In the waiting area across from Cynthia’s desk, Justin sat in a plush chair, glanced at his watch. Almost four.

Working at her computer, Cynthia felt Justin watching her from across the room. She smiled, got a return. So dazzling. What a waste of manhood. Well, not to Brian.

“I should tell him you’re here.”

“No, don’t. I’m an hour early and I don’t want to bother him.”

Cynthia’s phone rang. She answered, “Kinney’s office. Who? Well, I left his name with you,” she frowned, drummed long nails on the desk. “Alright.” She hung up, called to Justin, “I have to go out to the lobby for a minute. Be right back.”

“Okay,” Justin nodded then picked through his backpack for a sketchbook to occupy his time.

Moments later, a gangly young guy with a laptop under his arm and wearing camouflage pants and black tee shirt strolled into the office, looked around, spoke with the soft clarity of a pediatrician. “Do you work here?” He walked over, sat next to Justin.

Justin scrutinized the longish, wavy dark hair, wire-rimmed glasses on an average face. “No, I’m just waiting for somebody. Cynthia had to leave for a minute.”

“Yeah. I left her in the lobby with the other secretary,” Gangly leaned close, snooped at Justin’s sketch. “Artist, hunh?”

“More like an art student,” Justin shut the pad. Who WAS this guy?

“I’m into computers myself,” Gangly opened the laptop, ran his hand across the edge like it was a love interest, powered it up. On screen, a little digital dog tore digital holes through the blank screen as a man’s audio voice hollered “Bad Dog!” Gangly drank in Justin’s bright eyes and chuckles. “Like it? It’s a screensaver called Bad Dog. I can burn you a copy.”

“Thanks, but I’d need a computer first. That is amazing. How someone thought that up.”

Gangly powered-off, closed the laptop, propped an elbow on it and parked his chin on a raised hand. “You’ve got access to a lot of art equipment, hunh?”

“So?” Justin dropped his chin, eyes up and mildly suspicious.

“I’ll pay you for some work, if you’re interested.”

Justin shook his head, surprised,“We don’t even know each other.”

“Chad Parker. UCLA. On break for a couple weeks,” he extended a hand.

“Justin Taylor. Pittsburgh Fine Arts,” Justin shook his hand. “What kind of work?”

“We can talk more later. Right now…I’m supposed to see this Brian Kinney guy. You know where his office is?”

“Just down the hall,” Justin pointed, watched Chad jump up and hike that direction. “Wait. You can’t-”

“Thanks. You can leave your number with my aunt Cynthia, if you’re interested.”

Justin debated over chasing Chad, decided to let Brian deal with him. Some extra cash sounded good and Chad was related to Cynthia. Justin looked down at his sketchpad, folded and tore off a square of cover corner, scribbled a quick note.

Brian barely flinched from the chair behind his desk when Chad blocked his doorway.

“Who the fuck are you, and how did you get past security?”

“I AM your security, I think. Cynthia sent me. I take it you’re Mr. Kinney?”

“And you’re Chad. Third year UCLA. Did the airlines lose your luggage?” he eyed the urban-subversive wear.

“No,” Chad shrugged with innocent honesty. “I usually travel light and keep it with me.”

Ooookaaaay. An uninsultable. “So you’re a security agent.”

“War driver, to be more accurate.”

“A terrorist?” Brian’s face twisted.

“LAN jack.” That got a dead stare. “Computer hacker?” Success.

“How much did Cynthia tell you?” Brian waved toward the chair beside his desk.

“She said you’d explain,” Chad sat down, “But nobody calls me unless they have a system security leak, so unless you have something to add. . . .”

“Qualifications?”

Chad set his laptop on Brian’s desk, opened it, started up. He pulled a small black cigarette-pack sized item, plugged it into the laptop. “Antenna,” he briefed, set the unit on the desk, worked the keyboard and read the screen. “Right now, you have three access points open and running on the second floor…one down the hall.”

Brian rose, came around the desk. Chad leaned back to give Brian a better view of four computer ID codes listed on screen. Brian’s jaw tightened. He couldn’t decipher the codes and it burned him to admit it. “Explain.”

Chad highlighted one code, ran fingers on the keyboard until the screen filled with a contract. “Crater and Sons. One of yours?” Chad looked up.

Brian gripped the back of Chad’s chair as he read the screen. “How did you do that?”

“Somebody down the hall is WiFi’ng…uh…using a wireless system with a factory password. I just tapped in and accessed your database. I could’ve done it just as easily from a car parked outside.”

“Someone inside is sending out our files?”

“Not really. Most people are ignorant about wireless laptops and don’t realize they’re being tapped.”

“Can you find and fix the problems?”

“Sure. As soon as we come to an agreement on pay.”

