"Midnight Clear" 2
At Woody's.
By Gaedhal
Pittsburgh, November 2005
"I can't believe you're really leaving Pittsburgh," Michael said quietly.
"Believe it," Brian replied. "Because in a little over a month, I'll be gone with the fucking wind!" He paused, thinking of Justin. He was halfway through his shift at the Watermark right about now. "We'll both be gone," he added.
Brian and Michael were sitting in their customary spot at the bar at Woody's. Michael was nursing a bottle of Old Pitt, while Brian was downing shots of Absolut.
Decent booze was Brian's last major extravagance. Everything else was on a strict budget. Brian winced whenever Justin said that fucking word. Budget. The ugliness of the term offended his delicate sensibilities. Food, clothing, magazines, toiletries, even gas for the Vette and the Jeep -- all had been stripped down to the basics. But Brian couldn't bring himself to order the cheap vodka or the no-name whiskey. He knew it was hypocritical, but so be it.
Soon -- very soon -- he'd be making money again. Maybe not the same kind of money he'd made at Vangard or even Ryder, but money never-the-less. They'd still have to be careful, though. San Francisco was an expensive city -- more expensive by far than Pittsburgh. Justin would still have to work and they'd both have to budget their expenses. Brian frowned. That fucking word again! Once he got back on his feet he make some decent investments that would assure they'd never have to go through a barren patch like this again.
Well, fuck Gardner Vance! And fuck Jim Stockwell, too! They'd ruined Pittsburgh but they weren't going to defeat Brian Kinney! He lifted his glass slightly and toasted the smokey air. Then he bolted down the shot and motioned the bartender for another hit.
"Brian? Did you hear what I said?" Michael nudged his friend.
"Sure," Brian nudged back. "I'm listening to every single word, Mikey -- as usual."
"Isn't there another way?" Michael asked. "Why can't you open your own agency? Then you can stay here. You won't have to leave town!"
Brian sighed. They'd been through all this before, but Michael still wouldn't believe it was necessary for Brian to leave town. "Open an agency with what? I can barely pay the balance on my goddamn VISA card, let alone get my hands on the start-up cash for a new ad agency. Vance owes me my partnership share, but it's a hell of a lot less than I deserve. Then I have to pay off the lawyers, who, frankly, did shit. I might as well have hired Melanie for all the good they did! And Gardner isn't in any hurry to pay me off. Every day he holds my money back is another day he can savor his fucking victory!"
"I hate that Gardner Vance," Michael mumbled. "And fucking Stockwell, too!"
"Join the club. But there's nothing I can do now. It's too late." Brian stared down at his fresh shot of Absolut. Maybe if he hadn't taken over Stockwell's mayoral campaign things might have been different. The campaign had been in the toilet until then, but Brian had turned it all around. Turned it around and fucked himself at the same time. Fucked the entire gay population of Pittsburgh. Without lube. "Too fucking late. But that's all water under the bridge over the Allegheny. I should have bugged out of this burg years ago. Gone to New York straight out of college when I was young and hung and hungry. Now I'm nothing but damaged goods in the ad game. Vance made certain of that!"
"But what would I have done without you for all those years, Brian?" Michael reflected. He tried to picture his life without Brian, both past and future, but he couldn't do it. He didn't want to do it.
"You would have been fine, Mikey," Brian reassured him. "'I Will Survive' and all that campy horse shit, right? But there's a lot of truth to it. What did Vic always say? We faggots can take a licking and keep on ticking. And that includes you."
"Maybe," Michael said grudgingly. "But I don't have to like it."
One of the things Michael hated the most about Brian leaving was that he wasn't going alone. He'd already reconciled himself to the fact that his best friend was in a relationship, although he didn't dare use that loaded word in front of Brian. He'd even come to like Justin. Sort of. Or at least not mind him so much. But Justin was such a little smart-ass. A preppie boy who was used to getting exactly what he wanted. The kind of guy he and Brian used to detest when they were in high school.
And now this privileged Ivy League grad had what Michael had longed for all those years. He had Brian. And the two of them were leaving Pittsburgh together. Going to live thousands of miles away in San Francisco. Queer Heaven! It wasn't fair! It just wasn't fair!
"Couldn't you find a job some place closer? Like Cleveland? Or Buffalo? Or Scranton? San Francisco is so far away," Michael moaned.
Scranton. Brian made a face. He'd never told Michael about the job offer from the firm in Scranton and he wasn't about to mention it now. "San Francisco is no farther away than Portland."
"You would have to bring that up," Michael huffed. He hated thinking about David and how badly their relationship had ended. "You were right, Brian. I should have listened to you from the beginning. What a mistake!"
"You were never cut out to be a doctor's wife," Brian stated. "At least not that doctor's wife!"
"But if I hadn't broken up with David and come back to the Pitts, then I never would have met Ben," Michael pointed out. "And we never would have adopted Hunter. Or moved into our house. So even when it seems bad, some things work out for the best in the end, you know?"
