Friday night. Babylon unleashed. 

From “Proud”s uplifting finish right into the driving stomp of “Let’s Get It Right”, bodies danced with fearless energy.  More non-drag ladies in the mix tonight, drawn by the fun Ibizan atmosphere a cut above the local Lesbian hangout.   

Brian in his black sleeveless was sweaty, tired and due for a drink.  He swung down from the dance platform and shouldered through the crowd.  Felt a hand slide down his arm, another grope his cock.  Made him smile a still-got-it as he slid past the admirer without making eye contact and headed for the bar.

A Shirtless Single stepped aside with hope and a “Hey, Brian,” as Brian claimed the space with a Thanks-But-No-Thanks half smile.  The attentive young Bartender immediately dashed over with a beer bottle in one hand, fifth of whiskey in the other and wordless question.  Brian took the beer with a “Thanks”, casually glanced back and saw Brandon entertaining his own male harem – and eyeing HIM. 

Brian flipped a smiley salute that Brandon coolly answered with a grin and nod before changing focus.  Cured of rival mode and hardly interested in whom Brandon fucked, Brian chugged the beer and savored another profitable night.  At least the fucker drew a crowd. 

Michael drifted over, palmed sweat off a sideburn, leaned back against the bar to catch his breath.  “Whew.  Never thought I’d see it like this again.”

“Buy you a drink?”

“Beer.  And you better get one for Emmett, too,” Michael added as he watched Emmett

wearily maneuver their way.

Brian waved, got the Bartender’s attention, displayed four fingers and pointed to his bottle.

Michael noticed.  “Just one.”

“I take it you both still have dates lost out there.”

“Upstairs with Ted.  He’s showing off the new VIP Room.”  Michael locked eyes on Brian’s steady stare.  “What?”

“It’s not killing me that you all came as couples.”  Brian pulled his cell, handed it to busted-looking Michael.  “Now call Ted and tell him to get everybody’s asses down here before the beer goes flat.”

Michael glared, snatched the phone, turned and hunched over the bar as four beers plopped beside him.

Brian called and motioned, “Two more,” to the Bartender then grabbed a brew and held it out without looking.

Emmett accepted with a cheery, “You read my mind!”

“Yeah -” Michael slapped the cell shut, “- I hate when he does that,” and handed it back to Brian.

The remark flew over Emmett who drank deep then spun back against the bar and limp-tapped Brian’s arm.  “So tell me all about Australia!” with a dreamy, “…the uh -” Men. “…the uh hot -”  Men.  “…beaches…”

Brian grinned.  “Now ask me about the men before your brain explodes.”

Emmett eagerly bent close.  “So how WERE they?”

Michael drolled, “Like Calvin?”

Emmett countered, “Excuse me?  Brian told me to ask?”

Brian saved with, “The tour guide was exceptional.  Highly.  Exceptional,” looked at the stairway, “Speaking of Calvin…” and tilted his bottle toward Ted and Blake leading Calvin and Ben down.

“Hi, Baby!” Emmett yelled, waved and took off to intercept.

Michael watched Em, shook his head.  “I thought we’d all be above field play by now.”

“Not all of us were meant to settle for one and only,” Brian smiled.

“Is that so.”

Brian’s smile slipped and he diverted to a sip of beer.  Fuck I hate when he does that.

Michael flinched.  Shit.  Bad subject.  Quick.  Talk about something else.  “Did you hear any more on the house yet?”

Better.  Brian slouched sideways to face Michael and propped an elbow on the bar.  “I called my agent this morning.  The market’s slow right now and he wanted to know if I’d come down on the asking price.”

“Maybe you should think about it.  I mean…between the mortgage and taxes -”

“Mikey, it’s priced right where it should be,” Brian smiled, squeezed Michael’s arm and leaned close, “And the only thing I’d rather go down on is -”

In New York, Michael almost blurted but Ben cut in, “Brian.  The new addition looks fantastic,” as their group gathered  – Ben with an arm around Michael, Emmett hanging cozy on Calvin, Blake and Ted beside Brian.

Calvin looked up proudly at Emmett.  “This here very talented guy did all the fancy decorating, ain’t that right?”

