Breakneck (13/18)
Title: Breakneck
Author: methylethyl
Rating: NC-17
Summary: Justin watches the last vestiges of support crumble beneath his feet, sending him into freefall. He can only close his eyes and pray he’ll land somewhere soft.
Disclaimer: QAF & Co. does not belong to me.
Breakneck
Chapter 13: Weightless
"One day, grasshopper," Brian said, stroking my hair. "One day you'll get it all in there."
I was on my back, gasping for air and dizzy, my own cum dribbling down my chin. Brian was fucking ruthless as an auto-fellatio coach. Several of my vertebrae felt as if they had been disconnected from my spinal cord.
"But it was fucking hot," Brian whispered into my ear.
I grinned despite myself. "Yeah."
I lay there in silence for a few more minutes, recovering, the sweat drying on my face and making it cool. Brian was half-sprawled on top of me, feet hanging off the end of the bed, chest pushing against mine with every even breath he took. I knew it was coming, though. He said it, without fail, every single time the excitement of sex wore off. I could see it building, and I knew it would be any second, now. He wasn't having sex and had the time to think about it, it had to be coming any-
"This bed is too fucking small," Brian griped, shifting and trying to move off of me as much as possible, without any significant success.
I sighed.
Brian pushed at my shoulder. "Move over."
I obliged, moving the whole three inches that I had to spare, which seemed to appease Brian.
"Just think of how much bigger your bed will seem, when you fuck me in it on Saturday!" I pointed out brightly, turning my head and flashing him a smile.
Brian raised his eyebrows. "I'm doing what on Saturday night?"
"Me, of course," I said, elbowing him. "I told you I'm going out to Babylon, remember? To celebrate the end of my SATs?"
"And I'm sure you'll find many a lovely boy in the backroom to celebrate with," Brian replied.
I rolled my eyes. "Well, yeah. But after them. You're going to take me home and fuck me, aren't you?"
"I fucked you tonight," was Brian's response.
"In a tiny little twin bed, with my son and your surrogate mother downstairs," I said dryly.
Brian shrugged.
"Besides," I went on, pushing myself up on my elbows and looking down at him with a dirty grin. "You promised you'd teach me how to use all the things in your sex toy cupboard. The only thing in there I recognized were the dildos, and I haven't even used one of those before."
"I'll buy you one for Christmas."
"Please?"
Brian's expression became irritated. "Look, if you turn up on Saturday night and I don't see anyone else I want, I'll take you home, all right?"
I was struck by sudden inspiration.
"I know!" I said, pushing myself all the way up and sitting cross-legged on the bed, bouncing excitedly. "I've been reading about butt plugs! You're supposed to leave it in for a few hours, right? And it stretches you and rubs on your prostate and stuff?"
Brian blinked. "Where the hell do you read about butt plugs?"
"You could put a butt plug in me before we go," I said, ignoring him. "And then we could go to Babylon, and I could fuck some other guys-with your butt plug in me-and then-"
"Oh, trust me," Brian snorted, "if you've got a butt plug in, you won't be fucking other guys. You'll be lucky if you can dance without creaming your pants."
I blew out an impatient breath. "Fine, then. I'll just dance. And if I'm coming all night in Babylon, think about how much longer I'll last when you fuck me back at the loft!"
Brian closed his eyes, grunting.
"I might even last longer than you," I teased.
"Oh, right," Brian laughed. He cracked his eyes open. "That's not gonna happen. I never come first."
I nodded reasonably. "Though I think that's more a product of your advanced age, rather than your supreme-oof!"
I had been shoved back down onto the bed. Brian loomed over me, a mad glint in his eye.
"A product of my what?" Brian demanded, finger poking my side where he knew I was ticklish.
I squealed and tried to curl up, but Brian was too good.
"Age! It's perfectly-it's natural!" I insisted, as Brian continued to tickle me relentlessly. "Failing levels of-Brian!-testosterone and low potassium-this is for your own-Brian, please, stop! Brian!"
"Take it back."
"Okay, okay!" I giggled helplessly, squirming and trying to get away from Brian's fingers. "I take it back!"
Brian stopped, smirking. "You give in way too easily."
I uncurled, breathless and grinning. "You know you use two different sets of nerves to erect the penis, depending on what the stimulation is?"
Brian groaned. "Justin, if I wanted to fuck a medical encyclopedia, I would have fucked Dr. Dave."
"Speaking of him…"
Brian flopped down on the bed, mostly not on top of me. "Why would we want to?"
"When was the last time you talked to Michael?" I asked, turning my head on the pillow to look at him.
"I have no reason to talk to Michael," Brian replied easily.
"Bullshit. You're still his best friend."
"No, I'm not."
"He loves you."
"No, he doesn't. Not anymore. The rose-colored glasses have at last come off, and Mikey's been living happily ever after since."
"But he doesn't even realize what you did for him!"
Brian rolled his eyes, but I saw the flash of pain behind it. "It's Mikey. Of course he doesn't."
"Then you should tell him." I rolled over on my stomach, putting half of myself on top of Brian in the small bed. "Brian, I know you miss him."
"I miss having a designated driver, that's all," Brian said, but he averted his eyes.
"Admit it," I said, glaring at him. "Admit that you miss him."
"I don't fucking miss him."
"You do!"
Brian pushed himself up. "I'm leaving."
Shit.
"He misses you!" I threw out desperately. "He comes over here, and he misses you a lot, Brian. He misses his best friend."
Brian glanced back at me, and I knew that he knew I was lying. I wasn't very good at it.
He scowled at me. "Just stay the fuck out of it, all right? I don't want your help, and I sure as fuck don't need it."
I don't know why I was so desperate to help Brian get Mikey back-Mikey hated me, and reuniting him with Brian would mean that Brian would stop coming over to fuck me all the time. It completely went against my Get Brian to Love Me (Or At Least Be My Sort-of Boyfriend) Plan.
But Brian was hurting over this. He needed Mikey.
"Will you come over this week?" I asked, resigning myself to the fact that the conversation about Michael was over, and that Brian was really leaving. He was already half-dressed. I spotted my underwear near the foot of the bed, and leaned over to collect them.
"Won't you be busy studying?" Brian shot back.
"It's been clinically proven that sexual activity positively impacts a person's academic performance," I said smartly. I'd gotten my underwear on, and I moved to collect my jeans from the floor.
Brian, wrestling with his shirt, paused to give me a disbelieving look.
"It's true!" I protested. "I swear."
"Right."
"Come over at least once before Saturday," I said.
"We'll see," Brian said.
I sighed, knowing it was the best that I was going to get out of him. Then I followed him downstairs, gave him a very intense kiss goodbye (which Vic appreciated a little too vocally), and then tried and failed to convince him to kiss Luke good bye, too.
"He'll do it one day," I told Vic, as the Jeep's headlights flashed across the living room.
Vic gave me an appraising look. "You know, he just might."
*
As the next morning was Sunday, Luke and I came downstairs to Vic manning the waffle iron and Debbie turning bacon over the stove. It was only eight in the morning, but they were singing a cheerful and terribly harmonized rendition of "Paper Moon" that made me grin as I came into the kitchen. Last week, I had come home from school to find the two of them doing a fairly awful foxtrot in the living room, but now I wasn't sure whether it was their dancing or their singing that needed the most improvement.
Then Debbie caught sight of me and dropped out, leaving Vic alone on a rather high "penny arcade" (which he quickly cut off).
"Well good morning, busboy," she said, raising an eyebrow at me.
My eyes widened. "I got the job!"
"Of course you got the job, you little shit!" Debbie exclaimed. "Why didn't you tell me you were applying? I don't even know why you need a job, you've got enough going on as it is!"
"I wanted to get it on my own," I explained. "I told them on the application that I could only work weekends while I was in school, and Vic said that he could watch Luke for me."
Said baby was fussing in my arms, and I deposited him into the high chair.
"You knew?" Debbie asked, whirling on Vic.
Vic shrugged. "Sure."
Debbie put her hands on her hips, turning back to me. "Well, what do you need a job for, anyway? My little asshole of a son hasn't been going on about you being some kind of freeloader, has he?"
"No," I said quickly, shaking my head vigorously, although Michael had been saying nothing but since I'd moved in last month. "I just need money for Luke. I know that Mom's been helping out with groceries and diapers and stuff, but he needs clothes. Toys. Christmas is coming up and I want him to have a really special first Christmas."
"Honey, I'm sure your parents-"
"I'm not asking them for more money," I interrupted, before she could even suggest it. "Besides, I need to save money for other things-car insurance, stuff for me… you know. And I can't live here forever."
"You can stay here as long as you need to!"
Vic had abandoned the waffle iron to stand behind Debbie a few moments ago, and now he placed a hand on her shoulder. "He knows that, Sis. I told him. But c'mon, would you want to live with two old fuddy-duddies like us?"
"No, I love living here!" I protested immediately. "I just-I want Luke to be raised in a place that's ours." And I wanted him to have his own room so that Brian could come over and fuck me after Luke went to bed, but I didn't add that in.
"Well, you're staying here until you graduate, at least," Debbie declared, pointing her tongs at me.
I opened my mouth to agree.
"No arguing!" Debbie waved the tongs threateningly-until the stove caught her attention, and she spun around. "Shit! The bacon!"
I exchanged a look with Vic, who had been filled in on my entire plan and therefore knew that I hadn't been about to argue. Vic gave a slight shrug. Deciding to let it go, I smiled and moved over to the fridge to retrieve a cup of yogurt for Luke. I'd been slowly increasing the amount of dairy in his diet, and he'd been responding well so far.
"Only a little black!" Debbie announced. "I think it's okay."
"Waffles are good to go," Vic added, setting a plate on the table.
I grabbed a bottle of pre-mixed formula out of the fridge, too, and the box of Cheerios off the top of the fridge.
"Don't forget, there's a PFLAG spaghetti dinner next Saturday," Debbie announced. "Vic, you're gonna come help me cook."
