Alone with Scott.  Not as bad as Brian alone with Scott.  After Justin shut the door, he ran a mental list – We’re adults…This is business…

“So you’ve got a playroom of your own,” Scott grinned.

Okay. So ONE of us is an adult.  Justin turned to see him slouched on a chair, one leg bent, the other stretched long so his jeans pulled tight leaving little to imagine.  “There’s a printout on the table. I asked for blueprints, but Michael didn’t have any.”

“Novotny?”

“You know Michael?”

“I know this is supposed to be the Novotny job.  So you’re hooked up with HIM now?”

Sparked the chest-buster scene from Alien.  “No, I’m still with Brian.  We’re working together and this is our new office.”

“How IS the old sonuvabich?” Scott snatched Justin’s paper.

“Busy.”  Keep to business.

Scott shook his head.  “You know what they say about all work. I’ll be sure to remind him.”

Shit.  Anything but that.  “Are YOU doing this job?”

“Just the estimate,” Scott saw Justin smile, “But I’ll throw a bid in for the helluvit,” eyed the paper and missed Justin’s freezer glare. “This is pretty good scale.  YOU do this?”  He stood and panned the room, matching it to the drawing.  Impressive work was second only to an impressive fuck.

Justin felt a level of sincerity, a noticeable change as Scott slid into work mode and roamed to check the lighting, wall outlets. “Yeah.”

“Ever think about mechanical drafting?”

“Not really,” Justin relaxed, barely aware he was following Scott around the room.  “I’m pretty satisfied with where I’m at.”

Sensing Justin’s lower guard, “You should try a change,” Scott smiled beneath intense eyes. “You might find out you like it.”  That’s it.  Little closer.  Nothing against Kinney, but all you have to do is say so, and I’ll let you sample some real heat.

Justin stopped still.  Fuck.  He’s doing it AGAIN.  On purpose?  Or natural habit?  Regardless… “Is this gonna take long?  Because I really have to get going,” Justin checked his watch for effect.

“Few more minutes,” Scott turned off the look. Still not ready to play?  Your loss.  He took a small screwdriver from his shirt pocket and removed an outlet plate - What fucking crackhead did this wiring.

Seated at his desk, Brian tented the front of his white tee and fanned some air over his sweaty chest, sipped wine from a plain glass then leaned out for a look when he heard the Loft door.  “How did it go?”

“Okay,” Justin paced over, grumbled, “Why’s it so hot in here?” He stopped beside Brian, glanced at RegionAir’s home page onscreen, the open front window, curtains dead still against traffic noise.

“Fucking air is out.  Maintenance says they’ll have it fixed by tomorrow.  At least YOU were in a cooler part of town.”

“You think?” Justin watched Brian swivel to face him with the okay-spill-it raised brow.  “Scott Turner showed up to do the estimate.”

“No doubt with his usual charm.”

“He said he might bid on the job, but nothing definite.”

“He’s one of the best in the area.”

“Not ALL areas,” Justin added a touch of bored sophistication, “He came on to me. But I don’t go for the shallow, macho, fuck-anything type.”

“I guess that means my days are numbered.”

“You’re not that shallow.”

Brian reached out, took Justin’s hips and drew him between splayed legs. “Do I detect a note of discord?”

Justin towered, set his hands on Brian’s shoulders.  “It’s like he stays one step ahead of trouble while anybody around him gets caught right up IN it.”  Not to mention how you two act when you get together.

Brian locked his hands behind Justin’s thighs. “I wouldn’t worry about it.  There’s no way Mikey can afford him.”  

 “You’ll never guess who we got to do the work,” Michael beamed at Brian.  They were standing at one end of the Comic Shop counter, Justin at the other end beside Brian’s open briefcase. “Scott Turner.”

Justin slammed the case shut loud enough to draw looks.  “Sorry.” 

Michael continued unfazed as Brian slouched on an elbow and Justin rustled through a comic.  “We really lucked out on that.  He’s established and credible, so the Bank won’t give us a hassle.”

“ONE good thing,” Justin dead-toned.

“That IS a lucky break,” Brian casually agreed.  Note to self: check out Scott’s real angle.

“He says he can start next week.”

Justin’s eyes narrowed.  “He’s doing it himself?  Not sending a work crew?”

