This is Page 2 of Part 4 of Chapter 112 in the "Queer Theories" series.
Go back to Page 1 of "My Favorite Mistake -- Part 4", the previous page.
Brian tells me that since he strong-armed me into French last night, that dinner tonight is my choice. And I pick Italian, of course. Brian calls the concierge and gets a recommendation and the limo takes us down to Little Italy to a restaurant that looks straight out of 'The Godfather'! It's great! Just what I wanted, right down to the red and white checked tablecloth and the drippy candle stuck in the wine bottle!
"I think some famous gangster was rubbed out in this place," Brian whispers as we are seated. "Should we ask to see the bullet holes in the wall?"
"Stop!" I laugh. But it does look like a good place for a mob hit.
He smiles a little, but then looks at his menu. He's been pretty quiet since our little excursion down to the Lower East Side. Maybe that was a big mistake. But... I just want Brian to get past all this stuff that is clogging up his mind and his emotions. I almost wish he'd get all upset and yell at me, so that at least I know SOMETHING is getting through. One thing I learned after being bashed was that trying to pretend it didn't happen was exactly the wrong thing to do.
"Are you okay, Brian?" I ask towards the end of dinner. "I mean, really okay?"
"I'm fine, Justin. Fine," he says. He leaves more of the linguine with white clam sauce than he eats. The portions are huge and even I can't finish my chicken cacciatore, but if I try to bring the leftovers back to the hotel room I know Brian will have a fit. And I hate to leave all this food. He pushed his plate away. "Really."
"I'm sorry I made you go down there," I say. "It ruined our day." And now I'm depressed. When we got back to the room this afternoon Brian wanted to take a nap -- and he really just went to sleep! And that's all! That's how I know the whole trip down to the Bowery was a big fucking mistake!
He looks up at me. "No, you're wrong. It didn't ruin it. Because I understand what you were trying to do, Justin. You were trying to get me to react. To have some kind of cathartic moment that would make me all better. Right?"
"Something like that." When Brian says it, it sounds so dumb.
"But the thing is... I didn't feel any catharsis. I didn't feel anything. At first I was nervous, but then... nothing. Just... being numb. I... it's just too long ago, Justin. Too much time has passed and too much shit has happened to me. Besides," he says. "It isn't the PLACE that I need to get over. It's the people. The experience. The...." He stops. His face is so beautiful in the candlelight I almost can't look at it -- his glowing eyes and his long, sad lashes, and those perfect lips. "I'm fine," he repeats. "Believe me."
But I know that he isn't fine. I know it. But this is not the time to push him about it. He needs to come to that realization on his own, like I did with the bashing. I guess a catharsis is something you just can't force on someone. It just has to come -- like inspiration. Or love.
After dinner we walk around Little Italy a bit. He seems to know this area pretty well, too, but I'm not sure from when until he says, "This is a store owned by a cousin of Marc Gerasi. At least it was owned by him way back when."
"Marc Gerasi? Ron's cameraman? The big guy who followed us in London?"
And Brian nods. "His whole family ran this area. They still might. Who knows? But Marc got out of that life. He wanted something different. Which was why he was in London, coming back from Afghanistan for CNN."
We walk some more. It's a beautiful night and a nice neighborhood. It feels like an older New York, like something from the 1950's, with families walking home from dinner at one of the cafes, and big Cadillacs parked on the street, and people yelling from deep inside the old buildings.
Suddenly Brian stops dead in his tracks. He looks over at a small, boarded up storefront -- and an alley next to it. A garbage can is tipped over. He backs up and almost knocks me over.
And that's when I feel the prick of fear down my back. I feel myself in that alley. From my dream. I feel the brick wall against my face. Brian backs up again, pulling me back with him. His hand is cold as he squeezes mine. "Let's get the fuck out of here," is all he says.
Brian hails a cab and we head straight back to the hotel. When we walk in the door, Cynthia is working at her desk in the sitting room. No date with the actor tonight, I guess.
"Are you guys really taking Jimmy to a gay bar?" says Cynthia with amusement.
"Club," says Brian, rubbing his eyes. "Maybe we'll lose him in the crowd."
Cynthia laughs. "I doubt that!"
Brian looks over at Cynthia. "Why don't you come, too?"
"Me? Why do you want me to come?"