"I'll try to keep a clear schedule," Vic said dryly, as I set Luke's breakfast on the table. "What are you up to today, kiddo?"
Luke, recognizing the box of Cheerios, began reaching for it excitedly, babbling away.
"Studying," I replied with a gloomy sigh. "I don't know why I thought it would be a good idea to take my SATs with my finals. I'm starting to have dreams where everyone is speaking to me in multiple choice format."
"Well don't over-study, okay? There's only so many times you can read the same shit over and over," Vic advised.
"Besides, you're a fuckin' genius. Wouldn't surprise me if you got a perfect score!" Debbie said, ruffling my hair.
Dumping a handful of Cheerios on Luke's high chair, I shook my head. "Probably not a perfect score. But my practice tests are putting me at 1550, so we'll see."
"1550's good?" Debbie asked.
I nodded as I pulled a waffle onto my plate. "Yeah. 1600 is perfect."
The phone rang.
"That had better not be the fucking diner," Debbie muttered, putting down her fork and pushing herself up out of her chair. "I'm already working a double tonight and I worked late last night, they've got to let me rest some time…"
I cut into my waffles and accepted the syrup that Vic passed me.
"Hello?" Debbie answered.
I peeled back the lid of the yogurt and got a small spoonful of it, then reached over, pulling down Luke's hands that were about to stuff another Cheerio into his mouth.
"Oh! Yeah, we just sat down for breakfast-bacon got a little burnt, but I just think it adds flavor, you know? Here-Justin?"
I looked up in surprise.
Debbie grinned. "It's your mom."
My smile dropped instantly.
Mom? What did she want?
"Sure," I said, swallowing. I set down the spoon and let Luke go back to his Cheerios as Debbie handed me the phone. "Hi, Mom."
"Hi, sweetheart," Mom said, sounding happy. "How are you?"
"Fine," I answered. Then, not planning to go through five minutes of pleasant chatter before she felt it polite to come out and say whatever it was that she had to say, I cut to the chase. "What did you want?"
There was a pause of startled silence before Mom spoke. "Justin-there's a lawyer here to talk to you."
"A lawyer?" I repeated, while trying to push down on my reflexive panic. "Why? What does he want?"
"She," Mom corrected, like I actually cared. "She's here on behalf of Mr. Anderson, and she needs to talk to you. Something about his will."
Oh, shit. His will.
There went my plan to forget all about Cal fucking Anderson. What did I have to do with his will, anyway? Surely he wouldn't have left me anything.
"Can you come over so we can talk about this? She drove here specifically to see you, and she probably doesn't have a lot of free time on her hands," Mom said, and even through the fog of despair that had been accumulating around me, I could hear her subtly suggesting that I shouldn't act like an ungrateful brat here.
"Sure," I said tonelessly.
"I'll make you some pancakes, how about that?" Mom offered hopefully. "And we've got orange juice-the kind you like, with no pulp."
"I already ate breakfast, thanks."
"Oh… All right."
I blinked, forcing myself back to reality. "Right. I'll be over in about fifteen minutes."
"Is someone around to babysit Luke?" Mom asked.
"I thought I would just bring him with me," I said slowly, trying to keep the sudden anger at bay. "It is his dead grandfather we're talking about, after all."
"I don't think a baby would be appropriate for this meeting, Justin," Mom replied with a hint of severity.
"You mean you're afraid that a neighbor will see that your fuck-up of a son still has his kid?" I demanded furiously. "Or, what, this lawyer is a friend of Dad's and he wants to impress her? Does she belong to the country club, too?"
Vic and Debbie were both staring at me.
Over the line, Mom sighed. "Justin-"
"I'm bringing my son with me," I hissed. "And you can damn well live with it."
I hung up before she could reply.
*
I showed up at the house twenty minutes later, diaper bag over my shoulder and Luke in his carrier in my hand. He was pushing at the buckles as best he could with his little mittens on, but he wasn't agitated about it-yet. I suspected that the day he started walking would also be the last day of the carrier. But thankfully, we still had another month or so before he was supposed to start walking.
Mom opened the door, but did not smile at me. She studied me for a moment with an almost pained look on her face, but just stepped aside to let me into the house.
"Justin!" Molly yelled, pounding down the stairs and stopping just short of me. She stared at Luke, and wrinkled her nose. "Oh. I thought maybe he wouldn't be a baby anymore. Lame-o."
"Molly, go get dressed and brush your teeth," Mom said, giving her a gentle push in the direction of the stairs.
I slid out of my shoes and set Luke and the diaper bag on the ground so that I could take off my jacket. There had to be six inches of snow on the ground, and both Luke and I were tightly bundled against the cold. Debbie had gone so far as to insist that I wear one of her hats, an obnoxious pink knitted thing with a pom-pom on the top, because I didn't have one of my own.
"We're in the sitting room," Mom told me quietly. "Can I get you anything to drink?"
Like this was some kind of dinner party. Right.
"No thanks," I said shortly, hanging up my coat.
In the sitting room, Dad and a woman who I presumed to be the lawyer were waiting for me. The lawyer was in her forties, and wore a freshly-pressed suit that sharply contrasted with her beaten-down, tired face. She rose at my entrance.
"You must be Justin?"
I nodded.
"Pamela Fields. Call me Pam," she introduced herself, reaching out and shaking my hand. Her eyes went down to Luke in his carrier. "And this must be the man of the hour, Mr. Luke Taylor."
"Man of the hour?" I echoed, frowning.
Mom was at my side before Pam could answer. "Justin, honey, why don't you let me take Luke into the kitchen-"
"He's staying with me," I interrupted, my voice flat.
There was a tense silence.
"Why don't we sit down?" Mom suggested hesitantly.
"Do my parents have to be here for this?" I asked.
Pam's eyebrows rose. "Well. No, I suppose they don't. Legally, the only person I need to speak to is your son-and since he can't do a whole lot of talking yet, I need to speak to you on his behalf. Would you like your parents to leave?"
"Young man, if you think-"
"Yes," I said, interrupting my father.
"Oh, for heaven's sake," Mom said, bringing a hand up to her eyes. "Justin, we're not the enemy, and moreover, you don't know the first thing about inheritance laws. Let me at least stay in case you have questions."
"I'm sure Pam can answer them."
Mom looked to Dad despairingly. "Craig…"
"Justin," Dad said, leaning forward. "You need to have an experienced-"
"I want them out," I told Pam.
Pam raised her eyebrows at my parents.
Grudgingly, they left. I didn't feel pleased, exactly, but then again, I wasn't focused on my emotions too much anyway. I was more worried about what the lawyer could have to say. She'd said that this was really about Luke, and Mom had mentioned inheritance… Had Cal left money behind for Luke? Had he planned his suicide that far in advance?
The thought made me sick.
"So, Justin-I'm not sure what your mother told you over the phone, so I'll just fill you in on the whole situation, all right?" Pam said.
I nodded, sitting down on the sofa across from her. I unbuckled Luke's straps and lifted him up, pulling off his little green alien hat and mittens first. He was due for his morning nap in about an hour-which would be another disadvantage of losing the carrier. No instant bed for him to take naps in, when we were out.
"So, as you know, Cal Anderson passed away last week, and so-"
"He shot himself," I interrupted.
Pam paused. "Yes. Right, he shot himself. But he left behind an out-of-date will, which I and the executioner of his will have been in the process of fixing."
"What do you mean, out-of-date?" I asked. Luke was finally out of his winter clothes, and I settled him on my knee, bouncing him a little.
"Mr. Anderson had set his daughter to inherit everything," Pam explained.
Oh.
"So, what, Luke inherits it by default?" I asked. "Is that what happens?"
"In this case, yes. The money goes to the next of kin, which is your son."
"Oh," I said, a torrent of questions running through my mind. "So-does it go into a trust for Luke, then? When will he get access to it? I didn't know that Cal had that much money to bequeath."
Especially since he'd spent the last few months drinking his soul away, the bastard.
"I have the papers here," Pam said, reaching for her briefcase. "You're not inheriting millions or anything, but Mr. Anderson did have a sizable life insurance policy. And should you choose to sell the house, I imagine that would bring in a fair bit of money as well."
Sell the house? Life insurance policies?
I started to feel a rise of despair, but I fought it down. I was still moving forward. I could deal with this.
"In answer to your initial questions," Pam went on, while she flipped through various papers, "it doesn't go into a trust for Luke that he'll inherit when he comes of age. Because you're his father, you'll be appointed as guardian over the money, and you can spend it as you wish, though the general idea is that you're supposed to spend it on the child. But, of course, you're not of age either, which presents us with another probl-ah! Here we go. Look over this, and we'll talk about your appointment in a minute."
I took the piece of paper from her and, upon first glance, only saw nonsensical legal speak. The second glance wasn't much better. The third glance, I started to figure a few things out. That… must be bank accounts. CDs, savings, checking. The last appraisal of the house's worth. The last appraisal for Cal's car. Life insurance policy.
I did some fast adding in my head.
Holy shit.
"This… this is over four hundred thousand dollars," I choked out.
Luke grabbed at the paper, but I lifted it out of his reach. My eyes went to Pam.
"All of it… it goes to us?"
"Yes, it does," Pam said, nodding. "With one minor catch."
I swallowed, and handed the paper back to her. "What is it?"
"Well, as you're not eighteen yet, you can't be appointed as guardian of the money. We'll need a guardian for you until your eighteenth birthday-which is when, by the way? Soon, I hope?"
I nodded quickly. "March. But-but my parents… They can't be in charge of the money. They can't. I don't know what bullshit they told you, but I'm disowned in everything but the paperwork. They can't-there's not some law that requires it to be them, right?"
"No, it doesn't have to be your parents," Pam assured me. "In your case, I think the courts will allow you to select your own guardian."
Well, that was okay.
But…
Christ.
Jesus Christ.