“You’ll be working only for me,” Brian lifted a brow, both eyes wide.

“I HAVE done this before, Mr. Kinney,” Chad responded with a steady gaze.

Brian was impressed with this easy-going geek, but troubled by his fast access of guarded files. He wondered who else was aware of it. And for how long. His musing ended when Chad clapped the laptop shut.

In the near-empty underground parking lot, Brian pulled the Jeep door shut, leaned over the passenger side and grabbed Justin for a serious greeting kiss.

“So did you get a lot done today?” Brian nuzzled Justin’s ear.

“Took Vic home…saw Emmett…got my first paycheck from Michael.”

“Congratulations. We should celebrate.”

“Maybe a small celebration. Very, very small,” Justin wrinkled his nose.

Brian paused, sensed a good time to change the subject. “So what are your plans for tonight?”

“Nothing. Why?”

“I thought we could have dinner…go to Babylon.”

“Are you asking me on a date?” Justin smiled, raised his brows.

Brian withdrew his hold, started up the Jeep. “I don’t do dates.”

Justin grinned and folded his arms over his chest. “I can’t see why not. It’s just another four-letter word.” He sneaked a look at Brian’s stony face as the Jeep left the lot for the street.

“So?” Brian finally broke the silence.

“So what?”

“Yes or no?”

“Yes,” Justin said very matter of fact, added a flip, “Brian Kinney asked me for a date.”

“Your ass could use some color,” Brian side-eyed.

“Don’t tease me.”

“We’ll discuss that later. Are you going to Emmett’s or coming to the loft?”

Justin shifted, cleared his throat. “I have my own place now.” His eyes caught a traffic light coming too fast. “Red light!”

Brian hit the brakes hard, rocking their bodies forward. His jaw flinched despite his calm face. “When did all THAT happen?”

“Can we just go to the loft? Talk about it there?”

“What for? So you found your own place. Good.”

The rest of the ride was in silence.

The loft shower. Where the actual shower was usually a mere afterthought. Not tonight. Justin noted that when he stepped in, Brian stepped out. So he stepped back out and stood dripping, watching Brian towel off.

“You haven’t asked me why I left Em’s.”

“Because fuchsia isn’t your color?” Brian tossed his towel at Justin and left.

Justin caught the towel, quick-dried, wrapped the towel around his waist and stood in the doorway, watched Brian zip up his pants, grab a shirt. “I thought we needed our space. After…everything. Talk to me, Brian. I’m feeling like I did something to piss you off.”

Brian stopped buttoning, sorted answers. I thought you wanted us together. Fucking. Sleeping. Waking up, sharing coffee, eating take-out, showering, talking…talking? NOW who’s the one with the fucking fairytale. “I guess I was a little surprised by the late notice.”

“I just signed the papers today.”

“So where is it?”

“You could find out anytime you want, but I’d rather you wait.”

“Oh. The secret place to run to,” Brian snorted and skipped down steps to the kitchen. Go ahead. Start shutting me out. I need a goddamn drink.

“Brian,” Justin moved to the edge of the glass doors and glared, “I’m not taking any more shit about my running out. Every time I leave doesn’t mean I’m running away. Maybe that’s how I deal with things. How I make time to put things together before saying something I can’t take back, or doing something…dumb,” he dropped his eyes, shuffled a foot on the doorstep. “Maybe I just want some control in my life. And not feel like I owe somebody something.”

Brian had poured his drink, let it sit. Nothing worse than feeling indebted and out of control. So he conceded his understanding by approaching Justin slowly, head tilting back to keep eyes linked to those on the top step…slipped his arms around Justin’s hips.

Justin draped his arms over Brian’s shoulders and kissed his upraised forehead. “Is that so wrong?”

“Nothing wrong with getting your needs met.”

“What about yours?”

“You’ll stay here once in awhile?”

“That’s back to MY needs.”

Brian wet his lips, hooked his thumbs under the towel, pulled until it fell to a pile at Justin’s feet, and gained new appreciation for the convenience of this top stop.

Justin focused on Brian’s sensual mouth on him. Taking him. Draining him. It made him melt, float, dream. One hurdle cleared. Now on to the next.

The Jeep squeezed into a spot in Babylon’s lot. Brian got out. Justin did the same. They met at the rear bumper and stood side-by-side, reading the Babylon sign. Justin moved first, slowly riding an arm around Brian’s waist, eyes searching Brian’s.

Brian looked into Justin’s eyes. He could stop or start it right now. Walk in alone. Or as part of a couple. He wrapped his arm around Justin’s shoulders and smiled.

Walking to the door, faces forward, they couldn’t see their expressions change. Neither was sure what to expect.

Brian and Justin walk together into Babylon.

Song: “Crazy Little Thing Called Love” by Queen

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