Brian gave Michael a disdainful look. All that optimistic Little Mary Sunshine bullshit gave him a sharp pain. He expected it from Emmett, but not from Mikey. "Yeah, and if my aunt had balls she'd be my fucking uncle!"
"If you'd gone to New York after college you never would have met Justin," Michael countered. "And you wouldn't be in a relationship with him now."
There, he'd said it! Michael glanced sideways at his friend, waiting for the explosion.
But Brian only sat there, staring and turning the empty shot glass with his long, beautiful fingers. Michael loved Brian's hands. There was something so strong and graceful about them. How many times in his life had be looked at them and imagined them touching him? Too many times to count. But soon they would be out of reach, probably forever. Once Brian and Justin left town, they'd never look back. That was one of Brian's rules -- never look back. Never have any regrets.
Michael felt something rising in the back of his throat, almost choking him. But he swallowed it back down. Swallowed all of his old hopes. His old dreams. From now on, he wouldn't have Brian to depend on. It was time to grow up. Finally.
Michael drained his bottle of Old Pitt and stood up. "I have to get home. It's getting late."
Brian nodded. "Don't forget that Justin's birthday is next week."
"Oh, right." Michael slipped on his jacket. "When is it again?"
"Thursday. December the 8th. He's got some idea about having people over to eat cake." Brian smiled to himself. The little shit! "He's going to make the fucking cake himself!"
"Has he ever made a cake before?" Michael knew that Justin occasionally cooked, but he'd never actually tasted any of his food.
"I have no idea. But he couldn't do any worse than those Betty Crocker monstrosities your mom used to produce. How come Vic got all the culinary talent in the family?"
"Asshole! My mother does just fine in the kitchen!" Michael exclaimed. "I never heard you complaining when you showed up at mealtime when we were kids!"
"You've had my mother's food, Mikey. I would have eaten roadkill back in those days," Brian sniffed. "But Deb's lasagna isn't half bad. She should give Justin the recipe before we leave town."
Michael rolled his eyes. "I'll make a note of that." He leaned over and kissed Brian's cheek. Felt the scratchiness along his jaw. Smelled the musky scent of him, part sweat, part cologne, and all pure testosterone. It was an odor he knew as well as anything in his life. Michael closed his eyes and inhaled it.
"Good night, Michael," said Brian, pushing him away gently.
"Night, Brian." And then he was gone.
Brian was just about to order another drink when he felt his cell vibrate in his pocket. It was too early for Justin to be finished at the Watermark. He took the phone out and looked at the number.
Then he got up and walked away from the bar, looking for a little privacy as he took the call.
***
By Gaedhal
Pittsburgh, November 2005
"I can't believe you're really leaving Pittsburgh," Michael said quietly.
"Believe it," Brian replied. "Because in a little over a month, I'll be gone with the fucking wind!" He paused, thinking of Justin. He was halfway through his shift at the Watermark right about now. "We'll both be gone," he added.
Brian and Michael were sitting in their customary spot at the bar at Woody's. Michael was nursing a bottle of Old Pitt, while Brian was downing shots of Absolut.
Decent booze was Brian's last major extravagance. Everything else was on a strict budget. Brian winced whenever Justin said that fucking word. Budget. The ugliness of the term offended his delicate sensibilities. Food, clothing, magazines, toiletries, even gas for the Vette and the Jeep -- all had been stripped down to the basics. But Brian couldn't bring himself to order the cheap vodka or the no-name whiskey. He knew it was hypocritical, but so be it.
Soon -- very soon -- he'd be making money again. Maybe not the same kind of money he'd made at Vangard or even Ryder, but money never-the-less. They'd still have to be careful, though. San Francisco was an expensive city -- more expensive by far than Pittsburgh. Justin would still have to work and they'd both have to budget their expenses. Brian frowned. That fucking word again! Once he got back on his feet he make some decent investments that would assure they'd never have to go through a barren patch like this again.
Well, fuck Gardner Vance! And fuck Jim Stockwell, too! They'd ruined Pittsburgh but they weren't going to defeat Brian Kinney! He lifted his glass slightly and toasted the smokey air. Then he bolted down the shot and motioned the bartender for another hit.
"Brian? Did you hear what I said?" Michael nudged his friend.
"Sure," Brian nudged back. "I'm listening to every single word, Mikey -- as usual."
"Isn't there another way?" Michael asked. "Why can't you open your own agency? Then you can stay here. You won't have to leave town!"
Brian sighed. They'd been through all this before, but Michael still wouldn't believe it was necessary for Brian to leave town. "Open an agency with what? I can barely pay the balance on my goddamn VISA card, let alone get my hands on the start-up cash for a new ad agency. Vance owes me my partnership share, but it's a hell of a lot less than I deserve. Then I have to pay off the lawyers, who, frankly, did shit. I might as well have hired Melanie for all the good they did! And Gardner isn't in any hurry to pay me off. Every day he holds my money back is another day he can savor his fucking victory!"
"I hate that Gardner Vance," Michael mumbled. "And fucking Stockwell, too!"