“Well,” Emmett sheeped downcast eyes, but not for long.  “The truth is?  When Brian said Desert Oasis?”  And he proceeded in dramatic detail to Michael, Ben and Blake despite the need to shout over the thumpa-thumpa.

“Compliments of the House,” Brian briefly interrupted, handed beers to the captive three, had to turn almost completely around to find Ted.

Ted mumbled, “Thanks,” and accepted, eyes wandering, limbs pulled tight.

“Relax.  It’s a tax write-off.”

Ted smiled tense, eyes wide.  “You should have called and told us you’d be here tonight.  We could’ve…” he looked off with a shrug, “…planned dinner…”

“Theodore.”  Brian gripped Ted’s shoulder and lightly shook.  “I’m fine.  Are you listening?”  He watched Ted’s delayed side-nod.  “The Big C is history, Justin is finally out of the fucking Liberty Diner, Australia was fabulous and I managed to avoid all the deadliest creatures in the world except for the airline luggage handlers.”  He swiveled to snatch his bottle and tapped it to Ted’s. “Now drink up and party.  If it makes you feel any better, I’ll grab a date.  Which one?”  Brian arced his beer across the dance floor.  “Pick one.”

Ted snorted and shook his head, raised more genuine eyes and a lighter tone.  “I’M not picking for you.  Although…” Ted scrunched his brows, “…there was this one…” then smiled off in private carnal thought, “…really HOT guy…uh…” shook it out of mind and smiled sly at Brian.  “I think he wanted to hit on you but has to work up the nerve.”

“Oh?” Brian arched a brow in amusement.

“I could tell,” Ted slouched with an air of authority.  “He came up to me on the dance floor and started a little small talk about you.”

“Like what?”

“Oh…started slow with a few questions about Kinnetik, and if I thought you were a decent boss.”

“So he knew you worked for me.  Did you tell him we’re not hiring?”

“Bri..” Ted challenged, “He’s at Babylon on a Friday night and, I might add, dressed to kill and seems to be interested in only YOU.  Now what position would you say he’s after?”

Intriguing.  Okay, I’ll bite.  “Point him out.”

Ted squinted at the waving, gyrating mass and pointed, “There.” And  recanted.  “No.  I think…”

Monologue finished, Emmett noticed Ted’s pointing, left the Ben-Mikey-Blake discussion and stepped over to investigate.  “Teddy?  What’s going on?”

Just then, Ted saw a familiar face on the catwalk.  Lit for only seconds at a time in strobe light sweeps. “Up there.  That’s him.”

“Who?” Emmett looked up, caught the face on the second strobe and smiled.  “Oh.  Him.”

Brian’s smile went static as he stared.  Ivory skin, sandy hair in loose curls long on top, cropped close and neat at the neck.  Dark eyes under pale brows.  And a tall figure-skater’s body in a black wife-beater and low-slung jeans.

Ted looked at Em.  “You know who he is?”

Emmett stared up with imaginative fondness, “Just an incredible moth who I thought was attracted to my little flame,” came back to earth with an eye to Brian.  “But the fact is?   I think he’s been cruising you from a distance.”

“I thought so, too,” Ted brightened at the validation.

Emmett continued with a grandiose, “Sort of like Cyrano de Bergerac…only with a cuter nose, thank god…quietly seeking out someone close to the object of his desire.”

Brian darted another glance up before turning full attention to Emmett.  “You talked to him?”

“Not much.  He thought I worked for Kinnetik, and when he started asking about YOU, I got the message in bold, though not gaudy print…although bold is obviously not his style.”

“Neither is gay,” Brian flat-toned, looked up to see the empty rail.

“What?” Ted wide-eyed as Emmett edged, “Omigod.  You can tell?”

“I’ve been watching him on and off all night.  Whether it’s who we’re after, or what we’re up against, everybody looks.  All the cock and ass around…only a breeder in a gay bar would make it a point not to look.  Except at the munchers.”

“Forgive me for even thinking that someone who looks like him escaped your notice.” Ted leaned close.  “So who is he and what’s he doing HERE?”

Brian breathed out, scanned the crowd but couldn’t find him.  “I’ll call Horvath in the morning and ask him which rookie drew the short straw.”

