This is Part 3 of Chapter 113 in the "Queer Theories" series.
Go back to "Deb and Vic's Excellent Adventure -- Part 2", the previous section.
The narrator is Vic Grassi, and features Brian Kinney, Ron Rosenblum, Debbie Novotny.
Rated R and contains no warnings or spoilers.
Summary: Vic starts to understand a few things. Los Angeles, November 2002.
Disclaimer: This is for fun, not profit. Watch Queer As Folk on Showtime, buy the DVDs, videos, and CDs. Read the stories and enjoy.
I walk upstairs and find Brian in Debbie's room, opening up the closet and ripping her clothes off their hangers. Apparently the maid came up here and unpacked our bags while we were down by the pool. Brian is grabbing things furiously and cramming them into Deb's suitcase without even folding them -- which is definitely not like the fastidious boy I know.
"Here -- let me help you with that," I offer, reaching for a blouse he's dropped on the floor.
"Leave me the fuck alone, Vic!" He snatches the blouse away from me and tosses it into the suitcase. "Go and get your own shit -- and hurry up!" he snaps.
"Well, excuse me," I say. "I was only trying to help you."
"Vic... I...." Brian stops and then sits down on the bed. I can see that he's shaking. I mean, he's in a bad way -- and I have no idea what to do about it.
"Brian -- please!" I plead. "It's all right. You seem to think that there's something going on here -- something... I don't know what! But we're okay! Ron is very nice and we had a lovely dinner. Everything is fine! Really!"
"It isn't, Vic! It isn't FINE! You don't fucking understand," he says, desperately. And he holds his head in his hands.
"Brian -- why don't you just try to calm down?" I sit down next to him on the bed and put my arm around him. I haven't done that since he was practically a little kid. "I don't know what sort of argument you and Ron had, but I'm sure things can be worked out. Maybe if you just relax and we all stay here tonight -- and maybe tomorrow things won't look so bad. Okay?" I try rubbing his shoulder a bit. The tension that is apparent in his whole body makes me think that he's going to crack any moment now. He's sweating, too, and I can't help but wonder if maybe he's on something and that's what is making him seem so erratic. Or else -- he's still suffering the aftereffects of what happened to him in England.
Brian lifts up his heads and stares at me. There is something haunted about his eyes. He searches my face, as if he isn't even certain that he can trust me. And all I can think of is when he got back from New York City and his parents had him put away in the Kensington-Welsh Center. When he wouldn't communicate with anyone for weeks -- until he decided to talk to me. That was the beginning of his real recovery then, and, maybe, if Brian would only confide in me....
"Please, tell me. What's the matter, Brian? Whatever problem you and Ron are having -- whatever it is that you feel you can't tell anyone else -- you know you can rely on me, honey. You know that."
Brian wipes at his eyes with the back of his hand. "You think this is about some stupid argument that Ron and I had? Is that what you think, Vic?" Brian shakes his head. "I... I can't... I just... Fuck!" he says, in frustration. "There's no way that you can understand! That you can believe what... what he's doing! Don't you SEE?" Brian looks up at me again and his eyes frighten me. He looks scared to death. "Don't you fucking SEE what's going on?"
"No, Brian, I can't say that I DO see. But I'm willing to listen. Really, I am... I...." I suddenly feel something -- and I look up. Ron is standing in the doorway, staring intently at Brian.
I can feel the tension in Brian's entire body go up another notch. He stands up and turns his back to the door. "We're leaving now," he says. "Vic, will you please get your stuff together?"
"Brian, I...." I don't know what to do.
"Vic -- please?"
"Brian?" Ron's voice sounds so smooth, so reasonable. "If you would just sit down for a few moments and cool off. You've had a hectic day -- and a difficult couple of weeks. I think it's beginning to affect you...." He moves over and tries to put his hand on Brian's arm.
"Fuck YOU!" Brian explodes. "There's NOTHING the matter with ME that can't be solved by me getting the fuck out of this house -- and the fuck away from YOU! And you fucking know it, Ron!"
But Ron just stands there. He doesn't even blink as Brian is raging in his face. It's like he knows exactly what is wrong with Brian. And there's something about Ron standing there so calmly that makes Brian look -- I don't know -- a little crazy. It's uncanny. It's... strange. There IS something odd going on here. I only wish I knew what it was.
"Brian, perhaps if I...." I begin. I feel the urge to go and stand between these two. To protect Brian. I don't understand why, but I feel it very strongly.
