably so.
While the officers got out their notebooks and interviewed Brian, I kept thinking about Blondie. Two people living in the loft, one of whom always locks the door. Must be the other person who left it unlocked. Hmmm. How was Brian going to react? He outweighs the kid by at least a third, all of it muscle. If he hit Justin, what was I going to do? Call the cops again? I knew I wouldn’t let Brian do serious damage to the boy without intervening, no matter how I got my information.
I needn’t have worried. Justin barely had time to look around and let the scope of the theft register when Big Q Guy got there. Sometimes having a third party present at a confrontation isn’t a good idea, but this guy seemed to be calming Brian down, not stirring him up. Brian was angry and there was some yelling and a lot of hand-waving and fierce gestures, but he never touched the kid, not once. The kid was in a total state of shock but he was unharmed. Thank God.
Big Q Guy stayed while the kid threw some stuff in a duffel and left. They were just breaking out the pot when Jeff and Adrian walked in, and I said, “Brian and Big Q guy are over there getting stoned.” Good move, Marcus.
As soon as Jeff left for the wedding, Adrian turned on the TV. I knew it was just white noise to block out the world while he thought whatever he was thinking. He had a high school football game on. I’ll bet Adrian never watched high school football when he lived in Michigan. He certainly never watches it here.
Adrian was hunkered down at one end of the living room couch, and I sat at the other. I wanted desperately to comfort him, but how? His whole body posture screamed, Leave me alone!
That was the start of a very quiet evening. Anything I suggested, Adrian went along with, but with a total lack of enthusiasm or interest. It was almost a relief when he went to bed around midnight. I decided to stay up and wait for Jeff to come home. The last thing in the world Adrian needed to deal with now was a drunken Jeff.
Late night T.V. sucks. I kept taking quick looks at the loft, but it stayed dark. Brian hadn’t come home, with or without Justin. Funny how it felt like Adrian’s withdrawal was all tangled up with Brian’s burglary and Justin’s absence, as if Adrian would be back to his usual quirky, out-going self if Brian and Justin made up. Logically, that made no sense at all, but that’s how it felt.
Jeff rolled in at 3:00 a.m. this time, and once again, finding and using the key was beyond him. I got him into bed with no problems, and then I happily shed my sweats and crawled in next to Adrian. I turned my back to him and wriggled into his heat. In his sleep, he was willing to cuddle: his arm came around me and he pulled me close. I slept.
The last event of the wedding weekend was a brunch for the out-of-town guests. The invitation was for 10:30, and Jeff had a 3:00 p.m. flight, so he was going from the brunch to the airport. At 9:30 he was still snoring on the couch. Adrian was drinking coffee, standing in the kitchen, leaning on the counter. I said, “I guess I’d better get him up.”
Adrian set his mug down on the counter and gave me a weak smile. “I’ll do it.”
“Are you sure? I don’t mind.”
“No, it’s okay.” And he went in the living room. I listened from the kitchen as Adrian repeated Jeff’s name louder and louder until finally Jeff responded. Adrian said something in a quieter tone that I couldn’t hear, and Jeff answered just as quietly. I didn’t want to eavesdrop…or to be caught eavesdropping…so I went to check on the loft. No sign of life there. We weren’t out of the woods yet.
When I went back into the kitchen, Adrian was getting Jeff a cup of coffee. He looked over at me. “I’m ready to go out for a run,” he said.
“I’ll see Jeff on his way.”
“Thanks.” He gave me a kiss on the cheek and went out the door.
I saw a badly hung-over Jeff into a cab and on his way before Adrian was back from his run. As soon as I got back upstairs, I checked the loft again. Brian was sitting at the breakfast bar in the kitchen, wearing a sleek navy robe. I couldn't see his blond boy anywhere, but his female blonde was fussing around, slicing bagels and making coffee, while two fat little feet bobbed up and down in the baby carrier. Fuck. Crappy timing. If Adrian were here, this might be just what the doctor (me!) ordered. This he'd surely be interested in.
There wasn't much to see. The blonde popped a couple of bagels in the toaster, got out plates and mugs, then rummaged around in the refrigerator. This wasn't a scene that needed my undivided attention, so when I finished my coffee, I started for the kitchen to get a refill. I had just started to pour when I heard the key in the lock.