“A cop?” Ted wrenched out.  “Shouldn’t we -”

“No we shouldn’t,” Brian firmed.  “He hasn’t done anything and we have no reason to – so to speak – expose him.  Just keep it to yourselves and don’t start a panic.  If they were out to bust anybody, they could’ve done it ten times over by now.”

Emmett ventured, “Then…what does he want with YOU?”

Still under analysis.  Brian pseudo-shrugged it off for the others’ sakes.  “He could be a closet case in search of a role model.”

“We could introduce him to Ben,” Emmett thought aloud, noticed Ted’s and Brian’s unblinking stares and floundered, “Or the Bartender.  Or…Big Hairy Al.”

Michael’s piercing, “Brian!” and smiley intrusion changed the drift.  “We were just discussing your house and came up with an idea.  Why not rent it out?” He looked back at Ben and Blake, his affirmative nodding coaxing synchronized response.

“As WHAT?” Brian reared back skeptically.  “A home for victims of Corporate downsizing?  A nudist camp?”

That got Emmett’s gleeful, “FABULOUS!  I know just the -”

Ben cut in, “A retreat,” noticed the Hunh?-looks from all but Mikey and Blake. “For writers or scholars who need a quiet, inspirational atmosphere to work…”

“A center of academic fellowship,” Ted’s eyes lit.  “For fifteen-hundred dollars a weekend.  Not to mention the publicity if any of them wins the Pulitzer.”

Blake leaned forward, “It would be a great place for some of our Twelve-Step meetings.”

Emmett pressed, “And what’s wrong with a center for the joys of au-naturele?…god knows what a long way it is to that tiny spot near West Palm Beach.”

Michael eyed Brian’s silence.  “Brian?  You’re an idea man.  So what’s going through YOUR mind?”

“Besides National Lampoon’s next sequel?”

A loud explosion burst from the bar.  Overpowered the music, clipped conversations, drove some to duck, others to look during the second it took from start to crashing finish. 

Brian arm-swept glasses and bottles aside, hopped onto the bar, swiveled and stared down at a metal rack, broken glasses in a puddle of booze from two shattered bottles.

The Bartender raised hands in surrender and rattled, “Sorry!  Sorry.  I bumped a rack.  I’ll clean it up.”

“Careful with the glass.”  Brian jumped to the floor and saw Ben wrapped around Michael’s back.  Both were stiff and pale.  Brian grabbed Michael’s arm.  “Are you okay?”

Michael’s eyes shifted slow.  “Yeah,” and he pulled away from Brian’s hand, pushed off Ben.  “Yeah.  Fine.  I just wasn’t expecting that.”  Then he noticed Emmett frozen against the bar, eyes blank.

Calvin shook Emmett’s shoulder.  “Easy, boy.  You look like you just seen a big ol’ cottonmouth on your pillow.”

Brian flattened against the bar as Michael skirted past to Emmett.  Then Ted was in his face, wide eyes glazed and words speeding.

“Don’t worry, Bri.  I’ll get this cleaned up.”

Blake was over Ted’s shoulder with a timid, “Ted…I think it’s under control.”

Ted snapped back, “I said I’ll take care of it!”  And he spun around, thundered down the bar.  Blake stared at Brian before wordlessly trailing Ted.

Ben edged next to Brian as they watched Michael and Calvin, Emmett nodding an okay devoid of usual flame.  The sound of shoveled glass cut through the music.  “Brian?  I think we’ll take off now.  We have an early flight up to Toronto.”

Brian detected ill ease.  “Say hi to the Munchers for me.”

“We’ll do that,” Ben nodded, moved past Brian and tapped Michael’s shoulder. “Michael?  Ready to go?”

“In a minute.”  He glanced at Ben’s urgent eyes, revised with a quick note to Em, “Sure you’re okay?”

“Must be my new Low Carb diet,” Emmett lightened then grinned at Calvin,  “Maybe a teeny little order of Liberty fries’ll ease the transition.”

“Don’t have to ask ME twice.  All this dancin’ has got me hungrier than a bear peekin’ through a fence at a trout farm,” Calvin answered, hooked Emmett’s arm, nodded a general, “We’ll see y’all later.”

Emmett tossed Michael a “Honey, you give those babies a big kiss from Auntie Em,” as he was towed away.