This changed everything. The plan that I'd latched onto with such ferocity this past week was now pretty much rendered needless. With that kind of money… I could afford to live on my own and go to college. I could even use the money to go to art school and become an artist, like I'd always wanted.
But it was Luke's money. I couldn't blow it on art school, when I could still probably get a full ride to a regular college in Pittsburg.
But… art school.
And who was I going to pick as temporary guardian of Luke's inheritance?
I swallowed and pulled Luke closer to me, thousands more questions running through my mind. I knew that Pam wouldn't be able to answer any of them.
*
"You look cheerful," Vic commented, when I finally returned to the house.
I nodded, fighting back tears and clutching Luke close to me, and bounded upstairs.
Vic let me be.
*
"Holy shit," was Daphne's hushed response, when I relayed to her what had happened, later that night. "Whoa. Justin, you're rich. This is great!"
"It's not me. Luke is rich," I reminded her tensely.
"Yeah, but it's the same thing."
"It's not the same. It's Luke's money," I stressed. Lying on my back on my bed, I reached up and ran a hand through my hair. "I shouldn't spend it. It's his grandfather's final gift to him, and I should let him inherit it when he turns eighteen."
"Justin, it's not a gift. Cal didn't even remember that Sara was still set to inherit-and you're as good as his next of kin, anyway," Daphne argued.
I suspected that she was arguing for the money more because she wanted me to be filthy rich than because she actually understood my moral dilemma, but it was kind of a good point anyway.
"I'd like to tell Luke it was a gift," I sighed. "He doesn't need to know that his grandfather was a lousy drunk who gave up on life and shot himself."
"Oh, so you're going to lie to him?"
I sighed. "No. But…"
"Look at it this way," Daphne said, after a moment. "You want Luke to have the best possible childhood, right? You know how important it is for kids to have stable, healthy homes to grow up in. Wouldn't you consider it a great gift to Luke if he could have that without you killing yourself and shipping him off to daycare all the time? Instead of just handing him a lump of cash when he turns eighteen, and then he goes and buys something stupid like a speedboat, and crashes and dies by the time he's twenty."
"What would he do with a speedboat?" I asked. "We don't even live near a lake."
"Don't be deliberately obtuse," Daphne said, and I could hear her rolling her eyes.
"I had another thought, today," I said, changing the subject to what was bothering me more.
"Two in one day? You really are prepared for Saturday, aren't you?"
"Fuck you. This is a Serious Conversation. There are no jokes allowed."
"Or speedboats?"
"Or speedboats."
Daphne giggled. "All right, fine. What was your thought?"
The morose mood settled back in quickly.
"I… It just didn't really hit me until today that if I die, Luke doesn't have anyone. Like, I knew that it was only me and him, but I never thought about what would happen to him if I were to die."
"Justin, you're not going to die," Daphne said slowly.
"Like Sara didn't die?" I challenged. "Like Cal didn't die?"
"Sara was a freak accident, and Cal's death was of his own choosing. You know that."
"Look, I'm not saying that I think I'm going to die tomorrow," I said, trying to find a different way to explain it. "But if these last few months have taught me anything, it's how quickly people can drop out of your life. I want to know that if something happens to me, there's someone there for Luke."
"Of course there's someone there for Luke!" Daphne protested, as I knew she would. "Me!"
I was beginning to get frustrated. "Well, sure, but you're not-you can't raise him."
"And why not?" Daphne asked indignantly.
"Because you've got college, and grad school, and you don't even like kids that much," I said, trying and failing to explain why it felt so wrong to leave Luke in Daphne's care. She just didn't understand what kind of responsibility it took to raise a child. She shouldn't have to know that kind of responsibility.
"I love Luke, you know I do," Daphne said stubbornly. "And if something happened to you, I would take him in."
I gritted my teeth, willing myself not to tell her that it just wouldn't be right.
"I've got to give Luke a bath," I said instead.
"Justin-"
"I'm not mad," I promised quickly. "I just-I can't do this tonight. I'll see you tomorrow at school, okay?"
"Yeah, sure," Daphne said, after a pause. Her voice was flat. "See you tomorrow."
*
Daphne was cool toward me the following morning, and in the end I decided to spend lunch alone in the computer lab, researching inheritance and life insurance policies. In the end, though, I probably should have stuck with Daphne, despite the cold shoulder.
"Hey, faggot," Chris Hobbs said, plunking down in the chair next to me.
I eyed him warily. "Can I help you?"
"I heard your dead girlfriend's dad shot himself last week. It was in the paper this morning."
"So?" I asked carefully. My heart was pounding and my palms were sweating. What did he want? What was he going to do? We were the only two people in here, and the door was shut.
"So, why'd he do it?" Chris demanded, leaning closer. "I heard it was because he found out you're a fairy. What'd you do, Taylor? He catch you diddling his precious grandson?"
I snapped.
"Fuck you!" I snarled, lunging, but Chris easily caught me and shoved me back, pinning me to the chair.
"You like little boy penis, Taylor?" Chris asked, his voice low and his breath hot on my face. He trapped my wrists with one hand as the other snared my neck, squeezing lightly. "You like shoving your dick in their tiny little toothless mouths? You pass him around to all your little faggot friends?"
The rage was pounding inside of me so furiously I could hardly see. I pushed myself upwards, trying to escape Chris' hold on my neck, and struggled to speak. "You-seem to-know-a lot about this."
Chris slammed my neck, and my head snapped back.
"You'd better watch yourself, Taylor," he growled.
I couldn't speak. I was focusing on breathing, mostly.
"Watch yourself," Chris repeated threateningly, and then he let me go.
I gasped, my hands flying to my neck. My next instinct was to fly at him, but my movement caused a wave of dizziness that I couldn't fight through, and Chris was already out of the seat and headed out of the computer lab. There was no point in going after him. I'd never win against him in a fight, not here.
*
Brian came over that night, of course. I had mostly holed up in my room-all I had to do was mention SATs, and Debbie all but insisted that I have a mini-fridge and a porta-potty installed in my room so that I wouldn't ever have to leave. She was almost more determined for me to do well than I was. But Brian showed up, and I certainly couldn't refuse him, especially when he'd left so abruptly on Saturday.
Unfortunately, I hadn't checked out my neck in the bathroom mirror since that afternoon, and hadn't been aware of the faint lines of bruising that had appeared like wisps across my throat. Brian noticed them pretty quickly, though.
"What's this?" he asked, a finger running across my neck.
I winced slightly as his finger crossed my windpipe, which was still sore. I reached up and grabbed his hand, pulling it away. "Nothing. Just Chris Hobbs being an asshole."
"Who the hell is Chris Hobbs?" Brian demanded.
"The asshole at school-I told you about him, he's the one who keeps insinuating that I'm molesting Luke," I said impatiently.
"And attempting to strangle you, apparently." Brian's fingers returned to where the bruising must have been.
"He heard about Cal's death, and he was saying... Anyway, I kind of lost my temper. If I hadn't tried to attack him, he would never have touched me."
Brian's face twisted for a minute, then two, his fingers drifting up to rest on my jaw.
"It's fine," I said, shaking my head. I attempted a grin. "Did you come over here to fuck me or not?"
"Yeah," Brian said, seeming to give himself a little shake. "And don't think I'm going to go any easier on you just because you're injured."
I reached up to pull him down for a kiss, intended to make him forget about my neck and Chris Hobbs, when the sound of the door opening reached my ears, and a moment later I heard Michael's voice over the baby monitor.
"Why is that asshole's car parked outside?"
Brian froze.
I let out a breath, closing my eyes. Shit. What was this going to mean? I didn't know how much more drama I could handle right now.
"He's visiting Justin," Vic said mildly.
"Oh, so they go upstairs and fuck each other's brains out, and leave you with the little brat?"
I tensed, my fists clenching. How dare he call my son a brat?
Brian, who already had his hands on my upper arms, rubbed his thumb gently across my skin.
"Even parents need to have sex sometimes, kid," Vic replied, a light chuckle in his voice. "You think your ma never went out and-"
"Eugh!" Michael cried. "Uncle Vic!"
Vic laughed.
"Does he at least pay you to watch the kid?" Michael pressed.
"I never asked your ma to pay me when I watched you," Vic pointed out.
"Yeah, but that's family. You shouldn't let him freeload like this, Uncle Vic-you guys need the money, and I'm sure the little shit can afford it. Especially after all the other things you guys do for him!"
"Justin is family," Vic said firmly. "And that makes Luke family, too."
"And what's gonna happen when he decides that he wants Brian more than he wants his little brat?" Michael asked. "You can't let him take advantage of you guys-he needs to raise his own kid. You and Ma shouldn't be doing it for him."
"Fuck you!" I cried, and I tried to sit up, but Brian held me down.
"He's just upset because I'm here," Brian said quietly.
"Can your ego get any bigger?" I hissed. "It's not about you, Michael just hates me. He says shit like this all the time. And I'm not going to allow Luke to be down there with someone who hates him-that's why I left home in the first place."
I tried to get up again, and this time, Brian let me.
"Well, how much longer are they gonna be?" Michael's voice continued, through the baby monitor. "I came over to get the last of my stuff, and it's in my closet."
"You could knock on the door and ask," Vic suggested with a snicker.
"I'll just wait down here," Michael said grumpily.
I pulled a shirt down over my head and turned my gaze to Brian. "You could go hide in Vic's bedroom, and I'll tell Michael that he can come up here and get his shit?"
"What the fuck do you think I am?" Brian demanded. "I'm not hiding from Mikey like some little fairy."
"Then come downstairs with me," I persisted. I didn't want to leave Brian alone when Michael saw him. Not that Brian would ever allow me to protect him like I wanted to, but at least he wouldn't be by himself.
But Brian didn't move.
I leaned over and grabbed his hand, tugging with all my strength-which alone wouldn't have gotten Brian off the bed, but he relented and allowed me to pull him off the bed.
"Get clothes on," I said, picking his jeans up off the floor and handing them over.