“It isn’t Turner Electrical. They only do big commercial jobs.  But Ben’s student…the one who owns that new contractor service?…he called Scott and worked out a deal so good, they must be doing it under the table.”

“Scott gets it where he can,” Brian tongued his cheek.  Revised note to self: check out Ben’s student.

Justin reasoned to Michael, “Technically, he’s working for YOU, so you’re handling all the details, right?”

“Pretty much,” Michael answered Justin’s satisfied nod, then back to Brian, “But I made sure he knows you have final say, so you should spend a couple days with him just to get things started.”

“I’ll be ready when HE is.”

Justin cleared his throat and slapped the comic on the counter.  Thanks, Mikey.

Two weeks later… 

On the drive back from WaveLight, Justin flipped through a CD case and considered Queen when Brian mentioned, “Mikey called while you were at Graphics.  Scott’s finally ready to start.”

“About time.”

“That beats the standard formula…take what they say, multiply by two and add three.”

“When?”

“I’m going over to meet him after I drop you off and change clothes.”

“Today?” Justin flipped to Nine Inch Nails, lowered his chin, rolled eyes up.  “I thought we were doing that together.”

“Don’t you have plans tonight?”

Justin winced, “Daphne’ll spit on my grave if I cancel out again.”

“And Scott might tack on two more weeks if we don’t nail him NOW.”  Brian glanced aside at Justin’s indecisive lip bite.  “Don’t you think Mikey and I can handle it?”

“Mikey’ll be there?” Justin side-eyed.  Like having a minnow to fend off a shark.  Still, he could be one tough minnow when it came to Brian.

“He’s the money.  If you want to be there for creative advice, that’s up to YOU.”

Justin exhaled slowly.  “Just drop me off.  You can fill me in when you get home.”  Justin watched Brian’s brows rise, lusty grand smile.  Lightened his own mood.  Good.  Hold that thought. 

A new eatery on the North Side.  Lots of young folks crowded around small tables of pizza and soda pitchers, lite rock thumping in the background.  Daphne, in a wild-print sleeveless tank chatted to Justin, in a white tee and leaning on crossed arms, wristwatch in sight.

“…and I heard they have the most awesome pizza, so I just HAD to try it, but you know how it is…the personal taste thing…so I can’t wait to get your opinion.” She waved a hand in front of his face.  “Are you listening to me?  Don’t answer, ‘cause I know you’re not and don’t think I haven’t seen you check your watch like five hundred times.”

“Sorry, Daph.”  Busted.

“Brian.”

“No, it’s not,” he leaned back, sneaked an eye on her smug face.  “Well SORT of.  It’s just that…there’s this guy -”

“Is he hot?” She dropped on her arms, saw Justin blush and grinned,  “Mmm.  Totally.”

Justin recovered with a flip, “It’s not like I don’t notice other guys.”

“Only when they notice Brian.  That’s the risk you take with a hottie.  But you’re a hottie, too,” she leaned close, big smiley reminder.  What’re best friends FOR.  “You know?  The only thing you talked about lately is work.  You should get away for awhile.”

“Like Vermont? Don’t remind me.”

“With BRIAN, you jerk.  TELL him.”

“Maybe after the office is up and running.”  Not making that play-vs-work mistake again.

“So where’s he at now?”

“At the Comic Shop.  Working with that guy I just told you about.  Thought I’d never say this, but I’m glad Mikey’s with him.”

They were startled by a robust, “Hi, Babies!  Isn’t THIS a surprise,” as Emmett swished a wave, Torso shopping bag swaying from his arm.

“Hi, Em!” Daphne shined.

“Here,” Justin pointed to an empty chair as Emmett turned back, arm flagging.  “You brought a date?” His smile drooped when Em sat down, leaving clear view of Hunter and Michael approaching.

“Don’t I wi-ish,” Emmett drolled oblivious.  “But when your date card’s like mine?  Pizza with friends takes on new meaning.”  As if on cue, a waitress rushed a large pie onto their table.  “My.  That DOES look yummy.”

“Can you bring us three more glasses?” Justin asked.  She nodded and left just as Hunter and Michael arrived.

“Hey,” Michael greeted Justin and Daphne.  “Hunter told me all the hot young things would be here.”

