253 Creekside Canyon II -- Part 4
A few hard truths.
By Gaedhal
Pittsburgh, January 2006
Brian stood like a stone, his face impassive, as he watched Ron leave. Then he turned abruptly and strode swiftly back to his office.
But Cynthia was hot on his heels.
"Brian! What the hell is wrong with you?" she demanded. "That man came here to see you! And you just let him walk out of here like that?"
"It's none of your fucking business," Brian retorted as he moved behind his desk. "My personal life is just that -- personal!"
Cynthia paused, watching her boss. He opened his briefcase and put some papers inside. Then he slipped in his iBook and zipped it shut.
"What are you doing?" Cynthia asked.
"Leaving," said Brian. He walked over to the closet, got his coat and scarf, and put them on. "I'll be back Monday."
"But... but what about the Dandy Lube account?" Cynthia blurted. "The meeting is in 45 minutes! They're coming in from Philadelphia!"
"If you and Ted can't handle Dandy Lube, then what the fuck am I paying you for?" Brian pushed past her and headed down the hallway towards the exit.
"But Brian...!" Cynthia followed him to the glass doors.
Brian halted for a moment and gave her an exasperated look. "I'm damned if I do and damned if I don't. Isn't that always the way it is?" He took a deep breath before leaving. "See you Monday morning -- I think."
***
Ron stood outside of the building that now housed Kinnetik, his head spinning. Leave it to Brian to convert an old bathhouse into an ultra-modern office space. But why did it have to be in such a shitty part of town?
He took out his cellphone and began to scroll through the numbers.
It had been foolish not to let Brian know he was coming. But then it had probably been foolish to come to Pittsburgh in the first place. And certainly foolish to let the taxi drop him off in this crummy alley in this even crummier section of Pittsburgh and then take off. He thought he'd saved the number of the cab company, but he couldn't find it. But he'd be damned if he was going to go back inside and ask for a fucking phone book!
"Ron."
He turned around to see Brian, looking impossibly beautiful -- as usual -- in a long leather coat, coming down the steps of the old bathhouse. He walked over to the dark green Corvette and unlocked it.
"Get in," Brian ordered, indicating the passenger's seat.
"Shit," Ron whispered to himself. He knew this entire trip had been a mistake, but it was too late to correct it. But Ron knew it had been too late since the day he met Brian way back in 1988. That was the problem. "Can you take me to the airport?" he said firmly, putting his cellphone back in his pocket.
"Are you going to get in?" Brian stowed his briefcase behind the driver's seat and then popped the trunk open. He looked up at the iron gray sky. A few white flakes were filtering down, blotting against the windshield. "Or are we going to stand here until the snow piles up to our asses?"
Ron closed his eyes. There was no fighting it. It wasn't even a contest. Ron couldn't have said no to Brian even if he had really wanted to. And he didn't want to. He picked up his suitcase and put it into the trunk. Then he got into the car.
Brian revved the engine and pointed the Vette up the alley and out onto the main street.
"Your office really is an old bathhouse," Ron commented. He didn't know what else to say. And he noticed that Brian wasn't headed for the airport. Obviously. "I thought you were joking."
"Why would I joke about a thing like that?" Brian smiled slightly. "I spent many cheerful and debauched hours in that building. So when my arch-nemesis, Jim Stockwell, shut the place down, I simply rescued it. Now, instead of being a breeding ground for numerous varieties of genital parasites and STD's, it's a breeding ground for numerous advertising campaigns for watered-down beer, artery-clogging steaks, and expensive designer glasses. Not to mention Dandy Lube."
Ron frowned. "Dandy Lube? Is that like Astro Glide?"
Brian smirked back at him. "Sort of. But it goes in your car's ass instead of your own."
"I see." Ron tried looking out the window, but his eyes kept turning to gaze at Brian. That classic profile. That one lock of golden brown hair falling down against his forehead. Ron wanted to lean over and brush it back into place. And do so much more. "You really are a bastard, you know that?"
"I know," Brian agreed. "It's part of my charm."
Ron saw that they were getting close to the loft. That much he remembered from his December visit. Well, he thought, I guess I'll be staying, at least for the weekend.
"Brian, tell me something. Why the fuck didn't you return any of my calls?"
No response. Brian drove the Vette around the back of Brian's building and pulled into the garage.
Ron tried again. "Are you going to answer me, or are you going to pretend that questions you don't want to hear have never been asked?"
Brian furrowed his brow. "Did you come all the way from Los Angeles to talk -- or to fuck?"