"Join the club. But there's nothing I can do now. It's too late." Brian stared down at his fresh shot of Absolut. Maybe if he hadn't taken over Stockwell's mayoral campaign things might have been different. The campaign had been in the toilet until then, but Brian had turned it all around. Turned it around and fucked himself at the same time. Fucked the entire gay population of Pittsburgh. Without lube. "Too fucking late. But that's all water under the bridge over the Allegheny. I should have bugged out of this burg years ago. Gone to New York straight out of college when I was young and hung and hungry. Now I'm nothing but damaged goods in the ad game. Vance made certain of that!"
"But what would I have done without you for all those years, Brian?" Michael reflected. He tried to picture his life without Brian, both past and future, but he couldn't do it. He didn't want to do it.
"You would have been fine, Mikey," Brian reassured him. "'I Will Survive' and all that campy horse shit, right? But there's a lot of truth to it. What did Vic always say? We faggots can take a licking and keep on ticking. And that includes you."
"Maybe," Michael said grudgingly. "But I don't have to like it."
One of the things Michael hated the most about Brian leaving was that he wasn't going alone. He'd already reconciled himself to the fact that his best friend was in a relationship, although he didn't dare use that loaded word in front of Brian. He'd even come to like Justin. Sort of. Or at least not mind him so much. But Justin was such a little smart-ass. A preppie boy who was used to getting exactly what he wanted. The kind of guy he and Brian used to detest when they were in high school.
And now this privileged Ivy League grad had what Michael had longed for all those years. He had Brian. And the two of them were leaving Pittsburgh together. Going to live thousands of miles away in San Francisco. Queer Heaven! It wasn't fair! It just wasn't fair!
"Couldn't you find a job some place closer? Like Cleveland? Or Buffalo? Or Scranton? San Francisco is so far away," Michael moaned.
Scranton. Brian made a face. He'd never told Michael about the job offer from the firm in Scranton and he wasn't about to mention it now. "San Francisco is no farther away than Portland."
"You would have to bring that up," Michael huffed. He hated thinking about David and how badly their relationship had ended. "You were right, Brian. I should have listened to you from the beginning. What a mistake!"
"You were never cut out to be a doctor's wife," Brian stated. "At least not that doctor's wife!"
"But if I hadn't broken up with David and come back to the Pitts, then I never would have met Ben," Michael pointed out. "And we never would have adopted Hunter. Or moved into our house. So even when it seems bad, some things work out for the best in the end, you know?"
Brian gave Michael a disdainful look. All that optimistic Little Mary Sunshine bullshit gave him a sharp pain. He expected it from Emmett, but not from Mikey. "Yeah, and if my aunt had balls she'd be my fucking uncle!"
"If you'd gone to New York after college you never would have met Justin," Michael countered. "And you wouldn't be in a relationship with him now."
There, he'd said it! Michael glanced sideways at his friend, waiting for the explosion.
But Brian only sat there, staring and turning the empty shot glass with his long, beautiful fingers. Michael loved Brian's hands. There was something so strong and graceful about them. How many times in his life had be looked at them and imagined them touching him? Too many times to count. But soon they would be out of reach, probably forever. Once Brian and Justin left town, they'd never look back. That was one of Brian's rules -- never look back. Never have any regrets.
Michael felt something rising in the back of his throat, almost choking him. But he swallowed it back down. Swallowed all of his old hopes. His old dreams. From now on, he wouldn't have Brian to depend on. It was time to grow up. Finally.
Michael drained his bottle of Old Pitt and stood up. "I have to get home. It's getting late."
Brian nodded. "Don't forget that Justin's birthday is next week."
"Oh, right." Michael slipped on his jacket. "When is it again?"
"Thursday. December the 8th. He's got some idea about having people over to eat cake." Brian smiled to himself. The little shit! "He's going to make the fucking cake himself!"
"Has he ever made a cake before?" Michael knew that Justin occasionally cooked, but he'd never actually tasted any of his food.
"I have no idea. But he couldn't do any worse than those Betty Crocker monstrosities your mom used to produce. How come Vic got all the culinary talent in the family?"
"Asshole! My mother does just fine in the kitchen!" Michael exclaimed. "I never heard you complaining when you showed up at mealtime when we were kids!"
"You've had my mother's food, Mikey. I would have eaten roadkill back in those days," Brian sniffed. "But Deb's lasagna isn't half bad. She should give Justin the recipe before we leave town."
Michael rolled his eyes. "I'll make a note of that." He leaned over and kissed Brian's cheek. Felt the scratchiness along his jaw. Smelled the musky scent of him, part sweat, part cologne, and all pure testosterone. It was an odor he knew as well as anything in his life. Michael closed his eyes and inhaled it.
"Good night, Michael," said Brian, pushing him away gently.
"Night, Brian." And then he was gone.
Brian was just about to order another drink when he felt his cell vibrate in his pocket. It was too early for Justin to be finished at the Watermark. He took the phone out and looked at the number.
Then he got up and walked away from the bar, looking for a little privacy as he took the call.
***