Brian dressed with surprising haste, and trailed after me as I hurried downstairs.
Vic was getting Luke to coast around the coffee table by dragging his hippo along the surface, making him take shaky steps after it while gripping the edge of the coffee table. For a moment, I felt a rush of pride that Luke was almost walking-such a smart little fucker-and then I noticed Michael slouched on the couch with his back to us. At least, until he heard my footsteps down the stairs, and then his head snapped around.
"If it isn't Boy Wonder," Michael sneered. "And sidekick."
"Go up and get your shit," I said flatly, crossing into the living room.
Luke spotted me and his face lit up, completely forgetting about the hippo. "Dada!"
"What are you doing here?" Michael demanded of Brian, rising to his feet.
"Fucking Justin," Brian replied easily.
"I don't want you coming over here anymore," Michael said abruptly. "Stay out of my house, and stay away from Ma and Uncle Vic."
Brian raised an eyebrow. "It's not your house, Mikey."
"You ruin everything!" Michael exploded.
Brian's arrogant expression vanished.
"You've spent the last fourteen years abusing me and making my life a living hell! You're the most self-centered, cruel, heartless bastard I've ever met, and I can't believe that I let you poison me and my family for so long." Michael took in a great, heaving breath. "But I'm done with it, now. I'm done with you. Get out of my life."
Luke was started to make distressed noises, picking up on the tension in the room, and I quickly scooped him up before he started crying and made the situation worse.
For a moment, I thought Brian was going to argue with Michael. I certainly hoped that he would.
But he just inhaled and, slowly, nodded. "Fine."
"No!" I protested immediately.
"No one asked you," Michael snapped.
"Michael-" Vic started.
"I don't want to see you at family dinners, either," Michael called after Brian, as he walked up the stairs to get his jacket. "And you better stay out of the diner, too. And-"
"Will you shut up?" I demanded, hoisting Luke higher on my hip. "Do you even know what he's done for you? What he's given up for you?"
Michael spluttered. "What he's given up for me? I wasted fourteen years of my life being led on by him!"
"And that's your own fault, for being pathetic," I shot back as I brushed past him, heading for the stairs.
I pounded up the stairs, Luke clutching the front of my shirt and burying his face in my chest, making little whimpering sounds. I put a hand on the back of his head, rubbing gently.
"Brian?" I called when I got the top of the stairs.
He emerged from my room-Michael's room-with his jacket and shoes on.
"Don't go," I pleaded, crossing over to him. "Please don't go. Michael's just being a petty asshole, you know that Debbie and Vic love you and they know what you did for him, even if he's too stupid to realize it."
"He has every right to push me out of his life," Brian said, with a slight shrug.
"No, he doesn't!" I insisted. "You pushed him away because you love him. And you'd-you'd just let him go? Just like that?"
I was fighting against the question that I really wanted to ask. What about me? I wanted to demand. How will you see me if you don't come over to Debbie's?
But this wasn't about me, right now. It was about Brian letting Michael push him away and Brian hurting without his best friend.
"It's for his own good," Brian said at length.
"But what about your good?" I asked.
Brian smiled bitterly. "No one cares about my good."
"I do!" I protested. I took a step forward, moving my free hand from the back of Luke's head to grab the lapel on Brian's jacket, tugging gently. "I care."
Brian snorted.
Luke had calmed now that no one was yelling, and was now quite taken by the buttonhole in Brian's jacket. I pulled his hand back with a quiet, "No," and then looked up at Brian.
"Stay," I said again.
"I'll see you on Saturday," Brian told me.
"But-"
He kissed me then, one hand coming up the side of my face as his tongue pushed its way into my mouth, and if it weren't Luke in my arms I would have melted.
"Saturday," Brian repeated as he broke away. "I'll save a dance for you."
I made a slight face. "Fine. But this conversation isn't over."
Brian's fingers went to my neck, lightly tracing where I'm sure the bruises were. "You should tell someone about this."
"I told you, it's nothing," I said stubbornly, setting my jaw. "I'm capable of-no, Luke. No. That isn't for you. No."
I pulled his hand back a final time, and this time I kept it in my grip.
Brian smirked at me. "See ya."
"See ya," I echoed quietly.
I watched him walk down the stairs to leave. I knew that Michael was going to be up here soon to collect his stuff, but I didn't even want to look at him right now. I didn't want to hear him bitch about Brian and me freeloading, and making cutting remarks about what a shitty father I was.
I decided, therefore, to give Luke a bath. And I would leave the door open, so that Michael too could be treated to Luke's screams.
*
For the next four days, I existed in a haze of studying. I forced myself to forget about Cal's death, Luke's inheritance, what would happen to Luke if I died, and Brian's feud with Michael, and spent every waking moment studying for either final exams or the SAT. I even started reciting biological pathways to Luke while I changed his diapers. Both Pam and my mother called, but I didn't return their calls. I had to do well on the SAT, I had to do no less than excellent to make sure that I got that scholarship.
So I studied and forgot. The actual SAT went by in a blur, and when I got home, Luke was taking his afternoon nap. I flopped down on my bed to join him.
And that night, I headed to Brian's.
"I kicked ass today!" I announced proudly, as soon as Brian opened the door to the loft.
"I remember telling you to meet me at Babylon," Brian commented as I strode inside the loft.
I glanced over at the bed. "Doesn't look like you've got company. I was thinking you could put that butt plug in me now, and then we'd go to Babylon and I'll get really, reeeeaaaaally drunk, and then you can fuck the ever-living shit out of me as soon as we get back from Babylon."
"How about you go to Babylon without me, get really drunk, fuck a bunch of guys, and if I don't happen to see anyone else attractive by the end of the night, I'll bring you back here and fuck the ever-living shit out you?" Brian suggested.
"I like my plan better," I said.
"Well, yours isn't going to happen," Brian replied. He grabbed my shoulders and turned me around, giving me a little shove toward the door. "I have company coming over three minutes ago. And it's for business, before you ask if you can join."
I snorted. "Please. Like you do business on Saturday nights."
Just to contradict me and make me feel like an idiot, the buzzer rang then. Insolently, I reached over and pushed the button before Brian could.
Brian yanked me back against him, clapping a hand over my mouth. He leaned forward and pushed the button himself. "Yeah?"
I started licking his hand, but apparently Brian was no longer fazed by my bodily fluids, because he didn't let go.
"It's Kip," an unfamiliar voice said through the speaker.
"Come on up," Brian replied, and then he let go of the button and me, simultaneously.
"Kip? You've fucking a guy named Kip?" I demanded.
"That's none of your business."
"But it sounds like a dog."
"Scat," Brian ordered, giving me a push toward the door, "before he gets up here and thinks I'm some kind of perve."
I grinned. "But you are a perve."
Brian was not amused. "Out with you."
Only a little disgruntled and still mostly grinning, I let him push me out of the loft. The elevator was running loudly, and it was probably Brian's 'business associate'. Like I believed that.
"Take the stairs," Brian ordered, and then he shut the door behind me.
I took the first few steps down, but when I heard the elevator stop at Brian's floor, I couldn't help but turn around to see what kind of trick it was that Brian didn't want me to meet. Did he have some secret dungeon master fetish? Then again, after all the shit he'd given me after our tryst at the hospital, I didn't think that was likely.
But as I watched from the shadows of the staircase, a man in a business suit-Kip-stopped in front of Brian's door and knocked twice.
Huh. So it was business.
Kip wasn't even that hot. Not bad, but not anyone I'd want to fuck.
Shaking myself out of my thoughts, I took off down the stairs before Brian could open the door and see me standing there.
*
By the time Brian got to Babylon, I'd had three shots and been to the backroom once. Two of the shots had been from the same guy, and I was trying to squeeze another one out of him by periodically flashing my eyes in his direction as I danced. He wasn't someone that I even wanted to blow me-dressed in nigh but a pair of assless chaps, and without the ass to make them work-but I'd used a frightening percentage of my current cash pile on the cover charge, and there was no way I could afford alcohol.
Brian would buy me drinks, though. I wouldn't even have to shake my ass at him.
Well, at least not for five minutes straight. A little wiggling might be involved, but I was okay with that.
"Buy me a drink," I demanded, coming up to him just as he was handing over a ten for his own drink.
Brian turned around, raising an eyebrow. "Don't you have a fake ID?"
"Yeah, but I don't have any money," I replied. I let out a long-suffering sigh and fell back against him dramatically, throwing my head back. "I've been whoring myself out for drinks for hours. It's been exhausting."
"Just how drunk are you planning to get?" Brian asked.
"Very." I thought about for a moment, my back still flush against Brian's chest. "But not so drunk that you can't fuck me later. That's still happening."
Brian's lips suddenly latched onto my earlobe. "Trust me," he said quietly, making me shiver. "If I'm buying you drinks, I fully expect you to pay me back later."
A little thrill of excitement shot through me at his words.
"Pay you back how?" I asked slyly.
Brian slipped a hand down to cup my ass, teeth still nibbling at my ears. "Depends on how much I'm spending on you."
"Mm," I said, grinding back against him. My ears picked up the rhythm of the song currently playing, and I ground in time with the beat. "What's me riding your cock worth?"
I could feel Brian's cock stirring as my ass rubbed against his groin, and I smirked.
"Oh, that's worth at least three shots of tequila," he said, mouth hot on my ear. "Four, if you throw in a blowjob."
I grinned lazily. "Don't be silly. You don't have to buy me a shot if you want to blow me."
Brian bit down on my ear. "Twat."
I giggled, turning around to finally face him and sliding my arms around his neck. "So, buy me a shot? Then I want that dance you promised me."
Brian sighed and untangled himself from me, leaning across the counter and holding out a hand to signal the bartender.
Shouldn't Be Wearing Assless Chaps was giving me a dirty look across the bar.
I couldn't help the huge smile on my face, and not just because I was no longer squeezing drinks out of nasty old queens.