“Adrian,” I said, “Mom and the baby are visiting. Come on in here.”
“Not now. I stink. I'm going to take a shower."
Fuck. Fuck and damn that bastard Jeff to hell. I went back to the desk and stood sipping my coffee, but I wasn't paying much attention to the scene anymore. I was listening to the sounds coming from the bathroom. A flush, the electric toothbrush's growl, then the shower went on. All as it should be. Across the alley, Mom grabbed the baby in its carrier and left.
Brian didn’t look much happier than Adrian. He moped around for half an hour or so, threw on some clothes, and left.
No sign of Justin.
Adrian and I loafed around the apartment the rest of the day. This time I actually got some of the work done that I had planned on doing yesterday, then we met a couple of my colleagues for dinner. An hour of T.V. afterwards, and I was ready for bed. Even though I hadn’t gotten to bed until after 3:00 a.m., my internal alarm clock had only let me sleep until a little after 7:00. While that was an hour and a half later than usual, it wasn’t enough to keep me from falling asleep during X-Files. So at 10:00 p.m. I went to bed…alone. Adrian was still being unusually quiet and a little distant.
The loft was dark when I got home Monday. Brian finally came came home after 8:00, still dressed in a suit and carrying take out as well as his briefcase. He looked tired. He changed into his at-home uniform - ‘beater and jeans - God, the man is hot - and settled down with a magazine at the dining room table. There was no sign of Justin, I noticed apprehensively. I couldn’t shake the feeling that Brian and Justin’s rift was bad news for Adrian and me. Crazy, I know
I’m getting as obsessed as Adrian. Before I left at 6:00 a.m., I checked the loft. Brian was just getting up…alone…as I had guessed. Too bad.
Today I put in a long day, and when I got home a little before 7:00, Brian was already home…alone. Across the alley, at 10 Tremont, Adrian was still subdued and still uninterested in les affaires du loft. I was getting concerned. Or, rather, even more concerned. This was dragging out way too long. I was getting a better understanding of the issues that got Adrian started drugging and eventually landed him in rehab, and I didn’t like what I was learning.
I came home Wednesday determined to talk this out with Adrian. Enough was enough. I gritted my teeth, took a deep breath and opened the door to the condo. A delicious smell greeted me. Something tangy but a bit sweet was simmering on the stove, and the table was already set. I relaxed just a little.
Adrian was stirring something on the stove. I put my arm around his waist and leaned my chin on his shoulder. I picked up the lid on a covered pot: rice. I said, “Feeling better?”
Adrian wrinkled his brow. “I haven’t been sick.”
He had water heating in the steamer and broccoli florets sitting on the counter. I said, “Hmm.”
Adrian said, “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Nothing. I’m going to change.”
Of course I detoured by the desk. Adrian was definitely coming out of his funk. Did that mean Justin was back? Nope. Brian was sitting on the couch by himself, his feet up on the coffee table. He was looking at a new T.V. As I watched, he stood up and went over and spoke into the intercom, then pressed the buzzer. I waited. Let it not be a trick, I prayed. Brian slid the door open and stood, looking out into the foyer. Justin tumbled through the door, laughing, and I started breathing again.
“Adrian,” I said, “turn the sauce off and come up here for a minute.”
“You know, Marc, this obsession of yours is totally out of control,” he said but he came.
Brian slid the door shut seconds before Justin wrapped himself around him, pressing his head into Brian’s shoulder, his arms around Brian’s chest. Brian put a hand under the kid’s chin, tipped his face up, and kissed him sweetly. Justin smiled his 100-watt smile and said something. Brian raised an eyebrow and replied. Justin smiled again, grabbed Brian by the hand, and started dragging him in the direction of the couch.
Brian followed him willingly enough, but when Justin thumped down on the couch and picked up the remote, Brian said something, frowned, and shook his head. “God, I wish I could read lips,” I muttered.
“I think it’s pretty obvious what he said,” Adrian said. Brian grabbed the remote and slapped it down on the coffee table.
Justin pouted and reached for it again. Brian grabbed his out-stretched hand and yanked forcefully enough to turn the kid sideways on the couch. Using Justin’s arm as a lever, Brian forced him on to his back. Justin was protesting, but Brian bent over him, silencing him with a bruising kiss. Justin pulled his wrist free and wrapped his arms around Brian’s neck, one hand in Brian’s hair.
