"Midnight Clear" 40
Allegheny General Hospital.
By Gaedhal
Pittsburgh, December 2005
Brian tried to sleep on the plane, but it was useless.
The steward, a sandy-haired gym bunny in a trim blue uniform, turned down the seats and made up a bed. Then he brought Brian some herbal tea with a shot of whiskey on the side. He drank it, but it only took the edge off his anxiety. What he wanted was something to destroy it, to annihilate it, to drive it into oblivion. To drive him into oblivion. He only knew of one thing that would do that to the extent he needed it, and there was no China White on Stefan Radev's private jet.
It's just as well, thought Brian. The last thing I need is to fuck myself up completely. To stumble up to Justin's bedside stoned out of my mind. That would be a good one, Kinney.
A good one.
The steward, whose name, improbably enough, was Felix, hovered around, offering various services, until Brian, who wasn't in any mood for his attentions, rolled over and pretended to go to sleep.
Pretending. He'd been doing that a lot lately.
What the fuck was he going to do? Michael had been maddeningly vague about what exactly had happened to Justin. He'd been on his way home from the Watermark and stopped at the diner. But then something happened to him after he left there. He'd been attacked, but Brian wasn't certain if that had taken place on Liberty Avenue or somewhere else. The connection had been miserable and Michael's voice kept breaking up.
But one thing was clear...
"Hurry!" Michael said.
Hurry!
What did that mean? Only one thing, as far as Brian was concerned. Justin was hurt. And it was bad. Very, very bad.
Brian sat up. The cabin was dim and the only sound was the hum of the engines.
"Is there anything you want, Mr. Kinney?" Felix was right there, his face full of concern.
"No," said Brian, rubbing his burning eyes. "How long before we get to Pittsburgh?"
"At least another two hours, depending on the weather. Can I get you something to eat? Or more herbal tea?"
Yeah, a bottle of Jack Daniels, a hit of smack, suck my dick.
"No, really. Thanks. I'm fine."
But I'm not fine. You can't give me what I really want.
Justin.
Brian lay in the bed and stared up at the ceiling of the jet. He closed his eyes. The next thing he knew, the plane was about to land.
***
As Radev had promised, a car and driver were waiting for Brian at the airport. The driver opened the door and he got into the backseat. He realized that he had no luggage. He didn't even have a topcoat. Everything was still in his room at The Maxim. But it didn't matter. Nothing else mattered.
The car took him directly to Allegheny General.
The first person he saw when he walked into the lobby was Michael, who was coming out of the gift shop with a newspaper in his hand.
"Brian! I can't believe you got here so fast!" Michael put his arms around his friend and held him tightly.
"How's Justin? What floor is he on?"
Michael bit his lip. "He's in the ICU. Last report said he was stable, whatever that means."
"Is he conscious? How badly is he injured? What do the doctors say?"
Michael shook his head. "I don't know, Brian. I can't tell you any more."
Brian stared at Michael in disbelief. "What the fuck do you mean, you don't know?"
"His father," Michael explained. "He won't let us see Justin. He's given orders that no one can see him except members of the immediate family. They wouldn't even let Ma in. She's up in a waiting room, but that's as close as we can get." Michael paused. "Craig Taylor left special orders that you weren't to be allowed anywhere near Justin. I'm sorry."
"What about Jennifer?" Brian asked. "Justin's mother wouldn't stop us from seeing him!"
"I haven't seen her," said Michael. "She's probably in the ICU, at Justin's bedside. But it's her husband who's calling the shots. And he won't let you in. Period!"
"But I have to see him!" Brian's mind was racing. "This is total bullshit! I'm his partner!"
"According to the laws of Family Friendly Pittsburgh, you aren't anyone," Michael reminded him. "None of us are anyone."
"But Justin could be... he could be dying." Brian's voice fell to a hoarse whisper. "I have to be there with him!"
"There's nothing you can do!" Michael asserted. "Ma tried everything. Justin's father threatened to have her arrested!"
"Fuck!" Brian cried. A security guard looked over at the pair and frowned. "Where's Carl? Can't he do anything?"
"He's out with the cops, looking for the guy who did this."
"Who was it?" Brian demanded. "Who were the fuckers who did it?"
"I don't know," said Michael. "But Carl saw the guy. It was either chase him or help Justin. So he called for back-up and stayed with Justin until the ambulance arrived. But he told Ma he recognized the guy. He said they'd get him."
Brian's head was pounding. Carl recognized him. Who was it? Who would do such a thing? "Where did it happen?"
Michael took a deep breath. "Right outside the diner. In that little alley where the dumpster is. The guy must have grabbed Justin and taken him back there. He hit him with something. He beat him pretty badly. Carl said that... that Justin was covered with blood."
"Christ!" Brian cried. "I have to get up there and see him! Now!"
Michael took Brian by the shoulders. "I already told you! They won't let you in! They won't let any of us in!"
"I don't give a fuck what they say!" Brian pushed Michael away and headed toward the elevators. "I'm going up there! And I'm going to see Justin! Let them try and stop me!"