Part 14
Author: methylethyl
Rating: NC-17
Summary: Justin watches the last vestiges of support crumble beneath his feet, sending him into freefall. He can only close his eyes and pray he’ll land somewhere soft.
Disclaimer: QAF & Co. does not belong to me.
Breakneck
Chapter 13: Weightless
"One day, grasshopper," Brian said, stroking my hair. "One day you'll get it all in there."
I was on my back, gasping for air and dizzy, my own cum dribbling down my chin. Brian was fucking ruthless as an auto-fellatio coach. Several of my vertebrae felt as if they had been disconnected from my spinal cord.
"But it was fucking hot," Brian whispered into my ear.
I grinned despite myself. "Yeah."
I lay there in silence for a few more minutes, recovering, the sweat drying on my face and making it cool. Brian was half-sprawled on top of me, feet hanging off the end of the bed, chest pushing against mine with every even breath he took. I knew it was coming, though. He said it, without fail, every single time the excitement of sex wore off. I could see it building, and I knew it would be any second, now. He wasn't having sex and had the time to think about it, it had to be coming any-
"This bed is too fucking small," Brian griped, shifting and trying to move off of me as much as possible, without any significant success.
I sighed.
Brian pushed at my shoulder. "Move over."
I obliged, moving the whole three inches that I had to spare, which seemed to appease Brian.
"Just think of how much bigger your bed will seem, when you fuck me in it on Saturday!" I pointed out brightly, turning my head and flashing him a smile.
Brian raised his eyebrows. "I'm doing what on Saturday night?"
"Me, of course," I said, elbowing him. "I told you I'm going out to Babylon, remember? To celebrate the end of my SATs?"
"And I'm sure you'll find many a lovely boy in the backroom to celebrate with," Brian replied.
I rolled my eyes. "Well, yeah. But after them. You're going to take me home and fuck me, aren't you?"
"I fucked you tonight," was Brian's response.
"In a tiny little twin bed, with my son and your surrogate mother downstairs," I said dryly.
Brian shrugged.
"Besides," I went on, pushing myself up on my elbows and looking down at him with a dirty grin. "You promised you'd teach me how to use all the things in your sex toy cupboard. The only thing in there I recognized were the dildos, and I haven't even used one of those before."
"I'll buy you one for Christmas."
"Please?"
Brian's expression became irritated. "Look, if you turn up on Saturday night and I don't see anyone else I want, I'll take you home, all right?"
I was struck by sudden inspiration.
"I know!" I said, pushing myself all the way up and sitting cross-legged on the bed, bouncing excitedly. "I've been reading about butt plugs! You're supposed to leave it in for a few hours, right? And it stretches you and rubs on your prostate and stuff?"
Brian blinked. "Where the hell do you read about butt plugs?"
"You could put a butt plug in me before we go," I said, ignoring him. "And then we could go to Babylon, and I could fuck some other guys-with your butt plug in me-and then-"
"Oh, trust me," Brian snorted, "if you've got a butt plug in, you won't be fucking other guys. You'll be lucky if you can dance without creaming your pants."
I blew out an impatient breath. "Fine, then. I'll just dance. And if I'm coming all night in Babylon, think about how much longer I'll last when you fuck me back at the loft!"
Brian closed his eyes, grunting.
"I might even last longer than you," I teased.
"Oh, right," Brian laughed. He cracked his eyes open. "That's not gonna happen. I never come first."
I nodded reasonably. "Though I think that's more a product of your advanced age, rather than your supreme-oof!"
I had been shoved back down onto the bed. Brian loomed over me, a mad glint in his eye.
"A product of my what?" Brian demanded, finger poking my side where he knew I was ticklish.
I squealed and tried to curl up, but Brian was too good.
"Age! It's perfectly-it's natural!" I insisted, as Brian continued to tickle me relentlessly. "Failing levels of-Brian!-testosterone and low potassium-this is for your own-Brian, please, stop! Brian!"
"Take it back."
"Okay, okay!" I giggled helplessly, squirming and trying to get away from Brian's fingers. "I take it back!"
Brian stopped, smirking. "You give in way too easily."
I uncurled, breathless and grinning. "You know you use two different sets of nerves to erect the penis, depending on what the stimulation is?"
Brian groaned. "Justin, if I wanted to fuck a medical encyclopedia, I would have fucked Dr. Dave."
"Speaking of him…"
Brian flopped down on the bed, mostly not on top of me. "Why would we want to?"
"When was the last time you talked to Michael?" I asked, turning my head on the pillow to look at him.
"I have no reason to talk to Michael," Brian replied easily.
"Bullshit. You're still his best friend."
"No, I'm not."
"He loves you."
"No, he doesn't. Not anymore. The rose-colored glasses have at last come off, and Mikey's been living happily ever after since."
"But he doesn't even realize what you did for him!"
Brian rolled his eyes, but I saw the flash of pain behind it. "It's Mikey. Of course he doesn't."
"Then you should tell him." I rolled over on my stomach, putting half of myself on top of Brian in the small bed. "Brian, I know you miss him."
"I miss having a designated driver, that's all," Brian said, but he averted his eyes.
"Admit it," I said, glaring at him. "Admit that you miss him."
"I don't fucking miss him."
"You do!"
Brian pushed himself up. "I'm leaving."
Shit.
"He misses you!" I threw out desperately. "He comes over here, and he misses you a lot, Brian. He misses his best friend."
Brian glanced back at me, and I knew that he knew I was lying. I wasn't very good at it.
He scowled at me. "Just stay the fuck out of it, all right? I don't want your help, and I sure as fuck don't need it."
I don't know why I was so desperate to help Brian get Mikey back-Mikey hated me, and reuniting him with Brian would mean that Brian would stop coming over to fuck me all the time. It completely went against my Get Brian to Love Me (Or At Least Be My Sort-of Boyfriend) Plan.
But Brian was hurting over this. He needed Mikey.
"Will you come over this week?" I asked, resigning myself to the fact that the conversation about Michael was over, and that Brian was really leaving. He was already half-dressed. I spotted my underwear near the foot of the bed, and leaned over to collect them.
"Won't you be busy studying?" Brian shot back.
"It's been clinically proven that sexual activity positively impacts a person's academic performance," I said smartly. I'd gotten my underwear on, and I moved to collect my jeans from the floor.
Brian, wrestling with his shirt, paused to give me a disbelieving look.
"It's true!" I protested. "I swear."
"Right."
"Come over at least once before Saturday," I said.
"We'll see," Brian said.
I sighed, knowing it was the best that I was going to get out of him. Then I followed him downstairs, gave him a very intense kiss goodbye (which Vic appreciated a little too vocally), and then tried and failed to convince him to kiss Luke good bye, too.
"He'll do it one day," I told Vic, as the Jeep's headlights flashed across the living room.
Vic gave me an appraising look. "You know, he just might."
*
As the next morning was Sunday, Luke and I came downstairs to Vic manning the waffle iron and Debbie turning bacon over the stove. It was only eight in the morning, but they were singing a cheerful and terribly harmonized rendition of "Paper Moon" that made me grin as I came into the kitchen. Last week, I had come home from school to find the two of them doing a fairly awful foxtrot in the living room, but now I wasn't sure whether it was their dancing or their singing that needed the most improvement.
Then Debbie caught sight of me and dropped out, leaving Vic alone on a rather high "penny arcade" (which he quickly cut off).
"Well good morning, busboy," she said, raising an eyebrow at me.
My eyes widened. "I got the job!"
"Of course you got the job, you little shit!" Debbie exclaimed. "Why didn't you tell me you were applying? I don't even know why you need a job, you've got enough going on as it is!"
"I wanted to get it on my own," I explained. "I told them on the application that I could only work weekends while I was in school, and Vic said that he could watch Luke for me."
Said baby was fussing in my arms, and I deposited him into the high chair.
"You knew?" Debbie asked, whirling on Vic.
Vic shrugged. "Sure."
Debbie put her hands on her hips, turning back to me. "Well, what do you need a job for, anyway? My little asshole of a son hasn't been going on about you being some kind of freeloader, has he?"
"No," I said quickly, shaking my head vigorously, although Michael had been saying nothing but since I'd moved in last month. "I just need money for Luke. I know that Mom's been helping out with groceries and diapers and stuff, but he needs clothes. Toys. Christmas is coming up and I want him to have a really special first Christmas."
"Honey, I'm sure your parents-"
"I'm not asking them for more money," I interrupted, before she could even suggest it. "Besides, I need to save money for other things-car insurance, stuff for me… you know. And I can't live here forever."
"You can stay here as long as you need to!"
Vic had abandoned the waffle iron to stand behind Debbie a few moments ago, and now he placed a hand on her shoulder. "He knows that, Sis. I told him. But c'mon, would you want to live with two old fuddy-duddies like us?"
"No, I love living here!" I protested immediately. "I just-I want Luke to be raised in a place that's ours." And I wanted him to have his own room so that Brian could come over and fuck me after Luke went to bed, but I didn't add that in.
"Well, you're staying here until you graduate, at least," Debbie declared, pointing her tongs at me.
I opened my mouth to agree.
"No arguing!" Debbie waved the tongs threateningly-until the stove caught her attention, and she spun around. "Shit! The bacon!"
I exchanged a look with Vic, who had been filled in on my entire plan and therefore knew that I hadn't been about to argue. Vic gave a slight shrug. Deciding to let it go, I smiled and moved over to the fridge to retrieve a cup of yogurt for Luke. I'd been slowly increasing the amount of dairy in his diet, and he'd been responding well so far.
"Only a little black!" Debbie announced. "I think it's okay."
"Waffles are good to go," Vic added, setting a plate on the table.
I grabbed a bottle of pre-mixed formula out of the fridge, too, and the box of Cheerios off the top of the fridge.
"Don't forget, there's a PFLAG spaghetti dinner next Saturday," Debbie announced. "Vic, you're gonna come help me cook."