“Looks like all is forgiven,” I murmured. I don’t know why I feel I have to talk softly when we’re spying. It’s not like there’s a chance in the world we can be heard.
They stopped kissing long enough for Brian to stretch out next to Justin, between Justin and the back of the couch. There was barely room for both of them side-by-side. In fact, for a moment there, it looked like Justin would slip off the couch altogether, but Brian anchored him by clamping one leg across Justin’s. Justin was laughing as he wriggled one arm around behind Brian, so that he was half under the bigger man.
We had settled on our couch. Adrian put his arm around me and pulled me close. I went willingly, leaning into him. I felt the distance of the past few days dissolving.
Brian was kissing Justin, at first slowly and gently, then more insistently. Brian’s head was propped on one hand, the other hand roamed. It slid under Justin’s shirt, pushing it up and baring his chest so that Brian could nip and lick Justin’s nipples. Next the hand worked on the fastening to Justin’s cargo pants, then disappeared from view. Justin clamped his hand down on Brian’s and pressed down.
I handed the binoculars to Adrian. “Look at their faces.”
“Yeah. Pretty hot.” He slipped his hand down the front of my shirt and rubbed the palm of over my nipples in circles. I sucked in my breath and he chuckled. “Like that, huh?”
“Mmm.”
Across the alley, Brian and Justin had stopped kissing and were shedding garments. Pants, shirts, briefs were skidding across the hardwood, no doubt ending in heaps along the wall. Brian knelt up between Justin’s legs, grabbed his ankles, and bent his legs enough so that Justin could turn over. As soon as Justin was on his stomach, Brian grabbed a couple of throw pillows and shoved them under him, elevating his ass. Brian’s hands were clenching Justin’s ass, and now he bent forward.
“Oh my God,” I said, “he’s going to rim him. This is so fucking amazing!”
“Damn right it is. You know that kid is going to start humping those pillows, and any minute now he’ll come all over them. Kinney paid extra for those fucking pillows when he bought the couch, and they ain’t cheap.”
I laughed. “I love you, Adrian,” I said, and I pulled his head around and kissed him, my tongue mimicking the moves I imagined Brian’s tongue making as he teased and probed Justin’s ass. Adrian opened wider, and I thrust my tongue in up to its root. “Just so you know,” I said, “that’s what going to happen to your asshole.” I was unbuttoning his shirt as I spoke.
“You aren’t paying attention to our neighbors,” he said. “I think Brian’s getting ready to fuck the kid.”
“Good for him. I’m more than ready to fuck you.” I stood up and shucked my jeans and briefs. “Would you get those damn pants off, for God’s sake?”
Adrian was still looking out the window. He picked up the binoculars again and adjusted the focus. “Yep. Fucking him. Can’t tell if the kid is coming all over the couch.” He shook his head. “Must be.”
He had finally gotten rid of his pants and underwear. I pressed up against his body, aligning our dicks, and ground against him. “Would you forget about the fucking furniture…which isn’t even our fucking furniture!…and get busy with the fucking?”
He gave me his mischievious smile. God, I had missed that smile. “We aren’t fucking on our couch. We are using the bed.” He grabbed my hand and started walking.
I gave one last look at the action in the loft as I followed Adrian into the bedroom. Justin was back. Adrian was himself again. Maybe there was no connection. Maybe.
Go to Chapter 14.
“Gee, I hope the robbers didn’t get the baby,” Jeff said.
Adrian winced, and Jeff looked maliciously happy.
I knew…I was certain…that I’d made a major mistake. I’d betrayed Adrian, and I had no idea how to defuse the situation I’d created. I mean, I went into anesthesiology partly because I prefer dealing with people who are unconscious. How lame is that?
“You both look like you could use a drink,” I said brightly. “Something alcoholic…or would you rather have a hot drink? I can put on some coffee…no trouble.” I took Jeff by the upper arm and started guiding him toward the kitchen.
After an initial hesitation and a look at Adrian, Jeff came along with me. “So tell me all about it,” he said.