"Vic, just get your bag and we'll get the hell out of here." Brian rubs his eyes. Then he slams Debbie's suitcase shut and pushes by Ron and out of the room.
I walk out behind him and go down the hallway and into my own room, where I begin to pack my bag. There isn't much to pack, because I was planning on doing a lot of shopping while I was out here. But I'm aware that Ron is now standing in my doorway, watching me. And he's making ME nervous. He's so intense, so focused, so tightly wound. I'm beginning, perhaps, to see what Brian is talking about.
"Vic," Ron murmurs in that soft voice. "Please keep an eye on Brian for me. I'm... very worried about him. I'm sure you can see why."
I fold the last of my clothes and close my bag. "Look, Ron," I say. "I have no clue what is really going on here. I know that Brian's upset, but I've know him a long, long time. And I trust Brian's instincts. I trust his actions. And if Brian says that something is not right here, then I believe that something isn't right. I don't know what it is, but...."
"Why, Vic -- what could be wrong?" Ron looks around. "Do things LOOK wrong? Have I done anything you feel is wrong?"
I shake my head. "I only know that Brian is very upset -- and I have to believe that there's a reason he's upset."
"Surely you understand that Brian is a little paranoid lately? That he's under a lot of stress? And that is affecting him greatly, Vic. Affecting what he says and what he does."
"Yes, I know Brian has been through a lot recently, Ron."
"And what about what I'VE been through?" Ron lashes back suddenly. "What about what I'VE had to put up with and deal with? Do you ever take THAT into consideration? Any of you? Do you think about how I must have felt when Brian was so badly injured -- and there was NOTHING that I could do to prevent it?"
"I know it must be difficult...."
"Difficult? What the fuck do YOU know, Vic?" he shouts. "Or any of his so-called friends? What about NOW? When he's being so self-destructive that I'm fucking afraid to let him out of my sight? When Brian won't come to terms with reality? Or take his medication? Or...." Ron pauses, looking pained. "I try to put the best façade on everything because we have this film coming out and we have to deal with publicity and all the requisite shit that goes along with celebrity. And with making a movie star. Because that is what I'm trying to do here, Vic. Not just making a film, but creating a 'Star.' And I don't want Brian's career to be destroyed because he's too brittle to survive the scrutiny of the press. Because he can't handle all the media pointing their cameras at him all the time. Because he's too stubborn -- or too damaged! -- to let me help him. Or let ANYBODY help him. He's on the edge. You can see that, can't you, Vic?"
"Yes, Ron," I admit. "I can see that he's troubled, but Brian is basically a strong person. It takes a lot to get to him. I know because I've been observing him since he was a kid. I've seen him in situations that you can't even imagine." And again I think of Brian at 16, lying on that sofa in the rehab hospital, unable -- or unwilling -- to speak. Locked in a dream world. "But he's a survivor," I insist. "Always, a survivor."
Ron's eyes are hard to read. I can't really tell if he's sad or angry or just resigned. "A survivor. Yes, Brian IS that. And I CAN imagine some 'situations,' Vic. I've SEEN some 'situations' in my time." Ron's voice has a bitter edge. "Who was there in New York? Huh? Who saw THAT? Not YOU, Victor Grassi. Not YOU! Or your sister, or her son, or that kid who Brian likes to...." Ron stops and takes a deep breath. "Not anyone but ME! So I think that I know Brian. I think I've earned that knowledge. And I think that gives ME the right to know Brian -- and what he needs. ME! And no one else!"
That makes me think. Ron WAS there. Yes, I saw Brian in the hospital after he returned from New York in such a bad way -- but Ron saw him when he was actually there. Saw what really happened. Tried to rescue him from it. I keep forgetting that. We all keep forgetting that.
But that doesn't stop me from feeling so uneasy. About Ron. About Ron and Brian. No one ever seems to want to give Brian the benefit of the doubt. But I believe that I, at least, owe him that much. To be on HIS side and not to jump to conclusions about one person being right and another being wrong. But Ron -- who is so certain that only HE knows what Brian needs....
"You may have been with Brian in New York, Ron, but that was only for a short time." I pause and watch Ron's eyes narrow at me. "And that was a long time ago. You didn't have to deal with the aftermath of what happened. You didn't have to put Brian back together again. But I was there for that. I was, and Deb was, and Michael, too. And another man -- a priest who helped him at the halfway house. We were all there for Brian. So I think we understand -- I understand -- a little about what Brian needs. And I think that right now maybe Brian just needs to be left alone. By ALL of us."