"Because then Peggy will come," explains Brian. "And Jimmy will be more under control if Peg is there, babysitting him -- instead of ME having to babysit him."
"That's a good idea, Brian!" I say.
"Damn right," he answers. "Plus, Jimmy will have at least one lovely female to dance with -- and keep him on the straight and narrow. Which is what he needs if he's going to get back with Tess."
"I don't know, Brian. Spending the evening hanging out with Peg while you guys have fun...." Cynthia frowned.
"Lawrence Olivier isn't available tonight?" asks Brian. He seems to love tweaking Cynthia about her new beau. "You could bring him -- if he isn't afraid of queers!"
"He can't come tonight, Bri."
"Too bad. Hey, Cynthia -- call Leslie. I want her to see what she's getting into if I ask her to come and work for me."
Cynthia laughs. "I can't think of a better introduction than for her to watch 'La Diva' in full Club Mode!"
"Don't call me that, Cynth!" Brian bitches.
"Why not? Everyone else does," Cynthia sasses back. I love Cynthia. She always calls Brian on his shit. "What time should I tell her to meet us?"
"Tell her to get a taxi over here to the hotel by 10:00. I'll reimburse her -- a business expense."
"Not until 10:00?" asks Cynthia. "That seems awfully late, Brian. And you have 'Good Morning, America' tomorrow. Early!"
Brian shrugs. "I wasn't planning on sleeping tonight, anyway," he says, glancing at me. "And the clubs don't get going until late, even on a Sunday night."
"Maybe Jimmy will poop out before midnight?" I suggest.
"Let's hope so," Brian replies. "And in the meantime...." Brian slips his hand down the front of my tan chinos, tugging me into the bedroom.
Brian slams and bolts the door behind him. "Just a precaution. I wouldn't want Jimmy to bring the entire cast of 'Cabaret' in here to watch OUR performance."
"What performance is that?" I ask, backing up. Watching his face. His eyes. They have an odd glint in them.
"THIS one," he says, pushing me down on the bed roughly. Then he stands back and stares down at me. "Take off everything," he says.
"Okay, but I..." I start to get up to hang up my shirt.
"I said -- now!"
And I unbutton my shirt and toss it on the floor. Then I pull off my shoes and socks and slip off my chinos and kick them off onto the floor. I hesitate for a moment -- and then I slide my white briefs off. I hold them in my hand. "You want to get rid of these for me?"
Brian grabs the briefs out of my hand. He puts them up to his face. "Not bad. Fresh, but still needs a little seasoning." He drops the briefs on the floor and bends over me. I reach up to unbutton his shirt, but he slaps my hand away. He holds my wrists together, up above my head, and attacks my mouth, my neck. He nips at me. Licks at me. He lets go of my hands. I try to open up his shirt again, but he pushes away my hand again.
He takes out the foil and the tube of lube that I brought from Pittsburgh. The Super Glide. He shoves it up me. He's still got all his clothes on and I'm completely naked.
"Hold your legs up," he orders. I pull my legs up to my chest, spreading them slightly. "Higher!" I pull them higher, until my knees are almost up to my ears. Brian opens up his pants and takes out his cock. It looks obscene, somehow, sticking out of his black pants when the rest of him is completely clothed. The sight of it almost makes me come.
He rips open the package and sheaths his dick, sliding on more of the Super Glide. Then he pauses for a second, making me anticipate -- and then he plunges in, knocking all the air out of me. I open my mouth to yell, to protest, to call for help, to ask for more -- but his mouth is already there, sucking the words out of me.
His cock works me like a piston. I have to let go of my legs and grip the bed so I won't pass out. And Brian holds my legs up, griping them tightly, spreading them even more as he fucks the living shit out of me.
I finally come, shooting all over his good Dior Homme shirt and the same expensive wool pants that he put on this morning to go to brunch with me and Jimmy. But he doesn't care. He's literally pounding my ass and I can't breathe. And Brian isn't breathing either -- he's gasping now. And he comes with a shudder. I feel his hips jerk. And he takes a deep breath, finally.
And then he pulls out, stands up, and walks into the bathroom, turning on the shower.
And I just lie on the bed, trying to make my eyes focus. Trying to understand what Brian is thinking. If anything.