***
By Gaedhal
Pittsburgh, December 2005
Brian tried to sleep on the plane, but it was useless.
The steward, a sandy-haired gym bunny in a trim blue uniform, turned down the seats and made up a bed. Then he brought Brian some herbal tea with a shot of whiskey on the side. He drank it, but it only took the edge off his anxiety. What he wanted was something to destroy it, to annihilate it, to drive it into oblivion. To drive him into oblivion. He only knew of one thing that would do that to the extent he needed it, and there was no China White on Stefan Radev's private jet.
It's just as well, thought Brian. The last thing I need is to fuck myself up completely. To stumble up to Justin's bedside stoned out of my mind. That would be a good one, Kinney.
A good one.
The steward, whose name, improbably enough, was Felix, hovered around, offering various services, until Brian, who wasn't in any mood for his attentions, rolled over and pretended to go to sleep.
Pretending. He'd been doing that a lot lately.
What the fuck was he going to do? Michael had been maddeningly vague about what exactly had happened to Justin. He'd been on his way home from the Watermark and stopped at the diner. But then something happened to him after he left there. He'd been attacked, but Brian wasn't certain if that had taken place on Liberty Avenue or somewhere else. The connection had been miserable and Michael's voice kept breaking up.
But one thing was clear...
"Hurry!" Michael said.
Hurry!
What did that mean? Only one thing, as far as Brian was concerned. Justin was hurt. And it was bad. Very, very bad.
Brian sat up. The cabin was dim and the only sound was the hum of the engines.
"Is there anything you want, Mr. Kinney?" Felix was right there, his face full of concern.
"No," said Brian, rubbing his burning eyes. "How long before we get to Pittsburgh?"
"At least another two hours, depending on the weather. Can I get you something to eat? Or more herbal tea?"
Yeah, a bottle of Jack Daniels, a hit of smack, suck my dick.
"No, really. Thanks. I'm fine."
But I'm not fine. You can't give me what I really want.
Justin.
Brian lay in the bed and stared up at the ceiling of the jet. He closed his eyes. The next thing he knew, the plane was about to land.
***
As Radev had promised, a car and driver were waiting for Brian at the airport. The driver opened the door and he got into the backseat. He realized that he had no luggage. He didn't even have a topcoat. Everything was still in his room at The Maxim. But it didn't matter. Nothing else mattered.
The car took him directly to Allegheny General.
The first person he saw when he walked into the lobby was Michael, who was coming out of the gift shop with a newspaper in his hand.
"Brian! I can't believe you got here so fast!" Michael put his arms around his friend and held him tightly.
"How's Justin? What floor is he on?"
Michael bit his lip. "He's in the ICU. Last report said he was stable, whatever that means."
"Is he conscious? How badly is he injured? What do the doctors say?"
Michael shook his head. "I don't know, Brian. I can't tell you any more."
Brian stared at Michael in disbelief. "What the fuck do you mean, you don't know?"
"His father," Michael explained. "He won't let us see Justin. He's given orders that no one can see him except members of the immediate family. They wouldn't even let Ma in. She's up in a waiting room, but that's as close as we can get." Michael paused. "Craig Taylor left special orders that you weren't to be allowed anywhere near Justin. I'm sorry."
"What about Jennifer?" Brian asked. "Justin's mother wouldn't stop us from seeing him!"
"I haven't seen her," said Michael. "She's probably in the ICU, at Justin's bedside. But it's her husband who's calling the shots. And he won't let you in. Period!"
"But I have to see him!" Brian's mind was racing. "This is total bullshit! I'm his partner!"
"According to the laws of Family Friendly Pittsburgh, you aren't anyone," Michael reminded him. "None of us are anyone."
"But Justin could be... he could be dying." Brian's voice fell to a hoarse whisper. "I have to be there with him!"
"There's nothing you can do!" Michael asserted. "Ma tried everything. Justin's father threatened to have her arrested!"
"Fuck!" Brian cried. A security guard looked over at the pair and frowned. "Where's Carl? Can't he do anything?"
"He's out with the cops, looking for the guy who did this."
"Who was it?" Brian demanded. "Who were the fuckers who did it?"
"I don't know," said Michael. "But Carl saw the guy. It was either chase him or help Justin. So he called for back-up and stayed with Justin until the ambulance arrived. But he told Ma he recognized the guy. He said they'd get him."
Brian's head was pounding. Carl recognized him. Who was it? Who would do such a thing? "Where did it happen?"
Michael took a deep breath. "Right outside the diner. In that little alley where the dumpster is. The guy must have grabbed Justin and taken him back there. He hit him with something. He beat him pretty badly. Carl said that... that Justin was covered with blood."
"Christ!" Brian cried. "I have to get up there and see him! Now!"
Michael took Brian by the shoulders. "I already told you! They won't let you in! They won't let any of us in!"
"I don't give a fuck what they say!" Brian pushed Michael away and headed toward the elevators. "I'm going up there! And I'm going to see Justin! Let them try and stop me!"
***