“You’re too sweet,” Emmett patted Michael’s hand.

Hunter spied Justin, whispered to Michael, “Can we sit somewhere else?” then noticed Daphne and ogled a smile despite her plastic return.

“Is Brian here, too?” Justin craned past Michael.

“No, he and Scott are still at the Shop.”

Daphne caught Justin’s tension, quickly stood with a cheery, “Why don’t you guys sit HERE?  Justin and I were just leaving.” She met his shocked look with a wide-eyed GO-with-it, watched him slowly stand.

“But your pizza just GOT here,” Emmett’s brow crinkled.

“The service was really slow,” she twisted a frown, “And I’ve got a date tonight.” Then to Justin, “Come on,” grabbed his hand, gave a smiley, “Enjoy the pizza. Bye.”

“See ya,” Justin shot as Daphne whisked him past Hunter.

“Who’s the babe?” Hunter grinned at Michael, got flared eyes back.

“Who’s the nerd?” Daphne glanced past Justin’s shoulder, released his hand on their way out.

“That’s Hunter and he’s untrainable.  Daph, you didn’t have to do that.”

“Do what?  After I leave you at the Comic Shop, I’ll have extra time to get ready for my date, and I’ll make HIM take me out to eat.”

“You’re an idiot.”

“For true love.”

Justin watched her flip back her hair as she went out the door.  Someday, you’ll find it.  And when you do, I hope we’ll still make time for each other.

Brian in jeans and a black tank tee, found the Shop fire door unlocked and Scott inside thumping down two rolls of thick white wire.

“If it isn’t the Queen of Liberty Avenue,” Scott snarked, walked over, extended a hand.

“And the Closet Queen of Boone County,” Brian matched, met halfway and their hands locked on forearms in non-traditional recognition, squeezed hard then dropped away.

“Since you came dressed to work -” Scott looked him over.

“What. The fuck. are you doing here?” Brian stood no-nonsense.

“Could always use a little extra cash,” Scott raised a brow.

“Sell me the Brooklyn Bridge.”

“A friend needed a favor…here I am.”

“What does it have to do with Michael Novotny?” Brian low-toned, watched Scott’s eyes, “Because he’s a good friend of MINE and I’d like to know.”

“Nothing to do with him,” Scott toughened.  “A man’s starting a business and doing it right…spending money to MAKE money, and making sure his reputation starts pretty.”

“Under the table?”

“Some people pay ten grand for a used truck but only put five on the title.”

“So you’re doing this for pocket change, a tax break, and sainthood,” Brian stared hard, unblinking.

Scott smiled.  Always admired Brian’s x-ray eyes.  “I’m working on a little project at home.  Problem is, I’m zoned for farming, so I need a variance. Puts me up against some genuine breeders – dairy men on both sides of my ranch.”

Better.  “What kind of project?”

“Private Clubhouse.”

Brian relaxed, satisfied, “And your new friend is connected to the local zoning board.”

“I choose my friends wisely.”

“Decent fuck?”

“Rates a plus eight, give or take a tenth.  Never turn down a bonus.  Speaking of which,” Scott pointed to another removed outlet, wires hanging free, “Go pull that wire so I can tell what’s going on without having to rip the whole fucking wall off.”

Brian dropped to a knee, “Reminds me of the first time we met.  We were…what?  Nine?  Ten?” he grabbed a wire and pulled slowly, glanced at Scott in similar stance fifteen feet down the wall.

“The Union Local Picnic,” Scott grinned, watched the wires.  “It was hate at first sight.”

They were both tall and gangly for their age, beyond a KEEP OUT – DANGER sign near a stream bordered by old electric poles with sagging dead wires.  Scott for adventure, Brian to be alone.

Scott was more bored, more verbal.  “Bet you can’t reach the top as fast as me.”

Brian wordlessly headed to a pole, stopped and shouted, “Say when.”

Scott stopped at his choice, smiled at its crossbeamed top and yelled, “Go!”

They shimmied fast up perilous rusty foot pegs, bare hands catching slivers, all the while spotting each other’s progress until they hit top at the same time.

They both looked down when they heard Claire shout, “I’m tellin’ POP!” and watched her dash through the trees to the main picnic area. 

Not sure what to expect, both boys hustled to the ground just as Matt Turner barreled through the trees and headed for Scott.  “Hey.  What’re you doing here?”

