"Midnight Clear" 38
Vibrate.
By Gaedhal
San Francisco, December 2005
Everything was perfect.
The tasteful, not-too-Christmasy decor. The carefully chosen music from the jazz trio. The selection of spicy Thai finger-food. The open bar manned by The Maxim's hunkiest bartenders. And the guests -- a mix of elegant, wealthy older men, hot, successful guys in their late twenties and thirties, and a smattering of prime twinks who knew how to behave in adult company.
"Swell, Brian! Just swell!" Tony Conway was practically having an orgasm he was so pleased with the way the weekend was going. Even his persnickety partner, Mark, seemed to be enjoying himself. "Everyone is commenting on this event." He took out a handful of business cards. "Look at these! All guys wanting me to contact them about future work! And they all want to know who our new associate is. You're creating quite a buzz!"
"Of course." Brian smoothed his Armani tuxedo jacket. "I made certain every detail was taken care of. That's the kind of work I do. I told you this party would be exemplary, and I meant it."
Tony squeezed Brian's arm. "This event is going to take us to a whole new level! Dan and Jon and I have been discussing the possibility of opening an office in either New York or L.A. for a while now. I think it's time to make that move. And you might be the perfect person to help us go there."
Brian sighed. He'd heard that New York talk before from Gardner Vance. But that's all it turned out to be -- talk.
"Let me get settled in San Francisco first. I haven't even found a place to live here and you're already moving me all over the fucking country!"
Tony laughed in his braying way as he slapped Brian on the back. "This is big, Brian! Radev's business alone is going to put us on the level of some of the mainstream public relations agencies, let alone the niche market firms. With more businesses coming out of the closet we're in an ideal position to corner that market! And also to go for some straight businesses that have a large gay clientele. MTV is planning to start up a gay-themed cable channel, sort of a Queer VH-1. We'd be perfect to do their P.R.! That's why we need to expand out of San Francisco and start playing with the big boys!"
Brian shook his head. He had no illusions that Tony Conway and his partners were anywhere near ready to play with the big boys in markets like Los Angeles or New York. But it was something to shoot for.
But Tony was right about one thing -- this series of holiday events at The Maxim was a step in the right direction. Stefan Radev's hotels and resorts were international, and if he decided to get into the gay cruise business, that would be another move into a larger and tougher, but also more lucrative world.
But besides the accolades he was getting for the holiday events, Brian was also attracting a lot of attention personally. In fact, he hadn't been cruised so heavily since his last P-Town Party.
He held his head a little higher and straightened his shoulders, preening a bit. Why not? He deserved it. It was good to be admired. It made him feel that even if he was over 30, he wasn't exactly over the hill. He was still hot. He could still attract any man he wanted. His ego needed that boost.
His fucking ego. Yes, his ego loved the attention. But something else inside knew it was a hollow victory.
"I must thank you." Radev sidled up next to Brian as he watched the trio play. Radev was holding a flute of champagne. "My party is a huge success. The music is especially good. I love Cole Porter."
"Actually, that's a Billy Strayhorn tune they're playing," said Brian. He took a sip of his double Absolut. After getting smashed the night before, he was pacing himself carefully. It would be too easy to fall into a pattern of over-indulging out of sheer ennui. Or to fall back on getting drunk as a part of the Kinney Legacy of pain management. Except he wasn't in pain. Why should he be? Things were going perfectly! Everyone said so!
"Ah," Radev said, nodding. "I stand corrected. I am not such an expert on American music."
Brian shrugged. "I'm better with The Velvet Underground or The Cure, but I also enjoy jazz, especially Miles Davis. Thelonious Monk. Old School Be-bop. That kind of thing."
"Perhaps you might tutor me?" Radev suggested. "Privately."
This guy never gave up! "I don't think so."
"It is always worth trying," Radev replied. "That is how I have gotten where I am -- always trying. I imagine it is the same with you, Brian. We are alike in that."
"You could say that about many successful people," Brian returned. "I keep trying because I refuse to go back to where I was or what I was. I have to move forward. It's the only way."
"Like a shark," Radev observed. "It must move ahead or die."
Brian kept his eyes on the musicians. "It takes one to know one."
Radev smiled. "Touché, my beautiful friend."
Brian felt his phone vibrate in his inside pocket. "Excuse me." He turned away and took out the cell. But it wasn't Justin. It was Michael. Probably giving Brian an update on how Ben and Hunter were doing. Or else wanting to ream him out for missing Christmas. He let it go to voicemail. He'd deal with Mikey tomorrow.
