QAF Gift Exchange fic 2022: Compromise and Control
Compromise and Control
May 2016
When Brian had first mentioned the idea, Justin was shocked. ‘Brian Kinney, businessman extraordinaire’ was so much a part of the whole ‘Brian Kinney’ ™ persona (along with ‘Brian Kinney, sex god’ and ‘Brian Kinney reluctant hero’) that at first Justin thought he was joking. Then he told himself that it was just a phase and Brian would get over it if he didn’t react and turn it into a “thing”.
But the truth was that Justin knew that Brian was bored and frustrated and at the same time over-stretched and exhausted. And he understood.
The New York office of Kinnetik had opened nearly eight years ago now. The one in LA two years after that. Then Chicago; and Mexico City; and Toronto. Now there was pressure on Brian to move into Europe - or at least the UK; to take advantage of his immense success to expand the business even further; to “build his brand" while the opportunity was there.
But with success had come problems. It was hard to maintain quality and consistency across the different offices. Some degree of variation was to be expected; it was even desirable. And ad which worked in New York would often fall flat in LA, let alone Mexico City. Or London. Not to mention the nightmares involved in translating from one language to another.
But there still had to be a certain “something” about a Kinnetik campaign - the edge which had made the brand so successful. Astute business people knew that that edge came from the genius of Brian Kinney, which meant high end clients expected, not to say demanded, Brian’s personal involvement. So, in addition to dealing with the complex administrative issues relating to running five offices across three countries (in three languages, no less), Brian had spent much of the last few years in planes, airports and hotels, traveling from one branch to another.
The private plane had helped, of course, as did the apartment they’d set up years ago in New York. (The top two floors of a beautiful brownstone. The owner, an older lady whose vitality made Justin feel tired, lived on the first floor; she adored them both and was happy to see that their place was cleaned and stocked with food basics on a moment’s notice.) And Brian had bought a beautiful beachfront property just outside LA which served as a holiday retreat as well as a West Coast base. But to insure that the LA place would always be ready if Brian was in LA for a couple of nights, staff had had to be engaged to keep it clean, keep it stocked with food (and alcohol) and make sure it was always ready and welcoming. So that had proved another source of admin stress and was really too much trouble to go to in every city where Kinnetik had an office.
There had, of course, been problems recruiting staff that Brian considered capable and suitable for each of the offices; not to mention finding HR staff who could navigate the raft of challenges presented by three different sets of HR laws and requirements. All of which had been significantly compounded when Ted had decided last year to take an early retirement. He’d had a health scare that had turned out okay, but which had shifted his perspective and even Brian’s wiles couldn’t persuade him to go on slaving over spreadsheets when he could well afford to go off and enjoy the world outside Kinnetik’s offices. (Mark, the partner he’d met through Emmett just after Justin first left for New York, had sold the restaurant he’d owned for nearly twenty years about five years ago, and had provided an effective role model for the joys of a well-funded retirement.) Brian hadn’t begrudged his faithful lieutenant the chance to enjoy the best life had to offer, but it had left he and Cynthia dealing with all the admin problems without their most trusted advisor as well as needing to come up with more and more creatively brilliant offerings.
No wonder Brian was so fed up.
The constant travel had also put strains on their relationship. Justin’s own career had developed steadily and while his stint as artiste-in-residence at a prestigious New York gallery had been well-timed with the opening of the Kinnetik NY office, a similar six month program in Seattle had clashed with the Chicago venture and the opportunity to create a major mural in Philadelphia had come at the same time as the Mexico City opening.
Now Justin was in a position where he was well enough known that he could choose where he worked and he’d been planning to open his own gallery in Pittsburgh. His Mom was getting older, Deb was older still, and Justin wanted to be close at hand if needed.
Brian had been supportive of all that; as he was of all Justin’s career choices. But then the Board of Directors that he and Ted had established to manage the ever-expanding company had started putting pressure on for the move to Europe. And that would have meant either more months apart or delaying the opening of Justin’s gallery, since even once it was open Justin’s presence would be required for at least the first six months.
Justin knew Brian had been looking for a solution. But the solution he’d come up with was so radical that Justin was pretty much appalled.
Brian Kinney had decided to sell Kinnetik (Inc).
Of course Justin could see the advantages. The offer Brian was considering would give him enough to live on for several lifetimes, even if he didn’t invest a penny of it. (Not that he actually needed more money - income from his current investment portfolio excluding Kinnetik could finance a small country.) No more dashing back and forth across the country at the whim of demanding clients. The chance for them to set down more permanent roots, to actually start to live together at Britin, the dream house Brian had bought for him over ten years ago and where they’d never stayed for more than a few weeks at a time since. There was even an option for Brian to retain shares in the business; although Brian didn’t seem keen on that idea, he wanted to walk away free and clear with no more involvement.