Adrian hadn’t moved; he was standing with his back to us. I let go of Jeff’s arm and turned back toward my unhappy partner. If I’d had any doubts about whether I’d hurt Adrian, the set of his shoulders was enough to confirm it for me. I thought, What the fuck do I do now? I better separate him and Jeff and give Adrian a chance to pull himself together. If Jeff realizes how effective that crack was…. I gave my head a shake, trying to shake some inspiration loose. I wish I could ask Adrian if he has to go to the bathroom.That would be the perfect hiding place. I sent him frantic brain waves, but Adrian was apparently not receiving at present. Fuck.
“Adrian, would you do me a favor….” My voice trailed off. I didn’t have any favor in mind. What the hell would get him out of the room? “My mom called…” that much was true, “and said she’d like to speak to you.”
Mom always says, “Is Adrian around? I’d like to say Hi,” whenever she calls. I don’t remember her saying it this time, but what the hell?
Adrian turned, his face blank. I wasn’t sure he was computing. I went on, “She asked you to give her a call as soon as you got in. Something about a birthday gift? She said you’d know what she was talking about.” That was all pure invention.
“Okay.” Adrian reached for the phone on the desk.
Nix on that. “She said she needed to talk to you privately. You’d better use the phone in the bedroom.”
“Thanks.” Adrian’s eyes narrowed, and I thought I could see wheels grinding into motion. Thank God.
“What can I get you?” I asked Jeff.
Adrian was in the bedroom for half an hour, ostensibly talking to my mother. When he came out, he said, “Sorry, guys, but I have to run out and get something. I’ll be right back.”
In the meantime, I blew off Jeff’s questions with a minimum of information, told him the baby lived with its mothers and with Brian (I added hastily, after I saw Jeff begin to gloat again); some kind of joint custody, I said. When he wanted to talk about the police and Justin’s eviction, I turned the tables and asked if anything like that had ever happened to him. Turned out it had, only it was his ex calling the cops on him. Somehow I wasn’t surprised.
I got a long story about a night in a bar and his ex’s narrow-minded attitude toward ‘drunk as a skunk’ husbands who just want to have a little fun. Jeff just waved when Adrian came out of the bedroom and left on his errand. By the time Adrian got back, Jeff was dressed and ready to leave for the wedding, and I was thoroughly sick of listening to him cackling about his exploits.
I shut the door on Jeff and turned to where Adrian was spritzing the cabinet doors in the kitchen. This was not a good sign. Both Adrian and I are fairly tidy types who prefer a clean home, but we aren’t fanatical about it. When Adrian is upset, fanatical doesn’t begin to describe how he attacks dirt or the idea of dirt. Any minute now he’d be getting out the ammonia and staging an all-out assault on the oven.
I went over to him, put my arm around his shoulders, and tried to pull him in tight to my body. “Hey,” I said. “Relax. It’s O.K.”
“No, it’s not. I let him get to me, again.”
“I’m sorry. It’s my fault. I wasn’t thinking.”
“It’s not your fault. You weren’t out of line, I was. I let Jeff jerk my chain when I should have laughed it off. That’s what you and I are all about, Marc. We’re about living together as a couple, without trying to hide our relationship and without making excuses. What the fuck is wrong with me, that I can’t do that?”
“He’s your brother. There’s a lot of history there. Don’t kick yourself because he can turn you back into a sensitive 16-year-old kid. No one else does.”
Adrian looked at me silently for a moment, his brown eyes even larger than usual, then he said, “You haven’t gotten to know my other brothers yet.” He bent over and rummaged under the sink. “Every damn one of them can turn me into ‘a sensitive 16-year-old’ in seconds. Ahhh. Here’s the ammonia. I thought we had some.”
I shrugged and retreated to my desk where I could feel guilty without interfering with Adrian’s attempts to work off his misery. I was dying to tell him about the afternoon’s events, but even I, not the most intuitive guy in the world, had figured out that he wouldn’t be interested in a blow-by-blow account. Too bad. Brian and Co. had put on a mesmerizing show.
After Missy got done her tour of the loft, I started straightening up the condo. Nothing major - what my mother called “a lick and a promise.” When I was almost done, I took a look across the alley and noticed that the door to the loft was open. That made me look again. No matter how stoned or how drunk Brian is, he always slides that door shut. I got out the glasses and looked around carefully. Uh oh!…the T.V. was missing. Brian had been robbed!