But then something else comes into my mind as I say it. Because Ron alluded to Justin -- and he is the missing piece of this puzzle. I truly I wish that we'd brought Justin with us this week. Because I feel that Brian needs Justin here NOW, this minute -- and not next week. Brian seems to draw strength from that boy. And it's apparent to me now that Justin's relationship with Brian is a hell of a lot healthier than Ron's relationship with Brian. That seems clear. I pick up my suitcase. "Excuse me, please," I say, moving to the door.
But Ron is blocking the way. "I'll make those reservations, Vic," he says, softly. "For those restaurants. I'll call you, all right?" He's staring at me. Challenging me. More than challenging me. It's like he's coming on to me. But I know that's impossible. I have to clear my head. Almost against my will I find myself excited by him. By his intensity and forcefulness. But I've always had a passion for dangerous men. Fatal men. This is not at all good.
"Sure. Okay, Ron," I say to him. Anything to get the hell out of here. To get by Ron. And now I just want to leave this house more than anything else.
Almost the minute we pull out of Ron's driveway, Brian begins to relax. It's like we've passed out of the Twilight Zone and into the regular world. Even Debbie can feel Brian's anxiety dissipating. She glances at me -- and I shake my head at her. Please, Deb -- don't start anything up! Not now! She must agree, because she doesn't say a word. And the farther away from Ron's house we get, the more the Brian we know returns. By the time we pull up to the hotel, Brian lets out a huge sigh, like he's been holding his breath for the whole ride. He even smiles. Finally.
The Beverly Palms Hotel is gorgeous. The suite that Brian reserved for me Deb is perfect, with two large bedrooms, a stocked bar, and a view of the swimming pool. I really feel like I'm in the middle of a movie or television show about Hollywood. Yes, this really is 'Vic and Deb Go to Hollywood'!
Brian tells us that he has arranged for a car and driver to be on call for us every day, ready to take us anywhere we want to go. And he's made an appointment for Deb to have a fitting at the Versace boutique, where she can pick out a dress.
"And I took the liberty of reserving a tux for you at Armani -- if that's okay with you, Vic?"
"Of course!" I say. Who would say no to that? I'm sure not going to second guess Brian on what's fashionable in Hollywood!
All the way over in the car I could tell that Debbie was pissed off at Brian. She was really having a good time at Ron's place and she didn't like being yanked away while Ron was treating her like the Queen of Sheba -- or Liberty Avenue. But now that we're settled in the hotel, Debbie begins to melt. Brian is so going out of his way to make everything perfect for us. He made all these wonderful arrangements for us and it must really have thrown Brian for a loop to have Ron... well, hijack us at the airport. Because now I'm convinced that's exactly what Ron did. He hijacked us. On purpose.
What I still don't understand is why Ron did it. Unless it was a ploy to get Brian's attention? If they truly ARE kaput -- and it certainly SEEMS that way from the confrontation I witnessed -- and if Brian has really moved into his own place permanently -- Brian told us that it's down near the marina where he keeps his boat -- then maybe this was a way for Ron to force Brian to see him, to talk to him. I don't know. But it's something like that, I'm sure of it.
"If you boys will excuse me," Deb says. "I'm going into my room and freshen up a little. That means I have to pee so bad I'm about to wet myself, okay?"
"Then please, Debbie, don't let us keep you," replies Brian, lifting an eyebrow. And we watch her sashay into her room.
"Deb does have a way with words, doesn't she, Brian?" I laugh.
"That's one way of putting it," he says, sitting back on the sofa. He looks so tired. Beautiful as always, but tired.
"Brian, I don't know how much you want to talk in front of Deb, but I want you to know that you can confide in me. I wasn't kidding. I don't know what's happening out here, but I'm on your side -- no matter what it is."
"Vic, it's just too complicated," he says, sadly. "I... I fucked everything up -- big time. And now I have to deal with the consequences."
"Brian -- what is going on with you and Ron?" I ask. "When he picked us up at the airport -- that was so strange. He went out of his way to be gracious, but... he's so intense. I know something is going on. And it's obvious that YOU are what is going on in Ron's head. And it isn't something good. Am I right, Brian?"
