"The Enchanted Cottage" -- Part 3
Brian changes his mind.
Part 3
The Road to Erie, Pa., September 2006
The drive from Pittsburgh to Erie didn't take that long, but it seemed an eternity to Brian.
He was unusually restless, which said something, because Brian Kinney was a man who defined the term restless. He stopped a few times along the way, always at an obscure rest area, avoiding the larger truck stops, to get out and stretch his legs. He'd walk a little and smoke a cigarette -- he didn't allow anyone, even himself, to smoke in his vintage Corvette Stingray. Then he'd sit for a while, thinking. He decided to turn back a number of times, but in the end he always got back in the car and continued on.
Fucking Mikey! And goddamn Lindsay!
He still couldn't believe they'd talked him into this stupid move.
It had been all Lindsay's idea. She had met this Mrs. Minnett at one of her Gay and Lesbian Center fundraisers. The woman had gotten some award for a program she'd founded to fight homophobia and harassment in the schools. A typical do-gooder, trying to change people. Trying to tell fucking straight people to be nice. Trying to coax them into not murdering us.
Fat lot of good that shit does!
But it had been Michael who finally convinced him. The look on Michael's face when he'd come to visit him in the hospital that last time. Brian passed the incident off. A mistake. A fuck up. You know, like in 'Cabaret' -- too much pills and liquor.
But Michael didn't laugh. He didn't buy into any of Brian's usual bullshit excuses. He'd already lost too much.
"I don't want to lose you, too," he said to Brian in that hospital room. "I couldn't take it. Maybe you don't give a shit about your own life, but I do. I still care. You're Brian Kinney, for fuck sake! And to me you'll always be young and beautiful. Always. So please, Brian -- try! Try to live! Try to go on! Even if not for yourself. Do it for me. Do it for Gus. For Lindsay. For Ma. Because we all still need you here. We can't afford to lose anyone else."
Brian didn't say anything that day. He only closed his eyes and pretended to go to sleep. Finally, Michael went away. But Brian couldn't forget his friend's words.
And now here he was. On his way to Lady Do-Gooder's fucking estate.
And a cozy cottage by the lake. Shit! What a place for Brian Kinney!
Peace. Quiet. Nature. And no fucking.
Unless there was a hot gamekeeper, like in 'Lady Chatterley's Lover.' Did rich people still have gamekeepers? Probably not. A hot handyman, then.
There had to be somebody worth fucking in Erie, Pa.
Brian was sitting on a picnic table, nursing his cigarette. He was right outside of Erie. There was no pausing again. No turning back now.
He heard a car pull up. Stop. A door open. Footsteps in the gravel.
"Hey, got a light?"
The voice was deep. Sexy. Roadside rest areas were infamous cruising spots. There were no other cars, no other drivers around. The perfect set-up. One last blowjob before his exile would be welcomed.
Brian turned around slowly.
He was young and hot. Tall, wearing cut-off jeans and a tight tank top. He gaped at Brian, his mouth falling open in dismay.
"Sorry!" He backed away. "I... I'm sorry I disturbed you!"
The guy fled back to his car and gunned it, peeling out of the parking lot and back onto the highway.
Brian watched him go dispassionately. There goes my last chance to get my rocks off, he thought.
He finished the cigarette, tossed it to the dirt, and headed into Erie and Mrs. Minnett's estate.
***
Part 3
The Road to Erie, Pa., September 2006
The drive from Pittsburgh to Erie didn't take that long, but it seemed an eternity to Brian.
He was unusually restless, which said something, because Brian Kinney was a man who defined the term restless. He stopped a few times along the way, always at an obscure rest area, avoiding the larger truck stops, to get out and stretch his legs. He'd walk a little and smoke a cigarette -- he didn't allow anyone, even himself, to smoke in his vintage Corvette Stingray. Then he'd sit for a while, thinking. He decided to turn back a number of times, but in the end he always got back in the car and continued on.
Fucking Mikey! And goddamn Lindsay!
He still couldn't believe they'd talked him into this stupid move.
It had been all Lindsay's idea. She had met this Mrs. Minnett at one of her Gay and Lesbian Center fundraisers. The woman had gotten some award for a program she'd founded to fight homophobia and harassment in the schools. A typical do-gooder, trying to change people. Trying to tell fucking straight people to be nice. Trying to coax them into not murdering us.
Fat lot of good that shit does!
But it had been Michael who finally convinced him. The look on Michael's face when he'd come to visit him in the hospital that last time. Brian passed the incident off. A mistake. A fuck up. You know, like in 'Cabaret' -- too much pills and liquor.
But Michael didn't laugh. He didn't buy into any of Brian's usual bullshit excuses. He'd already lost too much.
"I don't want to lose you, too," he said to Brian in that hospital room. "I couldn't take it. Maybe you don't give a shit about your own life, but I do. I still care. You're Brian Kinney, for fuck sake! And to me you'll always be young and beautiful. Always. So please, Brian -- try! Try to live! Try to go on! Even if not for yourself. Do it for me. Do it for Gus. For Lindsay. For Ma. Because we all still need you here. We can't afford to lose anyone else."
Brian didn't say anything that day. He only closed his eyes and pretended to go to sleep. Finally, Michael went away. But Brian couldn't forget his friend's words.
And now here he was. On his way to Lady Do-Gooder's fucking estate.
And a cozy cottage by the lake. Shit! What a place for Brian Kinney!
Peace. Quiet. Nature. And no fucking.
Unless there was a hot gamekeeper, like in 'Lady Chatterley's Lover.' Did rich people still have gamekeepers? Probably not. A hot handyman, then.
There had to be somebody worth fucking in Erie, Pa.
Brian was sitting on a picnic table, nursing his cigarette. He was right outside of Erie. There was no pausing again. No turning back now.
He heard a car pull up. Stop. A door open. Footsteps in the gravel.
"Hey, got a light?"
The voice was deep. Sexy. Roadside rest areas were infamous cruising spots. There were no other cars, no other drivers around. The perfect set-up. One last blowjob before his exile would be welcomed.
Brian turned around slowly.
He was young and hot. Tall, wearing cut-off jeans and a tight tank top. He gaped at Brian, his mouth falling open in dismay.
"Sorry!" He backed away. "I... I'm sorry I disturbed you!"
The guy fled back to his car and gunned it, peeling out of the parking lot and back onto the highway.
Brian watched him go dispassionately. There goes my last chance to get my rocks off, he thought.
He finished the cigarette, tossed it to the dirt, and headed into Erie and Mrs. Minnett's estate.
***