My hand hovered over the phone…should I call the cops?...tell the police I know there’s been a burglary because I’m a peeping Tom?…or should I just not get involved? The deed was done…or was it? Perhaps the thieves would be back for more. I’m civic-minded, up to a point. Having the cops laughing their asses off because a peeping Tom just reported a crime is way past that point. In addition, they would have my cell phone number. I had no idea if they had a way of instantly tracking it to my address, but while investigating the crime, the police surely would have a way to find me. I was conflicted. In this age of cell phones, where the fuck did I last see a pay phone?
I thought for a minute while looking at Brian’s empty apartment and it dawned on me. The laundromat two blocks away. We needed milk and I could stop at 7-11 on my way home. So I did it; discretely called the cops to report the crime amidst the chaos of washers, dryers and a wide array of children running and screaming in the background. I gave the minimal amount of information to be helpful and quickly hung up. I was certain no one even noticed me.
Upon my return home, I witnessed Brian barely beating the police to the loft. He walked in, a trick in tow (surprise, surprise!) and started yelling. He didn’t register surprise when the two cops turned up, even though he hadn’t called them. Too angry and upset, I guess. Understandably so.
While the officers got out their notebooks and interviewed Brian, I kept thinking about Blondie. Two people living in the loft, one of whom always locks the door. Must be the other person who left it unlocked. Hmmm. How was Brian going to react? He outweighs the kid by at least a third, all of it muscle. If he hit Justin, what was I going to do? Call the cops again? I knew I wouldn’t let Brian do serious damage to the boy without intervening, no matter how I got my information.
I needn’t have worried. Justin barely had time to look around and let the scope of the theft register when Big Q Guy got there. Sometimes having a third party present at a confrontation isn’t a good idea, but this guy seemed to be calming Brian down, not stirring him up. Brian was angry and there was some yelling and a lot of hand-waving and fierce gestures, but he never touched the kid, not once. The kid was in a total state of shock but he was unharmed. Thank God.
Big Q Guy stayed while the kid threw some stuff in a duffel and left. They were just breaking out the pot when Jeff and Adrian walked in, and I said, “Brian and Big Q guy are over there getting stoned.” Good move, Marcus.
As soon as Jeff left for the wedding, Adrian turned on the TV. I knew it was just white noise to block out the world while he thought whatever he was thinking. He had a high school football game on. I’ll bet Adrian never watched high school football when he lived in Michigan. He certainly never watches it here.
Adrian was hunkered down at one end of the living room couch, and I sat at the other. I wanted desperately to comfort him, but how? His whole body posture screamed, Leave me alone!
That was the start of a very quiet evening. Anything I suggested, Adrian went along with, but with a total lack of enthusiasm or interest. It was almost a relief when he went to bed around midnight. I decided to stay up and wait for Jeff to come home. The last thing in the world Adrian needed to deal with now was a drunken Jeff.
Late night T.V. sucks. I kept taking quick looks at the loft, but it stayed dark. Brian hadn’t come home, with or without Justin. Funny how it felt like Adrian’s withdrawal was all tangled up with Brian’s burglary and Justin’s absence, as if Adrian would be back to his usual quirky, out-going self if Brian and Justin made up. Logically, that made no sense at all, but that’s how it felt.
Jeff rolled in at 3:00 a.m. this time, and once again, finding and using the key was beyond him. I got him into bed with no problems, and then I happily shed my sweats and crawled in next to Adrian. I turned my back to him and wriggled into his heat. In his sleep, he was willing to cuddle: his arm came around me and he pulled me close. I slept.
The last event of the wedding weekend was a brunch for the out-of-town guests. The invitation was for 10:30, and Jeff had a 3:00 p.m. flight, so he was going from the brunch to the airport. At 9:30 he was still snoring on the couch. Adrian was drinking coffee, standing in the kitchen, leaning on the counter. I said, “I guess I’d better get him up.”
Adrian set his mug down on the counter and gave me a weak smile. “I’ll do it.”
“Are you sure? I don’t mind.”
“No, it’s okay.” And he went in the living room. I listened from the kitchen as Adrian repeated Jeff’s name louder and louder until finally Jeff responded. Adrian said something in a quieter tone that I couldn’t hear, and Jeff answered just as quietly. I didn’t want to eavesdrop…or to be caught eavesdropping…so I went to check on the loft. No sign of life there. We weren’t out of the woods yet.
When I went back into the kitchen, Adrian was getting Jeff a cup of coffee. He looked over at me. “I’m ready to go out for a run,” he said.