"Oh, Vic," he sighs. "Can't you leave it alone?" But he can see that I'm NOT going to leave it alone. I look at Brian. Try to make him meet my eyes. "To say that Ron is intense is the fucking understatement of the century! You have no idea -- no idea at all!"
I get up and go over and sit next to Brian on the sofa. I take his face in my hands. "Brian, I was there the last time, remember? When you came back from New York? The last time your relationship with Ron fell apart?"
"It didn't fall apart, Vic. I ran away from it. That's it. End of story."
"But that wasn't the end of the story, honey," I say. "Because I know how devastated you were! Not speaking to anyone and closing yourself off from the world -- that didn't have anything to do with your addiction, did it, Brian? You bounced back from THAT like a trouper. You were a strong boy. It wasn't that at all, was it?"
"Vic, let it fucking go!" There's a deep furrow between his eyes, like the pain is pressing.
"You were depressed because you were separated from him, isn't that right?" I say, gently. "You felt you couldn't be with him and so you ran away. You ran away because you loved him."
Brian winces and pulls his face out of my hands and looks away. "It wasn't like that at all. I didn't give a shit about anyone! I never did."
"Lie to yourself, honey -- but don't lie to me," I tell him. "You couldn't face the world. It was easier to just hide away. To pretend you didn't care about anyone or anything. But that was never true, was it? You cared too much. About your lousy parents. About Michael. About Deb. Maybe even about me. And certainly about Ron. I know you did."
"Why?" says Brian, quietly. "Because fucking TIM told you? Is THAT what you two talk about in bed, Vic? About what his teenage fuck-buddy told him years and years ago? About having to listen to me... cry night after fucking night? Is that what you want to hear?"
"If it's the truth, Brian," I say. "Because it's obviously affecting both you and Ron to this day. Things aren't working out and it seems that both of you are looking for someone to blame. But sometimes there isn't anyone to blame. Things just don't work out. Even when you love a person. When you still have strong feelings for a person...."
"If I have any feelings for Ron, they're the feelings of a 16 year old boy who doesn't know shit, Vic," he says, blinking. "A scared and damaged and desperate 16 year old kid. And that's the way Ron STILL treats me! Like I can't do anything without him. Unless HE arranges it, manages it, controls it. I don't know how the fuck I survived all those years in Pittsburgh, or in college, or at Ryder without Ron there to guide me and make sure I didn't fall over on my fucking face every five minutes!"
"I'm sure it isn't that bad, Brian," I comment.
"You have no idea, Vic!" he cries. "I thought that... that I found someone who cared about ME! Really cared. But it was never meant to be." He shakes his head and those eyes are so full of pain that my heart really aches for him. "Even if I'd stayed in New York with Ron, it would have been a fucking disaster! Don't ask me how I know that, Vic, but I know. Ron... he meant well back then. Maybe he even means well now... but it will never work! Never! He HAS to keep control of me or else he can't stand it. I thought when we reconnected last December that it would be a second chance for me -- for us. But it was a farce from the get-go. Ron wanting more than I could give him. And I...." Brian stops. "I couldn't be the person he wanted me to be. I... tried. But I couldn't. And I couldn't love him the way be wanted me to. I thought I could, but...."
"Because you loved Justin instead. Isn't that it?" I say.
"Maybe," he hedges. "Okay -- yes!" he admits. "Because I loved Justin and not Ron. And the more Ron realized that, the more obsessed he seemed to get. The more he wanted to force me to be what he wanted me to be. First, with 'The Olympian.' I did the film because he wanted me to. I felt I owed it to him. And then -- with everything! He even wanted me to fucking get married! In some ridiculous commitment ceremony in Maui. Like I would ever in a million fucking years agree to that! And he became fixated on this 'wedding' -- and the more I pulled away, the more fixated he seemed to get."
I pat his arm. "He was obvious terrified of losing you, honey. After all those years of thinking about you, imagining what might have been... And then to have you and then realize that you don't love him back. That must have been devastating."
"I know," he says. "And I've tried to keep that in mind. Because on one level -- the level of that 16 year old boy -- I DO love Ron. But the grown-up Brian -- if 'grown-up' is a word you can use for me under any circumstance! -- doesn't love him that way. I tried, but I can't. And now, some of the things he's done to keep me with him -- I can't excuse that, Vic! I can't talk about it -- I really can't. But let me say that... that Ron did something to Justin that I can never forget -- or forgive. Ever."