At 10:30 we all pile into the limo -- me and Brian, Cynthia and Leslie, and Jimmy and Peg. Brian told me to dress up a little, since we were in New York City, so I wear my black leather pants and boots and a new gold silk shirt that Brian bought me back in the Pitts. Brian has changed into one of his more 'casual' Armani suits -- midnight blue, with a silvery shimmer to it, with an ivory-colored silk shirt and no tie. Next to Brian, Jimmy looks positively Middle America in his Perry Ellis outfit. Of the girls, Leslie looks the most 'New York' -- she's got on a black dress that looks very 1950's, very Audrey Hepburn. Cynthia has on a nice blue dress -- it looks good with her blonde coloring. See -- I AM learning something about fashion from hanging around Brian and Emmett! Peggy is wearing a plaid skirt and a sweater that makes her look like a school teacher. The poor woman is clueless!
When we get out of the limo, the doorman's eyes bug out when he sees Brian Kinney and Jimmy Hardy. There is a line of people waiting -- but he ushers us right into the club. Nice to be a celebrity -- I could get used to this!
The club reminds me of Babylon, except much more vast. There seem to be lots of levels and lots of different areas, sort of like some of the clubs in London. Brian has been here before, obviously. He looks around and points to a stairway to the left which leads to a quieter lounge. "They play jazz there and the drinks are more expensive. It's for the older queers who get a headache downstairs," he explains. "Main room is the disco. I think there's another level that you get to through the back entrance," Brian points through the crowd on the dance floor. "And there's some kind of arcade and video room downstairs. They show continuous porn loops. Lots of fun."
"Where's the backroom?" I ask. It's a logical question to ask Brian.
"Haven't you ever heard of Rudy Giuliani, Justin?" Brian says. "A lot of clubs and bars in the Times Square area have closed outright, and the rest are being very careful. You can find plenty of action in the more private places if you want to, but New York has cracked down tight on the bigger clubs. And on the drugs, too. Which is just as well, because I'm on the wagon for both of those things."
"Permanently, I hope," I say, taking his arm and wrapping it around my waist.
"Yes, dear," Brian smirks back.
"It's too loud in here!" Peggy is complaining already.
"I think it's groovy!" says Jimmy. "Come on, Cindy! Let's shake our booties!" And Jimmy grabs Cynthia and heads for the main floor.
"Groovy?" I say to Brian.
"At least he didn't grab ME. Or YOU. So be thankful." Brian watches Jimmy making himself very obvious as he heads for the middle of the pile dancers. Even in a gay club, filled to the brim with gorgeous men, Jimmy still has to be the 'star' -- always the center of attention. It's hard to tell whether Cynthia is having fun or if she's mortified. She just keeps giggling and covering her face with her hands as Jimmy 'dances' like he has ants in his pants. And all the boys are whooping it up around them, cheering and shaking their asses -- which just encourages Jimmy even more.
"Let's get something to drink," says Brian. He escorts me and Leslie over to the bar, while Peggy, her face very sour, trails behind us. Leslie takes an apple-flavored martini, while Brian and I have sparkling water with a lime twist. Peggy gets a big umbrella drink -- something that has big chunks of fruit in it and is an unappetizing blue color.
"Are we having fun yet?" Brian asks Leslie.
"I'm doing fine," she replies. "I don't know if Cynthia can say the same thing, though!" And we all watch Jimmy's attempts to 'dance' -- while poor Cynthia tries to follow along.
"I think you should cut in and save her, Brian," I suggest.
"No fucking way!" Brian snorts. "Remember what you said about encouraging Jimmy? Besides, I didn't come here to dance with HIM!" Brian stares down into my eyes and I feel all tingly.
I watch the action on the main floor while Brian talks to Leslie. He's feeling her out about going to work for him. I think she'd be perfect. She can run an office AND act as a personal assistant when Brian needs one. Only Cynthia would better. Or ME. But neither of us are available -- yet. But there's always the Summer -- and Christmas Break. And Spring Break....
"Omigod! Hey!" says a voice. I look up. It's Marty, the blond kid we gave the ticket to at 'Cabaret.' He's standing with another twink, a dark, curly-haired kid in jeans. Both guys have already lost their shirts. Marty introduces me to his friend, Glenn. "Glenn's boyfriend is a bartender upstairs, otherwise we'd never get in!" he exclaims. He points over to the bar. "That's Brian Kinney," he tells his friend.