And therein lay the problem, from Justin’s point of view.
What on earth was Brian going to do with himself? He might need a holiday. Justin was sure that he’d benefit from some downtime. But then what?
Brian might be current bored with the repetitive nature of business management and with the endless travel-go-round. But he was also kept too busy to get himself into too much mischief. The thought of what a really bored and completely unoccupied Brian Kinney might get up to … Well, that just didn’t bear thinking about at all.
Trying to avoid thinking about it was keeping Justin awake at night.
But ultimately it was Brian’s decision so by the time Justin had put in a bid on some premises not far from Liberty Avenue Brian had made the decision to sell; and while the builders, decorators, plumbers and electricians did the work necessary to turn two small stores into a first floor gallery space with three workrooms and an office upstairs, Brian traveled from branch to branch letting employees know what was happening and that they understood the options that he’d negotiated for them.
Brian remembered all too well how he’d felt when Marty Ryder had sold out to Vance and he didn’t want those feelings to be any part of his legacy at Kinnetik. The sales contract included legally enforceable clauses relating to decent severance packages for any employee terminated within 12 months of the sale as well as voluntary packages for any employee who decided to leave within 3 months of the final handover. The deal also included the hiring of a reputable HR company to oversee the process and provide a confidential resource for all employees so that would receive independent advice and didn’t have to discuss the options with the new owners. (Cynthia, of course, received a particularly generous package and was looking forward to doing some traveling purely for fun for a change.)
Now, in October, with less than two months to go to the grand opening of the Taylor-Made Gallery, Brian had relinquished all interest in the multi-million dollar business he’d built up from scratch and he and Justin had moved full-time into Britin.
*****
For the first couple of weeks it was, from Justin’s point of view, okay. In fact, it was pretty damned good.
Back when they’d first furnished the house, they’d had extensive work done on the cellars to create carefully controlled temperature and humidity zones, perfect for storing Brian’s growing wine collection and Justin’s artworks. Justin had sold a lot of his work over the years, of course; but there were quite a few that he’d kept either for sentimental reasons (like the early sketch of Brian he’d discovered during their initial “moving in” phase and the drafts for Rage) or because they hadn’t been the “right fit” for any of the galleries that wanted to hang his work. So he had a solid collection of his own works to display without needing to kill himself just to populate the gallery’s walls.
During those first two weeks he’d spend a few hours considering which works he wanted to feature for the Opening, shuffling them around to get an initial idea of which to display where and then emerge from the cellars to find Brian hot and sweaty from pushing furniture around in yet another search for the perfect formation he wanted in one room or another.
Hot! Sweaty! Brian! was a message that Justin’s body had a very particular way of interpreting and there were various corners of Britin that got enthusiastically “christened” (along with many that got revisited of course).
Or he’d come home from a meeting with one of the unknown artists he was planning to feature at the Gallery in the next few months to find Brian wandering the grounds making plans for what work needed to be done now to help get the gardens ready for Spring. This was an unexpected side of Brian but the process of warming up his half-frozen lover was intensely enjoyable for both of them so Justin welcomed it happily.
Some days he’d even do some painting and then when he was ready for a break he’d wander out to their indoor pool area where Brian would be swimming seemingly effortless laps. Since one of the biggest advantages of Britin over the Loft was that very few people came to the house without prior warning, Brian never bothered with a swimsuit. Naked!Brian was another message that still went straight to Justin’s cock and the sturdy (and extremely expensive) sunlounges Brian had insisted on getting might not have had much sun yet but they were definitely getting enough vigorous testing to prove that they were well worth the money paid for them.
Thus, for the first couple of weeks of Brian’s retirement all went well. Brian was finding ways to occupy his time and Justin was happy, busy, excited about the upcoming Opening and extremely well-fucked. But then he invited Emmett out to Britin to finalize the catering for the big event.
Brian had gone into Pittsburgh to have lunch with Michael so it made sense for him to offer his services to drive Emmett out to Britin and then, Justin promised, they’d pay for a car to take him back. That way there would be no hurry and Em could relax and stay for dinner and a drink or two without having to worry about driving back to Pittsburgh. Simple. Logical. Practical.