Michael felt Ben’s arm press his shoulder, took the move-cue but halted in front of Brian. “I’ll give Gus a hug for you.”

“Make sure he got my gift.”

“Oh?  What’d you send?  One of those little stuffed koalas?”

“A boomerang.”

Michael stared.  “I’m sure you’ll have Mel and Linz’s eternal thanks.  Call you when I get back.”

Brian answered with a wide grin that flattened slightly when he shifted it to Ben, got a fleet smile and brief contact with eyes still caught in another moment.  He was watching them pace away when a Rowdy Patron’s, “Hey!  Is this bar open or closed?” drew his attention.

From behind the bar, Ted blasted a rude, “Yes, SIR!  Can’t you see we’re busy here?” then to the Bartender, “Did you get under the bar?  I told you -”

“Theodore,” Brian snapped.  “Get the fuck out of there.  That’s what we pay HIM for.”

Ted glared a beat, looked down and shook his head.  “You’re right.  I’ll…uh…yeah,” he turned and wandered off, stopping to pacify a few patrons with a more demure, “Right away.  As soon as he can.”

Blake moved in close to Brian, “The noise shook him up a little,” got Brian’s stare and finished, “I guess it’s just as hard on the ones who weren’t physically hurt.”

Brian knew that Blake was talking about the bombing.  Found it disturbing that after six months, even vague reference still drew instant, detailed recall. 

Ted dashed in with a business, “I got Andy to help out before our guests defect to Popperz.”

Determined to switch Ted’s focus, Blake spouted a cheery, “Let’s dance!” and tugged on Ted’s arm.

“No, I think I’ll just -”

“Oh come on,” Blake pulled, “I didn’t come here to watch you work,” split a sultry smile and added, “Show me some moves we might try later.”

“In THAT case…”  Before Ted could finish, Blake snatched his hand and hauled him to the main floor.

Brian snorted approval and panned the laser glimmers off metallic confetti, the mass of carefree bodies grinding to the heavy beats and diva lyrics – hardly concerned or aware that something happened at the bar.  A white-hot shot of bad memory for a few guys who scrambled in private ways to mask a moment of irrational fear.  Choking it back to keep from wasting the long weeks paid to reach normal.

Brian’s practical mind often put a delay on emotion.  Kept him cool in a crisis.  But now he started to feel it.  Like trapped oil floating up through water, heading for the surface.  That cold, dead, gut-constriction when he’d heard about the bombing…and Justin didn’t answer his phone.

A pinch of nausea followed.  His face seemed hot but when he brushed his hair back, his forehead felt cold and misted.  Get a fucking grip, his consciousness commanded.  Take a walk.  Take a piss.  Take that shit out of your mind.  It’s over.

Brian weaved across the dance floor to the stairs leading down to the Mens Room.  Drove the doldrums out by recalling any reminder that Justin was fine.  One memory in particular as he passed the line of washbasins with their individual hexagonal mirrors.  He stopped at the last one, viewed his reflection and let his mind fill in the rest…

He was standing behind Justin, water running for a quick wash before heading back upstairs.  Justin had on a well-used blue tee and a blinding smile, and Brian’s longer arms wrapped around him so that their hands slithered together under the same stream.

Brian smiled into Justin’s hair, “I’m glad you made it in.”

“No way I’d miss the Grand Opening.”

“Do you like these mirrors?  Custom made.”

Their hands stopped moving but stayed locked and Justin straightened up, pressing against Brian’s chest until they were both at full stand.

“They look great.”

Brian remembered Justin’s glow.  And that his eyes were not on the mirror, but its reflection. 

With the passing weeks and a growing acceptance that Justin had most likely moved on, Brian thought it calming that an important and valued part of life still existed.  That despite their stormy trials, right or wrong steps, they had left each other better men.

Wherever you are tonight, I want to believe you’re happy.

The ceiling sprinkler head looks down on milling bodies, the swinging doors of stalls, the line-up facing urinals, a center island of washbasins where mirrors reflect the constant motion of hands and faces.  Except for Brian still and silent.  Watching his reflection stand behind Justin’s.  Until the mirage part fades, not away but somewhere in between.  Fragile, translucent  – not there, but still there.

Song: “Emotional Void” by Recluse

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