“I’ll see Jeff on his way.”
“Thanks.” He gave me a kiss on the cheek and went out the door.
I saw a badly hung-over Jeff into a cab and on his way before Adrian was back from his run. As soon as I got back upstairs, I checked the loft again. Brian was sitting at the breakfast bar in the kitchen, wearing a sleek navy robe. I couldn't see his blond boy anywhere, but his female blonde was fussing around, slicing bagels and making coffee, while two fat little feet bobbed up and down in the baby carrier. Fuck. Crappy timing. If Adrian were here, this might be just what the doctor (me!) ordered. This he'd surely be interested in.
There wasn't much to see. The blonde popped a couple of bagels in the toaster, got out plates and mugs, then rummaged around in the refrigerator. This wasn't a scene that needed my undivided attention, so when I finished my coffee, I started for the kitchen to get a refill. I had just started to pour when I heard the key in the lock.
“Adrian,” I said, “Mom and the baby are visiting. Come on in here.”
“Not now. I stink. I'm going to take a shower."
Fuck. Fuck and damn that bastard Jeff to hell. I went back to the desk and stood sipping my coffee, but I wasn't paying much attention to the scene anymore. I was listening to the sounds coming from the bathroom. A flush, the electric toothbrush's growl, then the shower went on. All as it should be. Across the alley, Mom grabbed the baby in its carrier and left.
Brian didn’t look much happier than Adrian. He moped around for half an hour or so, threw on some clothes, and left.
No sign of Justin.
Adrian and I loafed around the apartment the rest of the day. This time I actually got some of the work done that I had planned on doing yesterday, then we met a couple of my colleagues for dinner. An hour of T.V. afterwards, and I was ready for bed. Even though I hadn’t gotten to bed until after 3:00 a.m., my internal alarm clock had only let me sleep until a little after 7:00. While that was an hour and a half later than usual, it wasn’t enough to keep me from falling asleep during X-Files. So at 10:00 p.m. I went to bed…alone. Adrian was still being unusually quiet and a little distant.
The loft was dark when I got home Monday. Brian finally came came home after 8:00, still dressed in a suit and carrying take out as well as his briefcase. He looked tired. He changed into his at-home uniform - ‘beater and jeans - God, the man is hot - and settled down with a magazine at the dining room table. There was no sign of Justin, I noticed apprehensively. I couldn’t shake the feeling that Brian and Justin’s rift was bad news for Adrian and me. Crazy, I know
I’m getting as obsessed as Adrian. Before I left at 6:00 a.m., I checked the loft. Brian was just getting up…alone…as I had guessed. Too bad.
Today I put in a long day, and when I got home a little before 7:00, Brian was already home…alone. Across the alley, at 10 Tremont, Adrian was still subdued and still uninterested in les affaires du loft. I was getting concerned. Or, rather, even more concerned. This was dragging out way too long. I was getting a better understanding of the issues that got Adrian started drugging and eventually landed him in rehab, and I didn’t like what I was learning.
I came home Wednesday determined to talk this out with Adrian. Enough was enough. I gritted my teeth, took a deep breath and opened the door to the condo. A delicious smell greeted me. Something tangy but a bit sweet was simmering on the stove, and the table was already set. I relaxed just a little.
Adrian was stirring something on the stove. I put my arm around his waist and leaned my chin on his shoulder. I picked up the lid on a covered pot: rice. I said, “Feeling better?”
Adrian wrinkled his brow. “I haven’t been sick.”
He had water heating in the steamer and broccoli florets sitting on the counter. I said, “Hmm.”
Adrian said, “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Nothing. I’m going to change.”
Of course I detoured by the desk. Adrian was definitely coming out of his funk. Did that mean Justin was back? Nope. Brian was sitting on the couch by himself, his feet up on the coffee table. He was looking at a new T.V. As I watched, he stood up and went over and spoke into the intercom, then pressed the buzzer. I waited. Let it not be a trick, I prayed. Brian slid the door open and stood, looking out into the foyer. Justin tumbled through the door, laughing, and I started breathing again.
“Adrian,” I said, “turn the sauce off and come up here for a minute.”
“You know, Marc, this obsession of yours is totally out of control,” he said but he came.