But … that drive to Britin, even at Brian’s normal speed, took quite a while and gave Brian a chance to worm out of Emmett every details of the plans he and Justin had made for the Opening. And from that point it was pretty much inevitable that Brian’s marketing instincts would kick in and he would get involved. Or, as Justin saw it, take over the whole fucking thing. Suffice to say that the evening had not gone as planned and ten minutes after the car summoned to take Emmett back to Pittsburgh had left with a very frazzled and distressed party planner on board, Justin had come downstairs with a bag and announced that when Brian was ready to pull his head out of his ass and apologize for treating his partner with so little respect, he’d find him at the Marriot.
He actually been tempted to go to his mother’s but knew he’d never hear the end of that from Brian. Also, that “running home to Mommy” as his partner would not doubt classify it wasn’t exactly going to help Justin prove to the arrogant son of a bitch he lived with that he’d been a grown up for a long while now and could plan the Opening of his own fucking gallery, thank you very much.
Justin called Daphne as soon as he’d booked into the hotel and expressed his anger and frustration at some length.
Daphne let him rant for a while and then cut through his fretting word salad by saying practically, “So what exactly is there about Brian’s suggestions that you hate so much?”
Justin fumed. “Everything! It’s not what he suggested. He shouldn’t be “suggesting” anything at all. I’m not a fucking child who …”
“Then stop acting like one!” Daphne snapped.
Justin was so shocked he actually shut up for a moment which gave her the chance to say, “Justin, are you seriously telling me you’ve never made any suggestions for any of Brian’s ad campaigns?”
“That’s not the point!” he sulked.
“Of course it is. It’s what partners do. If they have experience to offer that can help improve something their partner is working on, they offer it.”
Justin huffed, but was otherwise silent.
Daphne pressed on. “You often give him input on his campaigns from an artist’s perspective.”
“That’s different.”
“It’s not different. He’s giving you the benefit of his considerable expertise in marketing. You do want to market the gallery to make it a financial success, don’t you?”
He huffed again, but she could tell he was listening.
“Look, of course he shouldn’t just take over. You need to maintain control. But you don’t just throw away all of his experience and advice because you’re miffed about Brian being Brian. You do what you always do. You hold your ground and let him know what the boundaries are. But you also think about his suggestions and take on board what you think will work for you and fit with your vision. You don’t just throw it all out because you’re feeling a bit insecure.”
“I’m not insecure!”
It was Daphne’s turn to remain silent.
“I’m not.” Pause. “Not really.” Longer pause. “It’s just … this is the first big business venture that I’ve tried. I don’t want to fail.”
“And?” she prompted.
“And I don’t want to feel like I’ve only succeeded because of Brian,” he admitted. “God, that’s fucked up, isn’t it?”
“Pretty much,” she agreed. “All Brian is doing is adding a little polish to the presentation of the product. Everything else is all you. I mean … he hasn’t said anything about the location or the selection of artworks to hang or the choice of artists to feature or any of that, has he?”
“No,” Justin sighed. “He’s left everything about the set up and running of the gallery to me.”
“So he’s not trying to take over the whole venture.”
“No,” Justin admitted.
“Okay, then. So what changes for the Opening did he actually suggest?”
“He wants to change the whole guest list for one thing.”
“What kind of changes?”
“I want to just have a couple of press reps and aside from that have … you know, real people - friends and family and local artists so they can get the feel of the place and encourage them to think of my gallery when they’re looking for someone to hang their stuff. To bring it to me first.”
“And who does Brian want to invite?”
“A whole lot of businessmen. And influencers.” The scorn he felt for this was clear in his voice.
“In other words, the people who will be buying the artwork and the people who’ll help to sell it.”
“Yes, but …”
“I know. It’s not your vision. So talk to him about it. Find some way to do both - have something “real” for local people but don’t leave out the movers and shakers.”
Justin grunted.
“Anything else?”
“The food. And the drinks.”
“Did Emmett like Brian’s suggestions?”
Justin sighed. “Loved them.”
“Are they going to blow out the catering budget?”
“Not really. The drinks might be a bit more expensive, but nothing that I can’t manage.” He sighed again. “Brian wants to have each of the canapés mimic the colors in one of the signature pieces.”
“That sounds brilliant!”
“Yeah. Emmett got really excited about it. And Brian wants to have themed cocktails and mocktails as well as wine. Emmett says the cost is actually about the same as good wine, but you need to have someone to make them so that’s where most of the cost is. I mean, there’ll be water and juice as well, of course.”
“Well, that doesn’t sound like there’s any real problem with the catering then. So it’s only the guest list.”
Justin sighed again, realizing that he was going to have to apologize to his partner for over-reacting to his offer of advice. “Yeah, I guess.”
“So. Talk. To. Brian.” Daphne ordered.
“Yes, Daph,” Justin said obediently.
She laughed. “Love you, Taylor.”