"I'll try to keep a clear schedule," Vic said dryly, as I set Luke's breakfast on the table. "What are you up to today, kiddo?"
Luke, recognizing the box of Cheerios, began reaching for it excitedly, babbling away.
"Studying," I replied with a gloomy sigh. "I don't know why I thought it would be a good idea to take my SATs with my finals. I'm starting to have dreams where everyone is speaking to me in multiple choice format."
"Well don't over-study, okay? There's only so many times you can read the same shit over and over," Vic advised.
"Besides, you're a fuckin' genius. Wouldn't surprise me if you got a perfect score!" Debbie said, ruffling my hair.
Dumping a handful of Cheerios on Luke's high chair, I shook my head. "Probably not a perfect score. But my practice tests are putting me at 1550, so we'll see."
"1550's good?" Debbie asked.
I nodded as I pulled a waffle onto my plate. "Yeah. 1600 is perfect."
The phone rang.
"That had better not be the fucking diner," Debbie muttered, putting down her fork and pushing herself up out of her chair. "I'm already working a double tonight and I worked late last night, they've got to let me rest some time…"
I cut into my waffles and accepted the syrup that Vic passed me.
"Hello?" Debbie answered.
I peeled back the lid of the yogurt and got a small spoonful of it, then reached over, pulling down Luke's hands that were about to stuff another Cheerio into his mouth.
"Oh! Yeah, we just sat down for breakfast-bacon got a little burnt, but I just think it adds flavor, you know? Here-Justin?"
I looked up in surprise.
Debbie grinned. "It's your mom."
My smile dropped instantly.
Mom? What did she want?
"Sure," I said, swallowing. I set down the spoon and let Luke go back to his Cheerios as Debbie handed me the phone. "Hi, Mom."
"Hi, sweetheart," Mom said, sounding happy. "How are you?"
"Fine," I answered. Then, not planning to go through five minutes of pleasant chatter before she felt it polite to come out and say whatever it was that she had to say, I cut to the chase. "What did you want?"
There was a pause of startled silence before Mom spoke. "Justin-there's a lawyer here to talk to you."
"A lawyer?" I repeated, while trying to push down on my reflexive panic. "Why? What does he want?"
"She," Mom corrected, like I actually cared. "She's here on behalf of Mr. Anderson, and she needs to talk to you. Something about his will."
Oh, shit. His will.
There went my plan to forget all about Cal fucking Anderson. What did I have to do with his will, anyway? Surely he wouldn't have left me anything.
"Can you come over so we can talk about this? She drove here specifically to see you, and she probably doesn't have a lot of free time on her hands," Mom said, and even through the fog of despair that had been accumulating around me, I could hear her subtly suggesting that I shouldn't act like an ungrateful brat here.
"Sure," I said tonelessly.
"I'll make you some pancakes, how about that?" Mom offered hopefully. "And we've got orange juice-the kind you like, with no pulp."
"I already ate breakfast, thanks."
"Oh… All right."
I blinked, forcing myself back to reality. "Right. I'll be over in about fifteen minutes."
"Is someone around to babysit Luke?" Mom asked.
"I thought I would just bring him with me," I said slowly, trying to keep the sudden anger at bay. "It is his dead grandfather we're talking about, after all."
"I don't think a baby would be appropriate for this meeting, Justin," Mom replied with a hint of severity.
"You mean you're afraid that a neighbor will see that your fuck-up of a son still has his kid?" I demanded furiously. "Or, what, this lawyer is a friend of Dad's and he wants to impress her? Does she belong to the country club, too?"
Vic and Debbie were both staring at me.
Over the line, Mom sighed. "Justin-"
"I'm bringing my son with me," I hissed. "And you can damn well live with it."
I hung up before she could reply.
*
I showed up at the house twenty minutes later, diaper bag over my shoulder and Luke in his carrier in my hand. He was pushing at the buckles as best he could with his little mittens on, but he wasn't agitated about it-yet. I suspected that the day he started walking would also be the last day of the carrier. But thankfully, we still had another month or so before he was supposed to start walking.
Mom opened the door, but did not smile at me. She studied me for a moment with an almost pained look on her face, but just stepped aside to let me into the house.
"Justin!" Molly yelled, pounding down the stairs and stopping just short of me. She stared at Luke, and wrinkled her nose. "Oh. I thought maybe he wouldn't be a baby anymore. Lame-o."
"Molly, go get dressed and brush your teeth," Mom said, giving her a gentle push in the direction of the stairs.
I slid out of my shoes and set Luke and the diaper bag on the ground so that I could take off my jacket. There had to be six inches of snow on the ground, and both Luke and I were tightly bundled against the cold. Debbie had gone so far as to insist that I wear one of her hats, an obnoxious pink knitted thing with a pom-pom on the top, because I didn't have one of my own.
"We're in the sitting room," Mom told me quietly. "Can I get you anything to drink?"
Like this was some kind of dinner party. Right.
"No thanks," I said shortly, hanging up my coat.
In the sitting room, Dad and a woman who I presumed to be the lawyer were waiting for me. The lawyer was in her forties, and wore a freshly-pressed suit that sharply contrasted with her beaten-down, tired face. She rose at my entrance.
"You must be Justin?"
I nodded.
"Pamela Fields. Call me Pam," she introduced herself, reaching out and shaking my hand. Her eyes went down to Luke in his carrier. "And this must be the man of the hour, Mr. Luke Taylor."
"Man of the hour?" I echoed, frowning.
Mom was at my side before Pam could answer. "Justin, honey, why don't you let me take Luke into the kitchen-"
"He's staying with me," I interrupted, my voice flat.
There was a tense silence.
"Why don't we sit down?" Mom suggested hesitantly.
"Do my parents have to be here for this?" I asked.
Pam's eyebrows rose. "Well. No, I suppose they don't. Legally, the only person I need to speak to is your son-and since he can't do a whole lot of talking yet, I need to speak to you on his behalf. Would you like your parents to leave?"
"Young man, if you think-"
"Yes," I said, interrupting my father.
"Oh, for heaven's sake," Mom said, bringing a hand up to her eyes. "Justin, we're not the enemy, and moreover, you don't know the first thing about inheritance laws. Let me at least stay in case you have questions."
"I'm sure Pam can answer them."
Mom looked to Dad despairingly. "Craig…"
"Justin," Dad said, leaning forward. "You need to have an experienced-"
"I want them out," I told Pam.
Pam raised her eyebrows at my parents.
Grudgingly, they left. I didn't feel pleased, exactly, but then again, I wasn't focused on my emotions too much anyway. I was more worried about what the lawyer could have to say. She'd said that this was really about Luke, and Mom had mentioned inheritance… Had Cal left money behind for Luke? Had he planned his suicide that far in advance?
The thought made me sick.
"So, Justin-I'm not sure what your mother told you over the phone, so I'll just fill you in on the whole situation, all right?" Pam said.
I nodded, sitting down on the sofa across from her. I unbuckled Luke's straps and lifted him up, pulling off his little green alien hat and mittens first. He was due for his morning nap in about an hour-which would be another disadvantage of losing the carrier. No instant bed for him to take naps in, when we were out.
"So, as you know, Cal Anderson passed away last week, and so-"
"He shot himself," I interrupted.
Pam paused. "Yes. Right, he shot himself. But he left behind an out-of-date will, which I and the executioner of his will have been in the process of fixing."
"What do you mean, out-of-date?" I asked. Luke was finally out of his winter clothes, and I settled him on my knee, bouncing him a little.
"Mr. Anderson had set his daughter to inherit everything," Pam explained.
Oh.
"So, what, Luke inherits it by default?" I asked. "Is that what happens?"
"In this case, yes. The money goes to the next of kin, which is your son."
"Oh," I said, a torrent of questions running through my mind. "So-does it go into a trust for Luke, then? When will he get access to it? I didn't know that Cal had that much money to bequeath."
Especially since he'd spent the last few months drinking his soul away, the bastard.
"I have the papers here," Pam said, reaching for her briefcase. "You're not inheriting millions or anything, but Mr. Anderson did have a sizable life insurance policy. And should you choose to sell the house, I imagine that would bring in a fair bit of money as well."
Sell the house? Life insurance policies?
I started to feel a rise of despair, but I fought it down. I was still moving forward. I could deal with this.
"In answer to your initial questions," Pam went on, while she flipped through various papers, "it doesn't go into a trust for Luke that he'll inherit when he comes of age. Because you're his father, you'll be appointed as guardian over the money, and you can spend it as you wish, though the general idea is that you're supposed to spend it on the child. But, of course, you're not of age either, which presents us with another probl-ah! Here we go. Look over this, and we'll talk about your appointment in a minute."
I took the piece of paper from her and, upon first glance, only saw nonsensical legal speak. The second glance wasn't much better. The third glance, I started to figure a few things out. That… must be bank accounts. CDs, savings, checking. The last appraisal of the house's worth. The last appraisal for Cal's car. Life insurance policy.
I did some fast adding in my head.
Holy shit.
"This… this is over four hundred thousand dollars," I choked out.
Luke grabbed at the paper, but I lifted it out of his reach. My eyes went to Pam.
"All of it… it goes to us?"
"Yes, it does," Pam said, nodding. "With one minor catch."
I swallowed, and handed the paper back to her. "What is it?"
"Well, as you're not eighteen yet, you can't be appointed as guardian of the money. We'll need a guardian for you until your eighteenth birthday-which is when, by the way? Soon, I hope?"
I nodded quickly. "March. But-but my parents… They can't be in charge of the money. They can't. I don't know what bullshit they told you, but I'm disowned in everything but the paperwork. They can't-there's not some law that requires it to be them, right?"
"No, it doesn't have to be your parents," Pam assured me. "In your case, I think the courts will allow you to select your own guardian."
Well, that was okay.
But…
Christ.
Jesus Christ.