"Your lover?" Radev was right next to him.
"No. My oldest friend. I'll call him back later."
"It is difficult to be far from home and family on the holidays." Radev took a French cigarette from his case. He offered one to Brian, but Brian declined.
"It's no problem. I'm used to being alone," Brian stated. And it had always been true. He was used to solitude. And he had always pretended that he liked it. The Lone Wolf. Always walking his own way, on his own terms. Brian Kinney, who didn't need anyone else to survive. Who never let another heart touch his own.
Except it was a lie. A lie that was more obvious every day he was away from home. And away from Justin.
Brian walked away from Radev. He didn't need to deal with his bullshit tonight, even if he was the client. He eyed one of the waiters, a dark-haired, blue-eyed specimen with a sullen pout. Brian needed something quick and easy. Something to make him forget he was lonely. To forget it was Christmas Eve and there was somewhere else he'd rather be.
The cell began to vibrate again. It felt like an urgent bee next to his heart. He took the Razr out and looked at it. Mikey again. He really must want to talk. But this wasn't the time or the place. Brian shoved it back into his jacket.
He looked around, but didn't see the pouty waiter. It didn't matter -- he didn't matter. Guys like the waiter were like buses -- another would come by in a few minutes. The only thing that mattered was the ride.
Brian made a circle around the room, making certain that every station was going smoothly. Bar. Food. Music. Servers circulating. He even checked the men's room to see if there was any activity in there holding up the line. Ordinarily he'd be the one holding up the line, but tonight things needed to move along. This wasn't Babylon. Or Inferno. This was a classy party. He didn't mind guys hooking up, but this wasn't the place for sex in the toilets.
Jesus, thought Brian. Look at me! Now I'm the fucking sex police. Forget that shit!
He went to get another drink. Another double Absolut, straight up.
"Brian," said Tony Conway, touching his shoulder. "There's a call for you in the hotel office."
Brian set down his glass. "A call?"
"Yes." Tony's face was serious. "It's from a Michael Novotny in Pittsburgh. He says it's an emergency."
Brian swallowed. "Shit," he whispered. And then he went to take the call.
***
By Gaedhal
San Francisco, December 2005
Everything was perfect.
The tasteful, not-too-Christmasy decor. The carefully chosen music from the jazz trio. The selection of spicy Thai finger-food. The open bar manned by The Maxim's hunkiest bartenders. And the guests -- a mix of elegant, wealthy older men, hot, successful guys in their late twenties and thirties, and a smattering of prime twinks who knew how to behave in adult company.
"Swell, Brian! Just swell!" Tony Conway was practically having an orgasm he was so pleased with the way the weekend was going. Even his persnickety partner, Mark, seemed to be enjoying himself. "Everyone is commenting on this event." He took out a handful of business cards. "Look at these! All guys wanting me to contact them about future work! And they all want to know who our new associate is. You're creating quite a buzz!"
"Of course." Brian smoothed his Armani tuxedo jacket. "I made certain every detail was taken care of. That's the kind of work I do. I told you this party would be exemplary, and I meant it."
Tony squeezed Brian's arm. "This event is going to take us to a whole new level! Dan and Jon and I have been discussing the possibility of opening an office in either New York or L.A. for a while now. I think it's time to make that move. And you might be the perfect person to help us go there."
Brian sighed. He'd heard that New York talk before from Gardner Vance. But that's all it turned out to be -- talk.
"Let me get settled in San Francisco first. I haven't even found a place to live here and you're already moving me all over the fucking country!"
Tony laughed in his braying way as he slapped Brian on the back. "This is big, Brian! Radev's business alone is going to put us on the level of some of the mainstream public relations agencies, let alone the niche market firms. With more businesses coming out of the closet we're in an ideal position to corner that market! And also to go for some straight businesses that have a large gay clientele. MTV is planning to start up a gay-themed cable channel, sort of a Queer VH-1. We'd be perfect to do their P.R.! That's why we need to expand out of San Francisco and start playing with the big boys!"
Brian shook his head. He had no illusions that Tony Conway and his partners were anywhere near ready to play with the big boys in markets like Los Angeles or New York. But it was something to shoot for.
But Tony was right about one thing -- this series of holiday events at The Maxim was a step in the right direction. Stefan Radev's hotels and resorts were international, and if he decided to get into the gay cruise business, that would be another move into a larger and tougher, but also more lucrative world.