“Climbed to the top,” Scott said with a cocky raised chin.

Matt glowed, big smile, “Don’t bullshit me, boy.  Let me see ya’ do it again.”

Standing forgotten at his pole, Brian could hear Jack angerly shouting his name.  He took a last look at Scott halfway up the pole with Matt beaming and urging him on then slipped away so they wouldn’t see him take Jack’s wrath. 

“Shame it took twenty years to hook up again.” Scott saw his end of the wire move and grabbed it, “Hold up,” then paused and stared at Brian.  “I wanted to be a linesman, and I was looking for any excuse to climb that pole.  Why’d YOU do it?”

“If all you wanted was to climb that pole, you didn’t need ME as an excuse.  I had no idea what I wanted to be.  But whatever it was, I wasn’t about to let anybody beat me at it.”

Scott smiled a little evil, “Care to put that to a test?”

Justin barged in, drew attention with a low, “Hey,” eyed Brian, Scott.

“Back so soon?” Brian stood up.

“Daph had some things to do, so we cut it short.  Need any more help?”

“Yeah.  Grab us a couple beers from that cooler.” Scott nodded to a styro box on the table, stood and brushed off his hands.  “Help yourself, too.”

“Oh you’re too kind,” Justin grit a smile made only grittier by Brian’s amused expression and Scott’s leer.  He moved ice packs, dug out two bottles, twisted off caps and listened.

Brian leaned back on the wall beside Scott.  “So what did you have in mind?”

“Tonight.  Orgy pit.  Agree on one, split up, turn it on and wait.  Loser buys a round.”

Justin cleared his throat, tried to interrupt by handing Scott a beer – choke on it – and one to Brian – tell him to fuck off – leaned on the wall beside Brian to send positive vibes.  But it didn’t work.

Intrigued, Brian suggested to Scott, “Liberty?”

“Python.  New place that just opened southeast of Cleveland.  Game?”

No way to fight fire with reason, Justin anted up, eyed Scott and smiled, “Sure.  I’m game,” smiled at Brian in time to see a replay of the Vangard-internship-day look.

Scott’s smile split wide, “This just keeps getting better,” then he toasted to each and took a deep drink, set the bottle on the floor.  “I’m going down to get some hardware out of the truck.  Maybe get some work done before we lose the light.”

Justin watched Scott leave, saw Brian eye him with suspicion and had an afterthought.  “If you don’t think I should go -”

New place, new faces, no advantages, no preconceptions.  You got balls all right.  “Why not?”  Brian twisted back decided.  “Ever been to the Baths on your own?”

“No.  Haven’t even thought about it.”  For myself, though I often wondered about YOU.

“Half the fun is something different.  No strings, no promises.  When we walk in tonight, we’re individuals doing whatever comes natural, whatever feels good.  And don’t get hung up on what or who I’m doing, because I sure the fuck won’t worry about you.  That’s the OTHER half – the right to be as free and hot as you want, for yourself.”  Brian handed over the beer to let Justin drink first.

Justin accepted with a confident return smile.  At least I know a little more about why you sometimes go off  by yourself.

Scott broke the trance when he returned with a large brown paper bag, dumped it on the table.  Packaged outlets, electrical boxes, small white envelope he snatched and held up, “A little mood setter for later. Quality guaranteed,” slid it into his back pocket, reclaimed his bottle and lazed against the wall beside them.

“That’s generous, considering you’re buying the first round,” Brian grinned.

Scott answered with a deep chuckle.  All depends on how you define winning.

Justin was pumped by Brian’s giving him an edge over Scott.  Until realistic thought made his gut churn like the first night he shut the Loft door.  Fuck. I just challenged the two sexiest hunks to a pickup game.  The only thing that could’ve made this worse is having BEN in on it, too.

Three men in jeans, drinking beer, leaning on a wall…

…three men in thin white towels, mellow on brew and E, lit by Python’s dim blue - Brian slouched against a side wall, Scott against a pillar, Justin on a back wall between them.  Eyes on cruisers, on each other, surrounded by bodies writhing and pumping to the sounds of techno, pleasure and lust.  Show time.

Song: “Give It Up (Tony Moran Mix) by Kevin Aviance.

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