"To Justin?" I say, puzzled. "What? What could Ron have done to Justin?"
"Trust me, Vic. You said you would trust me, didn't you?" Brian looks at me directly. He isn't kidding around. "And never, EVER say anything to Justin about this. Or to anyone else! Not to Deb, or Michael, or Tim! I fucking mean it! But NEVER let Justin even get the HINT that you know something. Swear to God, Vic!"
I stare at Brian and I know that he's never been more serious. "I swear. I do."
"Hey, why the solemn faces?" says Debbie, coming out of the bedroom and plopping herself down.
"You were in there an awfully long time just to pee, Sis," I say.
"I unpacked a few things, too. I don't want to waste a minute of sightseeing time tomorrow!"
"That reminds me," says Brian. "I want to take you guys out on the boat for a day. We can't cruise all the way to Catalina Island, but we could have a nice ride -- and eat dinner by the ocean? There are a lot of great places down there. I took Ron's mother out when she was here last month...." Brian blinks a few times. "She had a good time. Lilith is... you'd like her, Deb."
"I'm sure I would, hon," says Debbie, basking in a huge soft chair. "Is she coming out for the premiere?"
Brian shrugs. "I don't really know. As you could probably tell, Ron and I aren't in the closest of communication right now."
"I'm sorry about that, sweetie," says Deb.
"There's nothing to be sorry about," Brian replies. "It was my decision. It was a choice I had to make." Brian has that look on his face that I've seen so many times before -- the one that says 'I don't know what the fuck I'm doing, but it's the only thing I CAN do and still be Brian.' And I'm actually glad to see that look -- even if he's still a little confused, it's better than the verge-of-hysteria look we were seeing earlier this evening.
"I know it's tough when things don't work out in a relationship, kiddo," Debbie goes on. "Maybe after all this fuss over the movie is over you and Ronnie can talk about things...."
Brian shakes his head. "Nope, Deb. There's nothing to talk about. It's a done deal. And I do mean DONE. And I've... I've made a certain... I mean that I... Justin and I have...." Brian swallows hard. "I can only concentrate on ONE relationship in my life. I mean, even admitting to myself that I'm IN a relationship is hard enough, but to admit that I... might be in love...." He rubs his forehead like it hurts to think of these things. "I'm just so sick of splitting myself up into little pieces and giving different parts to different people. No wonder I don't know what the fuck I'm doing half the time," he says.
"I think you know exactly what you are doing, Brian," I assert. "And I think you've made the right decision -- if what you're saying is that you and Justin have made some kind of commitment to each other."
And Debbie's eyebrows rise up so high they almost fly off her face.
But Brian doesn't flinch. "I don't know about THAT word," he says. "It's so fucking... I mean, that's what dykes do, for fucksake! Make 'commitments'! In fucking Vera Wangs!"
"Not necessarily, Brian," I say. "You make commitments all the time, to many different people. To your son -- to take care of him. To Michael -- to be his friend and keep him out of trouble...." Debbie snorts at that, but I continue. "To Deb and me -- for this beautiful vacation. To the movie people -- to do all you can to make the picture a success. Those are all commitments. There are all sorts of ways to be committed to other people without having to sacrifice your 'principles' as the biggest, baddest stud in town, Brian. Assuming that's something you still want to be?"
Brian smiles slightly. "Not really, Vic. But it's hard to give up the throne."
"Not if there's something better," I reply. "Not if there's something that you want even more."
"Something I want even more," he muses. "SOMEONE I want more. I think you already know that, Vic."
"Hey!" interrupts Debbie. "I almost forgot! I got something for you, honey. Now that you have a new place you'll really need it for your bedroom. I don't think it would have fit in with Ronnie's decor anyway -- but it should fit in your new place just great, okay?"
Brian hesitates. "It isn't that ceramic cat from Vic's room, is it? Or one of those big cookie jars that looks like the Seven Dwarfs?"
"Jesus, Mary, and Joseph!" Deb cries. "You think I'd break up my Limited Edition Snow White Collectible Set? Think again, kiddo!" And Debbie goes back into the bedroom.
"Please, Vic, tell me," asks Brian. "Do I have to brace myself? Because I remember those plates from the Franklin Mint featuring 'Famous Game Show Hosts of the Sixties' that she gave me when I first moved into the loft. She's still pissed off at me that I'm not displaying them properly."