“Back atcha, Chanders.” A brief pause, then, softly and sincerely, “Thanks, Daph.”
“You’re welcome. Now go get ‘im.”
“Yes, Ma’am.”
Daphne was laughing when she hung up.
Taking a deep breath, Justin pushed “1” on his speed dial.
*******
After a very enjoyable night at the Marriot, involving a great deal of makeup sex, next morning Justin and Brian headed for the gallery to discuss what compromise could be reached on the guest list.
Justin understood all too well the need to invite the “bigwigs” and the influencers. He just didn’t think want the locals to be made to feel uncomfortable. “Maybe we could do a separate kind of preview thing for the local artists,” he mused. “Something fairly low key so …”
Brian grabbed the back of his neck and hauled him in for a smacking kiss. “The boy’s a fucking genius,” he said.
“Not so much of a boy,” Justin said with a sly grin.
Brian, whose ass was a little tender this morning, returned it with one of his own. “Too fucking true,” he admitted, wriggling slightly on the firm office chair
Justin refused to be further distracted. “So you think the preview is a good idea?”
“Yeah. But not for the local artists. We’ll have a grand charity preview. $200 a ticket. All proceeds go to charity. Maybe even auction something off as a donation. Invite all the movers and shakers to that.”
Justin considered this. “We don’t have much time,” he said.
“We can get the invites out today and I’ll pull a few strings to get a piece about it in the Gazette on the weekend.”
“The social media types aren’t going to want to pay,” he said. “They expect to get invites to these things for nothing.”
Brian shrugged. “I know a couple who will and if the rest don’t want to make a charity donation to get to the preview then they sure as fuck won’t get invited to the Grand Opening,” he said ruthlessly. “I’ll check with the ones I know today and we’ll make sure they get a mention in the Gazette. In a couple of weeks I’ll drop some names who are so stingy they don’t want to shell out for … what … gay kids?”
Justin thought about it. “Yeah. The Rainbow shelter always needs help - especially with the Holidays coming up.”
“Great. I’ll call them and set it up. You need to call Emmett and let him know that the catering has doubled and is now over two nights.”
Justin pulled a face. “Double the cost, too.”
Brian shrugged. “I’ll make the catering costs for the preview my donation.”
“You don’t have to do that.”
“I know I don’t have to. But you know I’m always looking for more tax write-offs.” He paused for a moment then said quietly, “Let me do this, Sunshine. I promise I won’t interfere with anything else, but let me do this.”
After a long look into his eyes, Justin smiled slightly and kissed him. “Okay, partner,” he agreed.
*******
They were all kept busy in the next few weeks. Justin found himself doing a number of press interviews about the charity preview. Emmett was running himself ragged inventing appropriate canapés and insuring there were enough produced, plus hiring adequate staff to cover both evenings. (He also insisted on making the extra food costs his own donation to the charity evening, leaving Brian just to pay the staff costs.) And Brian himself was in his element - schmoozing with the great and not-necessarily-good to insure that the attendance list at the preview would be sufficiently glittering to attract notice and applying a careful mix of pressure and flattery to make sure that not only prominent Pittsburgh “influencers” would be at the event, but also a couple of internationally known figures. (If he offered the use of his private plane to get these high flyers to Pittsburgh and pulled strings to get them accommodation at some of the best hotels, that was between Brian and his accountant.)
But all the effort was well worth it in the end. The charity preview was a glittering affair with some very high profile people being snapped on arrival and some very flattering reviews appearing in various blogs the next day. No photography was allowed in the gallery itself, so the artwork was effectively kept under wraps until the actual Opening.
This was equally successful. Requests had come in from several National publications asking for press passes for the Opening. The Mayor and head of the local Arts Council attended both the events. And the local artists and local business owners who Justin had wanted to be his key guests at the Opening found themselves receiving a surprising degree of attention.
But at both events Justin's art was the true focus of attention and the glowing reviews gave indication that the Taylor-Made Gallery was going to be very successful indeed.
Overall, as the Kinney-Taylors prepared for their first Christmas in their new/ old home (not without a great deal of … discussion about decorations, invitations, and the guest list, of course), the future looked particularly bright.
Now if only Justin could work out how to keep Brian out of mischief in the New Year …
He was sure he'd come up with something. (Brian really isn’t the only control freak in the family.)
End Notes: I picked prompt 3 which was: Brian sells Kinnetik and is driving Justin crazy because he doesn't know how to keep busy.
But I also kind of wove in a version of Prompt 1 which was: Brian hired Emmett to plan a surprise party for Justin- mishaps galore and possibly Justin doesn't want to attend as he's mad at Brian.
Hope this is something like what you wanted.
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