But besides the accolades he was getting for the holiday events, Brian was also attracting a lot of attention personally. In fact, he hadn't been cruised so heavily since his last P-Town Party.
He held his head a little higher and straightened his shoulders, preening a bit. Why not? He deserved it. It was good to be admired. It made him feel that even if he was over 30, he wasn't exactly over the hill. He was still hot. He could still attract any man he wanted. His ego needed that boost.
His fucking ego. Yes, his ego loved the attention. But something else inside knew it was a hollow victory.
"I must thank you." Radev sidled up next to Brian as he watched the trio play. Radev was holding a flute of champagne. "My party is a huge success. The music is especially good. I love Cole Porter."
"Actually, that's a Billy Strayhorn tune they're playing," said Brian. He took a sip of his double Absolut. After getting smashed the night before, he was pacing himself carefully. It would be too easy to fall into a pattern of over-indulging out of sheer ennui. Or to fall back on getting drunk as a part of the Kinney Legacy of pain management. Except he wasn't in pain. Why should he be? Things were going perfectly! Everyone said so!
"Ah," Radev said, nodding. "I stand corrected. I am not such an expert on American music."
Brian shrugged. "I'm better with The Velvet Underground or The Cure, but I also enjoy jazz, especially Miles Davis. Thelonious Monk. Old School Be-bop. That kind of thing."
"Perhaps you might tutor me?" Radev suggested. "Privately."
This guy never gave up! "I don't think so."
"It is always worth trying," Radev replied. "That is how I have gotten where I am -- always trying. I imagine it is the same with you, Brian. We are alike in that."
"You could say that about many successful people," Brian returned. "I keep trying because I refuse to go back to where I was or what I was. I have to move forward. It's the only way."
"Like a shark," Radev observed. "It must move ahead or die."
Brian kept his eyes on the musicians. "It takes one to know one."
Radev smiled. "Touché, my beautiful friend."
Brian felt his phone vibrate in his inside pocket. "Excuse me." He turned away and took out the cell. But it wasn't Justin. It was Michael. Probably giving Brian an update on how Ben and Hunter were doing. Or else wanting to ream him out for missing Christmas. He let it go to voicemail. He'd deal with Mikey tomorrow.
"Your lover?" Radev was right next to him.
"No. My oldest friend. I'll call him back later."
"It is difficult to be far from home and family on the holidays." Radev took a French cigarette from his case. He offered one to Brian, but Brian declined.
"It's no problem. I'm used to being alone," Brian stated. And it had always been true. He was used to solitude. And he had always pretended that he liked it. The Lone Wolf. Always walking his own way, on his own terms. Brian Kinney, who didn't need anyone else to survive. Who never let another heart touch his own.
Except it was a lie. A lie that was more obvious every day he was away from home. And away from Justin.
Brian walked away from Radev. He didn't need to deal with his bullshit tonight, even if he was the client. He eyed one of the waiters, a dark-haired, blue-eyed specimen with a sullen pout. Brian needed something quick and easy. Something to make him forget he was lonely. To forget it was Christmas Eve and there was somewhere else he'd rather be.
The cell began to vibrate again. It felt like an urgent bee next to his heart. He took the Razr out and looked at it. Mikey again. He really must want to talk. But this wasn't the time or the place. Brian shoved it back into his jacket.
He looked around, but didn't see the pouty waiter. It didn't matter -- he didn't matter. Guys like the waiter were like buses -- another would come by in a few minutes. The only thing that mattered was the ride.
Brian made a circle around the room, making certain that every station was going smoothly. Bar. Food. Music. Servers circulating. He even checked the men's room to see if there was any activity in there holding up the line. Ordinarily he'd be the one holding up the line, but tonight things needed to move along. This wasn't Babylon. Or Inferno. This was a classy party. He didn't mind guys hooking up, but this wasn't the place for sex in the toilets.
Jesus, thought Brian. Look at me! Now I'm the fucking sex police. Forget that shit!
He went to get another drink. Another double Absolut, straight up.
"Brian," said Tony Conway, touching his shoulder. "There's a call for you in the hotel office."
Brian set down his glass. "A call?"
"Yes." Tony's face was serious. "It's from a Michael Novotny in Pittsburgh. He says it's an emergency."
Brian swallowed. "Shit," he whispered. And then he went to take the call.
***