I laugh. "This time? Not at all!" I say. "By the way -- what DID you do with those plates?"
"I still have them," Brian confides. "Except for Monty Hall and 'Let's Make a Deal' -- I broke that one. But I was afraid to give the damn things away! They're still in a box in the basement of my building."
"Well," I suggest. "Maybe you could give them to Justin? He might be able to use them in one of his art pieces."
"Shit!" Brian exclaims. "He probably could!" Brian really smiles now. "What do you think of him being chosen for that Warhol Museum exhibit?"
"I think it's just fabulous, Brian. He's really talented."
"I know," Brian replies. He can't keep the pride out of his voice. "And it's something that's HIS -- no one can say that I -- or anyone else -- 'arranged' it for him. Or handed it to him on a fucking silver platter. Like I was handed 'The Olympian.' Or 'Hammersmith.' Or my entire fucking, undeserved career." Brian sighs. "But Justin's art -- he did that ALL himself! No one has any idea of the way he... struggled when he was recovering. Just to get back to being normal, let alone to be where he is now -- the top of his fucking class!"
"Everyone knows that, Brian. Everyone." And it's true. We're all so proud of Justin's achievements.
"Well, I just want to make sure. Because his art is important. Just as important as any of the shit I do. More important, really," he says, very sincerely. "Much more."
"You know, Brian, about YOUR career," I tell him. "Don't downgrade yourself all the time. Please don't. Just tonight Ron was saying about how wonderful you are in 'The Olympian' and...."
"Don't believe anything he says, Vic," says Brian, dismissively. "Ron is just blowing smoke."
"I don't think so, honey," I tell him. "Ron said that you were...."
"Ta da!!!" trumpets Deb, coming out of her room at that moment. "Here you go, sweetheart. I did most of it, but the girls at my group helped me finish it up." She hands Brian a brightly wrapped bundle.
"This isn't the Maltese Falcon or anything, is it?" Brian weighs it on his hand. "No, too light, I guess."
"Will you open the fucking thing and quit fooling around!" yells Deb, smacking his arm.
Brian unties the ribbon and carefully opens the paper, like he's afraid it's going to explode. "What IS this, Debbie?"
Deb is ready to burst. "It's a quilt! It's called 'The Fan'! Get it? See the fan in the center? And I'm your biggest fan, sweetie!"
Brian unfolds the thing and spreads it out. The quilt is huge -- big enough to cover even Brian's king-sized bed. "Jesus. How long did it take you to make this, Deb?"
"Oh, a couple of months. But I'm real slow. I've already started a new one for Lindsay's baby. Shades of pink, for a girl. Like the one I did for Gus in blue."
Brian is truly speechless. He just stares at the thing while Deb points out the places where the ladies embroidered his name in a 'hidden' pattern along the edge. "See?" says Deb. "'Brian Kinney' here -- and here -- and here!"
"I see. When you look closely you can see my name, but it just looks like a fancy design from far away." Brian runs his long fingers over the quilt, feeling all the different materials of the pieces. "It's amazing, Deb. Beautiful. I didn't know you were so creative! I mean, in areas besides fashion," Brian says, looking over at me.
"Oh, it's nothing. I just wanted to give you something that had a special meaning. Something unique." Debbie is beaming. She's really happy that Brian is so impressed with all the work she put into the quilt. "Oh, and one more thing," Deb says.
"What else?" I say. "Matching pillowcases?"
"Shut up, Vic!" Debbie shushes me. "Over in this corner. See this little design here? I put that in myself. Just... I don't know. Just because."
Brian and I both bend over to see what she's pointing to. And it's another embroidered pattern forming a name, but not Brian's name. Instead, it says 'Justin Taylor.' Just in that one corner.
"Thanks, Deb," says Brian, looking down at the quilt. And his voice cracks a little, the way it sometimes does. "Thanks."
"Don't mention it, kiddo. I just hope you enjoy it." Then Debbie gets that evil gleam in her eye. "And when Justin comes here next week -- don't mess the quilt all up first thing! Turn it down BEFORE you toss him on the bed and fuck his brains out!"
"Sis!" I say. "Have a little couth, will you?"
"That's okay, Vic. And I won't forget, Deb," Brian says. "I'll never forget."
Continue on to "Deb and Vic's Excellent Adventure -- Part 4", the next section.
©Gaedhal, April 2003.
Updated April 26, 2003.