Ron stared at him. "Jesus, Brian! You know, I've been feeling a lot of resentment towards your ex because of the way I thought he hurt you. But I'm beginning to see what the hell he was up against. Is this the way you responded when he tried to get a straight answer out of you?"
"I never give a straight answer. Only queer ones." Brian got out of the car and retrieved Ron's suitcase from the trunk. "I never do anything straight."
"I know you think you're being cute, Brian," said Ron. "But you aren't cute. Do you realize that I canceled a meeting with the casting director of my new film in order to come here this weekend? I was also scheduled to see an actor in an Off Broadway play, have dinner with some potential producers, and spend some time with my two sisters and their families. But I came here instead. Because I couldn't go another fucking day without hearing your voice. Or seeing your face." Ron grabbed Brian's arm and squeezed it. "Or touching you. I know you despise that sort of declaration, so I suppose you despise me, at least a little. But it's the truth. You pride yourself in always telling the truth, so allow me the same privilege."
"I don't despise you," said Brian, his face serious. "You know that."
"Then don't ignore me!" Ron cried. "Don't shut me out! Not the way you try to shut out everyone who cares about you. Or anyone who tries to get close to you. Not everyone wants to hurt you, Brian. I don't want to hurt you! So don't keep pushing me away!"
"I'm not!" Brian said. "I don't mean to! I... this is fucked up, Ron. I'm fucked up! That's just the way I am. Why would you want to get involved with a person who has that much emotional baggage? Why would you waste your time on someone who... who you'll only end up leaving?"
"You're the one who left me!" Ron reminded him. "Back in New York. And then you left me out in L.A. and didn't return my calls. But I refuse to leave it at that, Brian. That's why I came here. You may be a stubborn, hard-headed Irishman, but I'm just as hard-headed. Just as stubborn. I had to be in order to survive in Hollywood. Not only survive, but succeed. I didn't get where I am today by letting things go."
"And look where you are now! Fabulous Pittsburgh!" Brian shook his head. "Fuck! Is this where you really want to be, Ron?"
"Yes," said Ron, putting his face right up to Brian's. Challenging him to listen. To believe. "Because this is where you are. And that's all that matters to me. Really. And that's MY truth, Brian. Take it -- or leave it."
By Gaedhal
Pittsburgh, January 2006
Brian stood like a stone, his face impassive, as he watched Ron leave. Then he turned abruptly and strode swiftly back to his office.
But Cynthia was hot on his heels.
"Brian! What the hell is wrong with you?" she demanded. "That man came here to see you! And you just let him walk out of here like that?"
"It's none of your fucking business," Brian retorted as he moved behind his desk. "My personal life is just that -- personal!"
Cynthia paused, watching her boss. He opened his briefcase and put some papers inside. Then he slipped in his iBook and zipped it shut.
"What are you doing?" Cynthia asked.
"Leaving," said Brian. He walked over to the closet, got his coat and scarf, and put them on. "I'll be back Monday."
"But... but what about the Dandy Lube account?" Cynthia blurted. "The meeting is in 45 minutes! They're coming in from Philadelphia!"
"If you and Ted can't handle Dandy Lube, then what the fuck am I paying you for?" Brian pushed past her and headed down the hallway towards the exit.
"But Brian...!" Cynthia followed him to the glass doors.
Brian halted for a moment and gave her an exasperated look. "I'm damned if I do and damned if I don't. Isn't that always the way it is?" He took a deep breath before leaving. "See you Monday morning -- I think."
***
Ron stood outside of the building that now housed Kinnetik, his head spinning. Leave it to Brian to convert an old bathhouse into an ultra-modern office space. But why did it have to be in such a shitty part of town?
He took out his cellphone and began to scroll through the numbers.
It had been foolish not to let Brian know he was coming. But then it had probably been foolish to come to Pittsburgh in the first place. And certainly foolish to let the taxi drop him off in this crummy alley in this even crummier section of Pittsburgh and then take off. He thought he'd saved the number of the cab company, but he couldn't find it. But he'd be damned if he was going to go back inside and ask for a fucking phone book!
"Ron."
He turned around to see Brian, looking impossibly beautiful -- as usual -- in a long leather coat, coming down the steps of the old bathhouse. He walked over to the dark green Corvette and unlocked it.
"Get in," Brian ordered, indicating the passenger's seat.