Glenn's eyes bug out as he takes in Brian. "I didn't believe you, Marty!" he breathes. He turns to me. "He's such a liar! When he said that Brian Kinney gave him a ticket to the show -- well, I thought he was dreaming! We were both at the promo party here at this club! We are HUGE fans of Brian's!"
"Are you guys going to dance? You HAVE to dance!" says Marty. I think he's more than a little tweaked.
"Maybe later," I say. "We're here with Jimmy Hardy."
"Jimmy Hardy! Where?" the guys practically shout, looking around.
"Over there." I point to where Jimmy is wiggling to the thumping beat in the middle of the floor and Cynthia is struggling just to stay upright in the surge of bodies.
"What's HE doing HERE?"
"Research," smirks Brian, moving over from talking to Leslie and slipping his arm around my waist.
Marty stares at Brian and takes a couple of deep breaths. "HelloMisterKinneyrememberme? I'mMartyandthisismyfriendGlennandyougavemetheticketatStudio54lastnight. Remember?"
"Sure," say Brian. "I remember. Hi."
"Would you like to dance with us, Justin?" asks Glenn, the dark-haired guy. He's kind of cute. But I'm not at all interested. Who would be interested in some twink when you've got Brian Kinney? I mean, let's be real!
"Maybe later," I say. And the two of them head back to the dance floor. I see them working their way over to where Jimmy is, watching him and trying to get his attention.
"Think Jimmy will pick up his own twink here, Brian? One of those two might make a good 'starter' boy-toy for Jimmy."
Brian guffaws. "I don't think so, Justin. Jimmy doesn't need a twink. He needs a big, nasty Leather Daddy. Because Jimmy Hardy is a bigger nelly bottom than Emmett Honeycutt -- and I ought to know!"
"Jesus, Brian!" I start laughing so hard I almost drop my glass of water.
"I know. Your illusions are shattered, I'm sure."
"Not at all, Brian. I was just thinking -- poor Tess!"
Brian shakes his head. "Really."
Suddenly Cynthia comes skidding over to the bar and Brian catches her as she sags against him. "Good God! I NEED a drink! Now!"
"One vodka martini," Brian tells the bartender. "And here -- drink this first." Brian hands her his sparkling water and she gulps it down.
"Jimmy Hardy is a fucking madman!" Cynthia spews. "I could NOT get away from him!"
And right on cue, Jimmy comes trotting over. He's sweating and his eyes look a little weird. Brian narrows his gaze at him. "Jimmy, are you tweaked? What did you take?"
"I don't know! But some nice gentleman said I'd LOVE it!" he giggles.
"Jesus Christ, Jimmy! Don't you know better than to take something from someone you don't know? Here." Brian takes my water and shoves it at him. "Drink it. Justin, get some more water. You'll get dehydrated and then it'll be a fucking trip to the ER! Is that what you want, Jim? That would be a great ending to the weekend."
"You're SOOOO cute, Bri, when you worry about me. Isn't he so CUTE?" Jimmy sucks down the water with one hand, while trying to paw at Brian with the other. Meanwhile, Cynthia moves over to the other side of Leslie and Peg, who are standing together at the bar. She rolls her eyes in Jimmy's direction. She just wants to get away from Jimmy Hardy.
"Looks like you've lost your dancing partner, Jimmy," I laugh.
"No big loss. Cindy's a nice person, but I feel like a dork out there with a GIRL!" Jimmy smiles that famous Hardy Grin, but his eyes are all unfocused. "Come ON! I want someone HOT to dance with!" He grabs at Brian's hand.
"Forget it, Jimmy. I'm NOT your date!"
"But you're my movie boyfriend! That's almost the same thing!" Jimmy argues.
"It's nothing like the same thing. And don't you forget that."
Jimmy sets down the water glass and suddenly seizes my elbow. "Justy! I guess it's you and me, kid! Let's groove!"
And before I can stop him, Jimmy is dragging me onto the dance floor. But he isn't dancing all goofy this time, the way he was with Cynthia. No, he's grinding against me and his hard-on is more than apparent, pressing against my leather pants. And as much as I don't want to react to him, my cock is taking notice of the grinding and the feeling of his hand on my ass.
"Hey, Jimmy Hardy!" says a guy moving next to us. "Way cool!"