Brian slid the door shut seconds before Justin wrapped himself around him, pressing his head into Brian’s shoulder, his arms around Brian’s chest. Brian put a hand under the kid’s chin, tipped his face up, and kissed him sweetly. Justin smiled his 100-watt smile and said something. Brian raised an eyebrow and replied. Justin smiled again, grabbed Brian by the hand, and started dragging him in the direction of the couch.
Brian followed him willingly enough, but when Justin thumped down on the couch and picked up the remote, Brian said something, frowned, and shook his head. “God, I wish I could read lips,” I muttered.
“I think it’s pretty obvious what he said,” Adrian said. Brian grabbed the remote and slapped it down on the coffee table.
Justin pouted and reached for it again. Brian grabbed his out-stretched hand and yanked forcefully enough to turn the kid sideways on the couch. Using Justin’s arm as a lever, Brian forced him on to his back. Justin was protesting, but Brian bent over him, silencing him with a bruising kiss. Justin pulled his wrist free and wrapped his arms around Brian’s neck, one hand in Brian’s hair.
“Looks like all is forgiven,” I murmured. I don’t know why I feel I have to talk softly when we’re spying. It’s not like there’s a chance in the world we can be heard.
They stopped kissing long enough for Brian to stretch out next to Justin, between Justin and the back of the couch. There was barely room for both of them side-by-side. In fact, for a moment there, it looked like Justin would slip off the couch altogether, but Brian anchored him by clamping one leg across Justin’s. Justin was laughing as he wriggled one arm around behind Brian, so that he was half under the bigger man.
We had settled on our couch. Adrian put his arm around me and pulled me close. I went willingly, leaning into him. I felt the distance of the past few days dissolving.
Brian was kissing Justin, at first slowly and gently, then more insistently. Brian’s head was propped on one hand, the other hand roamed. It slid under Justin’s shirt, pushing it up and baring his chest so that Brian could nip and lick Justin’s nipples. Next the hand worked on the fastening to Justin’s cargo pants, then disappeared from view. Justin clamped his hand down on Brian’s and pressed down.
I handed the binoculars to Adrian. “Look at their faces.”
“Yeah. Pretty hot.” He slipped his hand down the front of my shirt and rubbed the palm of over my nipples in circles. I sucked in my breath and he chuckled. “Like that, huh?”
“Mmm.”
Across the alley, Brian and Justin had stopped kissing and were shedding garments. Pants, shirts, briefs were skidding across the hardwood, no doubt ending in heaps along the wall. Brian knelt up between Justin’s legs, grabbed his ankles, and bent his legs enough so that Justin could turn over. As soon as Justin was on his stomach, Brian grabbed a couple of throw pillows and shoved them under him, elevating his ass. Brian’s hands were clenching Justin’s ass, and now he bent forward.
“Oh my God,” I said, “he’s going to rim him. This is so fucking amazing!”
“Damn right it is. You know that kid is going to start humping those pillows, and any minute now he’ll come all over them. Kinney paid extra for those fucking pillows when he bought the couch, and they ain’t cheap.”
I laughed. “I love you, Adrian,” I said, and I pulled his head around and kissed him, my tongue mimicking the moves I imagined Brian’s tongue making as he teased and probed Justin’s ass. Adrian opened wider, and I thrust my tongue in up to its root. “Just so you know,” I said, “that’s what going to happen to your asshole.” I was unbuttoning his shirt as I spoke.
“You aren’t paying attention to our neighbors,” he said. “I think Brian’s getting ready to fuck the kid.”
“Good for him. I’m more than ready to fuck you.” I stood up and shucked my jeans and briefs. “Would you get those damn pants off, for God’s sake?”
Adrian was still looking out the window. He picked up the binoculars again and adjusted the focus. “Yep. Fucking him. Can’t tell if the kid is coming all over the couch.” He shook his head. “Must be.”
He had finally gotten rid of his pants and underwear. I pressed up against his body, aligning our dicks, and ground against him. “Would you forget about the fucking furniture…which isn’t even our fucking furniture!…and get busy with the fucking?”
He gave me his mischievious smile. God, I had missed that smile. “We aren’t fucking on our couch. We are using the bed.” He grabbed my hand and started walking.
I gave one last look at the action in the loft as I followed Adrian into the bedroom. Justin was back. Adrian was himself again. Maybe there was no connection. Maybe.
Go to Chapter 14.