"Shit," Ron whispered to himself. He knew this entire trip had been a mistake, but it was too late to correct it. But Ron knew it had been too late since the day he met Brian way back in 1988. That was the problem. "Can you take me to the airport?" he said firmly, putting his cellphone back in his pocket.
"Are you going to get in?" Brian stowed his briefcase behind the driver's seat and then popped the trunk open. He looked up at the iron gray sky. A few white flakes were filtering down, blotting against the windshield. "Or are we going to stand here until the snow piles up to our asses?"
Ron closed his eyes. There was no fighting it. It wasn't even a contest. Ron couldn't have said no to Brian even if he had really wanted to. And he didn't want to. He picked up his suitcase and put it into the trunk. Then he got into the car.
Brian revved the engine and pointed the Vette up the alley and out onto the main street.
"Your office really is an old bathhouse," Ron commented. He didn't know what else to say. And he noticed that Brian wasn't headed for the airport. Obviously. "I thought you were joking."
"Why would I joke about a thing like that?" Brian smiled slightly. "I spent many cheerful and debauched hours in that building. So when my arch-nemesis, Jim Stockwell, shut the place down, I simply rescued it. Now, instead of being a breeding ground for numerous varieties of genital parasites and STD's, it's a breeding ground for numerous advertising campaigns for watered-down beer, artery-clogging steaks, and expensive designer glasses. Not to mention Dandy Lube."
Ron frowned. "Dandy Lube? Is that like Astro Glide?"
Brian smirked back at him. "Sort of. But it goes in your car's ass instead of your own."
"I see." Ron tried looking out the window, but his eyes kept turning to gaze at Brian. That classic profile. That one lock of golden brown hair falling down against his forehead. Ron wanted to lean over and brush it back into place. And do so much more. "You really are a bastard, you know that?"
"I know," Brian agreed. "It's part of my charm."
Ron saw that they were getting close to the loft. That much he remembered from his December visit. Well, he thought, I guess I'll be staying, at least for the weekend.
"Brian, tell me something. Why the fuck didn't you return any of my calls?"
No response. Brian drove the Vette around the back of Brian's building and pulled into the garage.
Ron tried again. "Are you going to answer me, or are you going to pretend that questions you don't want to hear have never been asked?"
Brian furrowed his brow. "Did you come all the way from Los Angeles to talk -- or to fuck?"
Ron stared at him. "Jesus, Brian! You know, I've been feeling a lot of resentment towards your ex because of the way I thought he hurt you. But I'm beginning to see what the hell he was up against. Is this the way you responded when he tried to get a straight answer out of you?"
"I never give a straight answer. Only queer ones." Brian got out of the car and retrieved Ron's suitcase from the trunk. "I never do anything straight."
"I know you think you're being cute, Brian," said Ron. "But you aren't cute. Do you realize that I canceled a meeting with the casting director of my new film in order to come here this weekend? I was also scheduled to see an actor in an Off Broadway play, have dinner with some potential producers, and spend some time with my two sisters and their families. But I came here instead. Because I couldn't go another fucking day without hearing your voice. Or seeing your face." Ron grabbed Brian's arm and squeezed it. "Or touching you. I know you despise that sort of declaration, so I suppose you despise me, at least a little. But it's the truth. You pride yourself in always telling the truth, so allow me the same privilege."
"I don't despise you," said Brian, his face serious. "You know that."
"Then don't ignore me!" Ron cried. "Don't shut me out! Not the way you try to shut out everyone who cares about you. Or anyone who tries to get close to you. Not everyone wants to hurt you, Brian. I don't want to hurt you! So don't keep pushing me away!"
"I'm not!" Brian said. "I don't mean to! I... this is fucked up, Ron. I'm fucked up! That's just the way I am. Why would you want to get involved with a person who has that much emotional baggage? Why would you waste your time on someone who... who you'll only end up leaving?"
"You're the one who left me!" Ron reminded him. "Back in New York. And then you left me out in L.A. and didn't return my calls. But I refuse to leave it at that, Brian. That's why I came here. You may be a stubborn, hard-headed Irishman, but I'm just as hard-headed. Just as stubborn. I had to be in order to survive in Hollywood. Not only survive, but succeed. I didn't get where I am today by letting things go."
"And look where you are now! Fabulous Pittsburgh!" Brian shook his head. "Fuck! Is this where you really want to be, Ron?"
"Yes," said Ron, putting his face right up to Brian's. Challenging him to listen. To believe. "Because this is where you are. And that's all that matters to me. Really. And that's MY truth, Brian. Take it -- or leave it."