This changed everything. The plan that I'd latched onto with such ferocity this past week was now pretty much rendered needless. With that kind of money… I could afford to live on my own and go to college. I could even use the money to go to art school and become an artist, like I'd always wanted.
But it was Luke's money. I couldn't blow it on art school, when I could still probably get a full ride to a regular college in Pittsburg.
But… art school.
And who was I going to pick as temporary guardian of Luke's inheritance?
I swallowed and pulled Luke closer to me, thousands more questions running through my mind. I knew that Pam wouldn't be able to answer any of them.
*
"You look cheerful," Vic commented, when I finally returned to the house.
I nodded, fighting back tears and clutching Luke close to me, and bounded upstairs.
Vic let me be.
*
"Holy shit," was Daphne's hushed response, when I relayed to her what had happened, later that night. "Whoa. Justin, you're rich. This is great!"
"It's not me. Luke is rich," I reminded her tensely.
"Yeah, but it's the same thing."
"It's not the same. It's Luke's money," I stressed. Lying on my back on my bed, I reached up and ran a hand through my hair. "I shouldn't spend it. It's his grandfather's final gift to him, and I should let him inherit it when he turns eighteen."
"Justin, it's not a gift. Cal didn't even remember that Sara was still set to inherit-and you're as good as his next of kin, anyway," Daphne argued.
I suspected that she was arguing for the money more because she wanted me to be filthy rich than because she actually understood my moral dilemma, but it was kind of a good point anyway.
"I'd like to tell Luke it was a gift," I sighed. "He doesn't need to know that his grandfather was a lousy drunk who gave up on life and shot himself."
"Oh, so you're going to lie to him?"
I sighed. "No. But…"
"Look at it this way," Daphne said, after a moment. "You want Luke to have the best possible childhood, right? You know how important it is for kids to have stable, healthy homes to grow up in. Wouldn't you consider it a great gift to Luke if he could have that without you killing yourself and shipping him off to daycare all the time? Instead of just handing him a lump of cash when he turns eighteen, and then he goes and buys something stupid like a speedboat, and crashes and dies by the time he's twenty."
"What would he do with a speedboat?" I asked. "We don't even live near a lake."
"Don't be deliberately obtuse," Daphne said, and I could hear her rolling her eyes.
"I had another thought, today," I said, changing the subject to what was bothering me more.
"Two in one day? You really are prepared for Saturday, aren't you?"
"Fuck you. This is a Serious Conversation. There are no jokes allowed."
"Or speedboats?"
"Or speedboats."
Daphne giggled. "All right, fine. What was your thought?"
The morose mood settled back in quickly.
"I… It just didn't really hit me until today that if I die, Luke doesn't have anyone. Like, I knew that it was only me and him, but I never thought about what would happen to him if I were to die."
"Justin, you're not going to die," Daphne said slowly.
"Like Sara didn't die?" I challenged. "Like Cal didn't die?"
"Sara was a freak accident, and Cal's death was of his own choosing. You know that."
"Look, I'm not saying that I think I'm going to die tomorrow," I said, trying to find a different way to explain it. "But if these last few months have taught me anything, it's how quickly people can drop out of your life. I want to know that if something happens to me, there's someone there for Luke."
"Of course there's someone there for Luke!" Daphne protested, as I knew she would. "Me!"
I was beginning to get frustrated. "Well, sure, but you're not-you can't raise him."
"And why not?" Daphne asked indignantly.
"Because you've got college, and grad school, and you don't even like kids that much," I said, trying and failing to explain why it felt so wrong to leave Luke in Daphne's care. She just didn't understand what kind of responsibility it took to raise a child. She shouldn't have to know that kind of responsibility.
"I love Luke, you know I do," Daphne said stubbornly. "And if something happened to you, I would take him in."
I gritted my teeth, willing myself not to tell her that it just wouldn't be right.
"I've got to give Luke a bath," I said instead.
"Justin-"
"I'm not mad," I promised quickly. "I just-I can't do this tonight. I'll see you tomorrow at school, okay?"
"Yeah, sure," Daphne said, after a pause. Her voice was flat. "See you tomorrow."
*
Daphne was cool toward me the following morning, and in the end I decided to spend lunch alone in the computer lab, researching inheritance and life insurance policies. In the end, though, I probably should have stuck with Daphne, despite the cold shoulder.
"Hey, faggot," Chris Hobbs said, plunking down in the chair next to me.
I eyed him warily. "Can I help you?"
"I heard your dead girlfriend's dad shot himself last week. It was in the paper this morning."
"So?" I asked carefully. My heart was pounding and my palms were sweating. What did he want? What was he going to do? We were the only two people in here, and the door was shut.
"So, why'd he do it?" Chris demanded, leaning closer. "I heard it was because he found out you're a fairy. What'd you do, Taylor? He catch you diddling his precious grandson?"
I snapped.
"Fuck you!" I snarled, lunging, but Chris easily caught me and shoved me back, pinning me to the chair.
"You like little boy penis, Taylor?" Chris asked, his voice low and his breath hot on my face. He trapped my wrists with one hand as the other snared my neck, squeezing lightly. "You like shoving your dick in their tiny little toothless mouths? You pass him around to all your little faggot friends?"
The rage was pounding inside of me so furiously I could hardly see. I pushed myself upwards, trying to escape Chris' hold on my neck, and struggled to speak. "You-seem to-know-a lot about this."
Chris slammed my neck, and my head snapped back.
"You'd better watch yourself, Taylor," he growled.
I couldn't speak. I was focusing on breathing, mostly.
"Watch yourself," Chris repeated threateningly, and then he let me go.
I gasped, my hands flying to my neck. My next instinct was to fly at him, but my movement caused a wave of dizziness that I couldn't fight through, and Chris was already out of the seat and headed out of the computer lab. There was no point in going after him. I'd never win against him in a fight, not here.
*
Brian came over that night, of course. I had mostly holed up in my room-all I had to do was mention SATs, and Debbie all but insisted that I have a mini-fridge and a porta-potty installed in my room so that I wouldn't ever have to leave. She was almost more determined for me to do well than I was. But Brian showed up, and I certainly couldn't refuse him, especially when he'd left so abruptly on Saturday.
Unfortunately, I hadn't checked out my neck in the bathroom mirror since that afternoon, and hadn't been aware of the faint lines of bruising that had appeared like wisps across my throat. Brian noticed them pretty quickly, though.
"What's this?" he asked, a finger running across my neck.
I winced slightly as his finger crossed my windpipe, which was still sore. I reached up and grabbed his hand, pulling it away. "Nothing. Just Chris Hobbs being an asshole."
"Who the hell is Chris Hobbs?" Brian demanded.
"The asshole at school-I told you about him, he's the one who keeps insinuating that I'm molesting Luke," I said impatiently.
"And attempting to strangle you, apparently." Brian's fingers returned to where the bruising must have been.
"He heard about Cal's death, and he was saying... Anyway, I kind of lost my temper. If I hadn't tried to attack him, he would never have touched me."
Brian's face twisted for a minute, then two, his fingers drifting up to rest on my jaw.
"It's fine," I said, shaking my head. I attempted a grin. "Did you come over here to fuck me or not?"
"Yeah," Brian said, seeming to give himself a little shake. "And don't think I'm going to go any easier on you just because you're injured."
I reached up to pull him down for a kiss, intended to make him forget about my neck and Chris Hobbs, when the sound of the door opening reached my ears, and a moment later I heard Michael's voice over the baby monitor.
"Why is that asshole's car parked outside?"
Brian froze.
I let out a breath, closing my eyes. Shit. What was this going to mean? I didn't know how much more drama I could handle right now.
"He's visiting Justin," Vic said mildly.
"Oh, so they go upstairs and fuck each other's brains out, and leave you with the little brat?"
I tensed, my fists clenching. How dare he call my son a brat?
Brian, who already had his hands on my upper arms, rubbed his thumb gently across my skin.
"Even parents need to have sex sometimes, kid," Vic replied, a light chuckle in his voice. "You think your ma never went out and-"
"Eugh!" Michael cried. "Uncle Vic!"
Vic laughed.
"Does he at least pay you to watch the kid?" Michael pressed.
"I never asked your ma to pay me when I watched you," Vic pointed out.
"Yeah, but that's family. You shouldn't let him freeload like this, Uncle Vic-you guys need the money, and I'm sure the little shit can afford it. Especially after all the other things you guys do for him!"
"Justin is family," Vic said firmly. "And that makes Luke family, too."
"And what's gonna happen when he decides that he wants Brian more than he wants his little brat?" Michael asked. "You can't let him take advantage of you guys-he needs to raise his own kid. You and Ma shouldn't be doing it for him."
"Fuck you!" I cried, and I tried to sit up, but Brian held me down.
"He's just upset because I'm here," Brian said quietly.
"Can your ego get any bigger?" I hissed. "It's not about you, Michael just hates me. He says shit like this all the time. And I'm not going to allow Luke to be down there with someone who hates him-that's why I left home in the first place."
I tried to get up again, and this time, Brian let me.
"Well, how much longer are they gonna be?" Michael's voice continued, through the baby monitor. "I came over to get the last of my stuff, and it's in my closet."
"You could knock on the door and ask," Vic suggested with a snicker.
"I'll just wait down here," Michael said grumpily.
I pulled a shirt down over my head and turned my gaze to Brian. "You could go hide in Vic's bedroom, and I'll tell Michael that he can come up here and get his shit?"
"What the fuck do you think I am?" Brian demanded. "I'm not hiding from Mikey like some little fairy."
"Then come downstairs with me," I persisted. I didn't want to leave Brian alone when Michael saw him. Not that Brian would ever allow me to protect him like I wanted to, but at least he wouldn't be by himself.
But Brian didn't move.
I leaned over and grabbed his hand, tugging with all my strength-which alone wouldn't have gotten Brian off the bed, but he relented and allowed me to pull him off the bed.
"Get clothes on," I said, picking his jeans up off the floor and handing them over.