"I'm rehearsing for a new part!" Jimmy shouts, practically humping me.
"What part is that, Jimmy? 'America's Boy Next Door Becomes the Boy in the Backroom'?" I say. And I don't mean to be funny.
"Don't play coy with me, Baby Boy," Jimmy grins. "I liked watching the two of you. And you liked me watching, didn't you, Justy?"
"In your dreams, Jimmy," I tell him.
Jimmy's breath feels hot against my ear. "It doesn't have to be. I'd like to watch you two again. And maybe some other variations. Why not? It could be fun. Brian has more than enough dick to go around, that's for sure!"
"Shut up, Jimmy."
"Come on, Justy. I know you do other guys. And I know you and Brian do other guys together. I know a lot!" he whispers.
I pull back and glare at Jimmy. "That was a long time ago. And we're exclusive now. Just ask Brian."
"Sure, this week. But I know Brian. When he gets back to L.A. and he gets... restless that'll end soon enough. Be real, kid! Why don't you just come back to the room with me tonight. The three of us. Come ON! It'll be fun!" And Jimmy tries to stick his hands down the back of my pants.
"I don't think so," I say, my voice like ice.
"Oh, come on, Justy. You're so hot! I want you to fuck me. I know you want to! And it's not like you wouldn't do me in a minute if you thought Brian wouldn't find out! Because you would!" He pauses. "Like you did Ronnie."
I stop dead on the dance floor. "What did you say?"
"Like you and Ron. I told you -- I know a lot."
"That's a fucking LIE!" I yell. A couple of guys turn around and look at us with interest and I can already read the fucking blind items in tomorrow's gossip column in my imagination!
"Keep your voice down, kid," says Jimmy. "Okay, then. You didn't do a thing. Not a thing. Don't worry. I won't repeat it. I won't tell a soul."
But I turn and walk off the dance floor like a fucking zombie. I look back and Marty and Glenn, the two twinks, have moved over and are dancing happily with Jimmy. Shit! It's bad enough that Brian knows about... what I did with Ron. And that Ron has that video of it. But if Jimmy knows about it too -- then there's no telling who else knows... But I can't think about that now. I just can't.
"Brian. Let's leave. Please." He's leaning against the bar next to Cynthia. He's taken off his Armani jacket and undone the top buttons of his shirt. I put my arms around him and bury my face against his shoulder.
Brian pulls my face up and frowns. "What's the matter? The night is just getting started."
"Please? Can't we go?"
"Is Jimmy freaking you out?" asks Brian. "Is he hitting on you? Because if he is, just tell me and I'll go and kick his ass all over that fucking dance floor. Jimmy loves trying to get a rise out of people." Brian puts his left arm around me and hugs me to him. "Besides we haven't gotten to dance yet."
And although I try to resist, Brian pulls me out to the floor and spins me around. A lot of the guys are whooping again to see Brian Kinney on their dance floor. I look around, but I don't see Jimmy. Maybe he left with the two twinks and went back to his suite for that threesome he's been looking for. Or maybe he just fell into a hole and was swallowed up, never to be seen again. He and Ron. And everyone else in the world except for me and Brian.
They are playing some Pet Shop Boys song that keeps repeating, "I love you! I love you!" And that's all I can think about right now. All I want to think about right now. Just me and Brian. I want to forget everyone else and lose myself. Because I'm leaving tomorrow. Leaving New York. Leaving Brian. The weekend has been too good. And now my mind is getting all dark and cloudy. The club seems full of ominous smoke and gloom.
"What's the matter with you, Fiend?" says Brian. "Why are you crying?" He wipes my tears away on the sleeve of his ivory silk shirt.
"It's too smoky in here," I sniff. "Something is getting in my eyes."
"Something is going to get into the rest of you later," he replies, leaning against me. "So don't let anything bother you. Don't cry. I meant it when I said that I wasn't planning to sleep tonight. It's just you and me all night long. And you'll be out in Los Angeles before you know it. The arrangements are all made. We'll go out on the boat and we'll sail and sail until no one can find us. Okay?"
"Okay," I whisper.
"I love you." And the words of the song and what Brian is saying whirl together in my head and I now I see nothing but light.
Continue on to "Deb & Vic's Excellent Adventure -- Part 1", the next chapter.
©Gaedhal, April 2003.
Updated April 9, 2003.