Brian dressed with surprising haste, and trailed after me as I hurried downstairs.
Vic was getting Luke to coast around the coffee table by dragging his hippo along the surface, making him take shaky steps after it while gripping the edge of the coffee table. For a moment, I felt a rush of pride that Luke was almost walking-such a smart little fucker-and then I noticed Michael slouched on the couch with his back to us. At least, until he heard my footsteps down the stairs, and then his head snapped around.
"If it isn't Boy Wonder," Michael sneered. "And sidekick."
"Go up and get your shit," I said flatly, crossing into the living room.
Luke spotted me and his face lit up, completely forgetting about the hippo. "Dada!"
"What are you doing here?" Michael demanded of Brian, rising to his feet.
"Fucking Justin," Brian replied easily.
"I don't want you coming over here anymore," Michael said abruptly. "Stay out of my house, and stay away from Ma and Uncle Vic."
Brian raised an eyebrow. "It's not your house, Mikey."
"You ruin everything!" Michael exploded.
Brian's arrogant expression vanished.
"You've spent the last fourteen years abusing me and making my life a living hell! You're the most self-centered, cruel, heartless bastard I've ever met, and I can't believe that I let you poison me and my family for so long." Michael took in a great, heaving breath. "But I'm done with it, now. I'm done with you. Get out of my life."
Luke was started to make distressed noises, picking up on the tension in the room, and I quickly scooped him up before he started crying and made the situation worse.
For a moment, I thought Brian was going to argue with Michael. I certainly hoped that he would.
But he just inhaled and, slowly, nodded. "Fine."
"No!" I protested immediately.
"No one asked you," Michael snapped.
"Michael-" Vic started.
"I don't want to see you at family dinners, either," Michael called after Brian, as he walked up the stairs to get his jacket. "And you better stay out of the diner, too. And-"
"Will you shut up?" I demanded, hoisting Luke higher on my hip. "Do you even know what he's done for you? What he's given up for you?"
Michael spluttered. "What he's given up for me? I wasted fourteen years of my life being led on by him!"
"And that's your own fault, for being pathetic," I shot back as I brushed past him, heading for the stairs.
I pounded up the stairs, Luke clutching the front of my shirt and burying his face in my chest, making little whimpering sounds. I put a hand on the back of his head, rubbing gently.
"Brian?" I called when I got the top of the stairs.
He emerged from my room-Michael's room-with his jacket and shoes on.
"Don't go," I pleaded, crossing over to him. "Please don't go. Michael's just being a petty asshole, you know that Debbie and Vic love you and they know what you did for him, even if he's too stupid to realize it."
"He has every right to push me out of his life," Brian said, with a slight shrug.
"No, he doesn't!" I insisted. "You pushed him away because you love him. And you'd-you'd just let him go? Just like that?"
I was fighting against the question that I really wanted to ask. What about me? I wanted to demand. How will you see me if you don't come over to Debbie's?
But this wasn't about me, right now. It was about Brian letting Michael push him away and Brian hurting without his best friend.
"It's for his own good," Brian said at length.
"But what about your good?" I asked.
Brian smiled bitterly. "No one cares about my good."
"I do!" I protested. I took a step forward, moving my free hand from the back of Luke's head to grab the lapel on Brian's jacket, tugging gently. "I care."
Brian snorted.
Luke had calmed now that no one was yelling, and was now quite taken by the buttonhole in Brian's jacket. I pulled his hand back with a quiet, "No," and then looked up at Brian.
"Stay," I said again.
"I'll see you on Saturday," Brian told me.
"But-"
He kissed me then, one hand coming up the side of my face as his tongue pushed its way into my mouth, and if it weren't Luke in my arms I would have melted.
"Saturday," Brian repeated as he broke away. "I'll save a dance for you."
I made a slight face. "Fine. But this conversation isn't over."
Brian's fingers went to my neck, lightly tracing where I'm sure the bruises were. "You should tell someone about this."
"I told you, it's nothing," I said stubbornly, setting my jaw. "I'm capable of-no, Luke. No. That isn't for you. No."
I pulled his hand back a final time, and this time I kept it in my grip.
Brian smirked at me. "See ya."
"See ya," I echoed quietly.
I watched him walk down the stairs to leave. I knew that Michael was going to be up here soon to collect his stuff, but I didn't even want to look at him right now. I didn't want to hear him bitch about Brian and me freeloading, and making cutting remarks about what a shitty father I was.
I decided, therefore, to give Luke a bath. And I would leave the door open, so that Michael too could be treated to Luke's screams.
*
For the next four days, I existed in a haze of studying. I forced myself to forget about Cal's death, Luke's inheritance, what would happen to Luke if I died, and Brian's feud with Michael, and spent every waking moment studying for either final exams or the SAT. I even started reciting biological pathways to Luke while I changed his diapers. Both Pam and my mother called, but I didn't return their calls. I had to do well on the SAT, I had to do no less than excellent to make sure that I got that scholarship.
So I studied and forgot. The actual SAT went by in a blur, and when I got home, Luke was taking his afternoon nap. I flopped down on my bed to join him.
And that night, I headed to Brian's.
"I kicked ass today!" I announced proudly, as soon as Brian opened the door to the loft.
"I remember telling you to meet me at Babylon," Brian commented as I strode inside the loft.
I glanced over at the bed. "Doesn't look like you've got company. I was thinking you could put that butt plug in me now, and then we'd go to Babylon and I'll get really, reeeeaaaaally drunk, and then you can fuck the ever-living shit out of me as soon as we get back from Babylon."
"How about you go to Babylon without me, get really drunk, fuck a bunch of guys, and if I don't happen to see anyone else attractive by the end of the night, I'll bring you back here and fuck the ever-living shit out you?" Brian suggested.
"I like my plan better," I said.
"Well, yours isn't going to happen," Brian replied. He grabbed my shoulders and turned me around, giving me a little shove toward the door. "I have company coming over three minutes ago. And it's for business, before you ask if you can join."
I snorted. "Please. Like you do business on Saturday nights."
Just to contradict me and make me feel like an idiot, the buzzer rang then. Insolently, I reached over and pushed the button before Brian could.
Brian yanked me back against him, clapping a hand over my mouth. He leaned forward and pushed the button himself. "Yeah?"
I started licking his hand, but apparently Brian was no longer fazed by my bodily fluids, because he didn't let go.
"It's Kip," an unfamiliar voice said through the speaker.
"Come on up," Brian replied, and then he let go of the button and me, simultaneously.
"Kip? You've fucking a guy named Kip?" I demanded.
"That's none of your business."
"But it sounds like a dog."
"Scat," Brian ordered, giving me a push toward the door, "before he gets up here and thinks I'm some kind of perve."
I grinned. "But you are a perve."
Brian was not amused. "Out with you."
Only a little disgruntled and still mostly grinning, I let him push me out of the loft. The elevator was running loudly, and it was probably Brian's 'business associate'. Like I believed that.
"Take the stairs," Brian ordered, and then he shut the door behind me.
I took the first few steps down, but when I heard the elevator stop at Brian's floor, I couldn't help but turn around to see what kind of trick it was that Brian didn't want me to meet. Did he have some secret dungeon master fetish? Then again, after all the shit he'd given me after our tryst at the hospital, I didn't think that was likely.
But as I watched from the shadows of the staircase, a man in a business suit-Kip-stopped in front of Brian's door and knocked twice.
Huh. So it was business.
Kip wasn't even that hot. Not bad, but not anyone I'd want to fuck.
Shaking myself out of my thoughts, I took off down the stairs before Brian could open the door and see me standing there.
*
By the time Brian got to Babylon, I'd had three shots and been to the backroom once. Two of the shots had been from the same guy, and I was trying to squeeze another one out of him by periodically flashing my eyes in his direction as I danced. He wasn't someone that I even wanted to blow me-dressed in nigh but a pair of assless chaps, and without the ass to make them work-but I'd used a frightening percentage of my current cash pile on the cover charge, and there was no way I could afford alcohol.
Brian would buy me drinks, though. I wouldn't even have to shake my ass at him.
Well, at least not for five minutes straight. A little wiggling might be involved, but I was okay with that.
"Buy me a drink," I demanded, coming up to him just as he was handing over a ten for his own drink.
Brian turned around, raising an eyebrow. "Don't you have a fake ID?"
"Yeah, but I don't have any money," I replied. I let out a long-suffering sigh and fell back against him dramatically, throwing my head back. "I've been whoring myself out for drinks for hours. It's been exhausting."
"Just how drunk are you planning to get?" Brian asked.
"Very." I thought about for a moment, my back still flush against Brian's chest. "But not so drunk that you can't fuck me later. That's still happening."
Brian's lips suddenly latched onto my earlobe. "Trust me," he said quietly, making me shiver. "If I'm buying you drinks, I fully expect you to pay me back later."
A little thrill of excitement shot through me at his words.
"Pay you back how?" I asked slyly.
Brian slipped a hand down to cup my ass, teeth still nibbling at my ears. "Depends on how much I'm spending on you."
"Mm," I said, grinding back against him. My ears picked up the rhythm of the song currently playing, and I ground in time with the beat. "What's me riding your cock worth?"
I could feel Brian's cock stirring as my ass rubbed against his groin, and I smirked.
"Oh, that's worth at least three shots of tequila," he said, mouth hot on my ear. "Four, if you throw in a blowjob."
I grinned lazily. "Don't be silly. You don't have to buy me a shot if you want to blow me."
Brian bit down on my ear. "Twat."
I giggled, turning around to finally face him and sliding my arms around his neck. "So, buy me a shot? Then I want that dance you promised me."
Brian sighed and untangled himself from me, leaning across the counter and holding out a hand to signal the bartender.
Shouldn't Be Wearing Assless Chaps was giving me a dirty look across the bar.
I couldn't help the huge smile on my face, and not just because I was no longer squeezing drinks out of nasty old queens.
Part 14