fansee (![[info]](http://www.insanejournal.com/img/userinfo.gif){kind=small} fansee) wrote,@ 2009-08-28 19:18:00 |
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Ten Tremont - Chapter 6
In which Adrian makes a frittata...
*Special thanks towildsweetcool for getting me the pictures for this one!
I may have to apologize to Adrian for harassing him. I find myself glancing into Kinney’s apartment every time I go by that damn window. I’m not proud of it, I don’t think it’s the right thing to do, but…I look. Every time.
Most of the time I see an empty, meticulously neat apartment. Sometimes I see the middle-aged cleaning woman scrubbing the counter in the kitchen or buffing the floor. (We could use a cleaning lady. If we actually knew Kinney, I’d ask him if his gal had a day a week for us.) Occasionally I’ll see him seated in front of his computer or sprawled on his chaise, watching TV. Once or twice he’s had a visitor and…I swear to God I’m not lying…then I find myself something to do elsewhere in the apartment. Better to chop vegetables for stir-fry than get off watching Kinney fuck yet another guy.
Today was different. Today I watched.
Adrian and I slept in this morning. We had a cup of coffee and I looked at the headlines, then he started to make brunch. I said, “I’m going to check my e-mail,” and Adrian nodded abstractedly. He was working on something new with eggs. He said, “Don’t take too long,” and I said, “I won’t.”
Before I sat down at the computer, I glanced over at Kinney’s, and there was nothing going on. I guess that’s probably not unusual for a Saturday morning. As soon as I beamed up my mail, I got involved in it. There was an e-mail from Astra-Zenica dealing with the drug study I’m doing, and another e-mail (coincidently?) from the Chair of the department asking about my progress. I started drafting an answer to Stuart – if the Chair can take time at 10:30 p.m. on a Friday night to send you an e-mail, you’d better take time on Saturday morning to answer it – when I realized it would be stronger with the addition of some statistics. I’d brought the disc home to work on anyhow; it was in my briefcase. I looked around…where had I left the damn thing?…and movement in the apartment across the alley caught my eye.
The loft door was open now, and someone was inside. I slid my chair back from the desk, picking up the binoculars as I did so. I didn’t want the sun glinting off the lenses.
I focused in on Kinney and the two guys with him. I’d never seen either of them before. The one closest to Kinney…almost supporting him, in fact…was shorter than Brian. That didn’t make him less than average height, like Justin or the dark-haired guy who works at Big Q. I’d say Kinney is about Adrian’s height, while this guy was my height or an inch or so taller. Dressed like a nerd, but okay looking. Huge eyes, I saw, when I focused the binoculars on his face. He helped Brian over to the couch, where Brian lay down. Brian. Lying on the couch. At noon. On a Saturday. That’s different. Different enough to be interesting.
A third guy was right behind them. A tall drink of water, dressed colorfully. Frankly, neither the nerd nor the dude in the red-and-plaid shirt looked like Kinney’s type. From the little I’ve seen, Kinney’s type tends to wear wife-beaters and tight jeans.
“Marc,” Adrian barked from the kitchen. “I told you not to get all involved in your e-mail. I’m ready to pour the eggs into the frittata pan.” He didn’t need to yell. I could hear him perfectly well when he muttered, “Silly me,” under his breath.
“Don’t pour them yet. C’mere instead. I think you’ll find this interesting.”
It had already gotten more interesting by the time Adrian made the short trip from the kitchen to my side. “What’s up?” he asked. I handed him the binoculars.
Justin had come through the door, trailed by two women. I said, “The blonde is the woman I told you about before, the one with a crush on Brian.”
“They’ve got a baby with them.” The brunette was carrying the baby in one of those portable carry-things that double as a car seat. She sat down on a chair and set the baby down next to her on the floor. She was the only one not running around, fussing over Brian. My blonde, also colorfully dressed, brought him something to drink; Brian waved it away. The geek showed up with an ice pack. Brian wasn’t having any of that, either.
“What’s with the ice pack?” I asked Adrian.
He already had the binoculars trained on Brian’s face. “Looks to me like he has a cut on the forehead.” He handed me the binoculars.
I looked. “Yeah,” I said. “A small cut. Not even a butterfly bandage on it.”
“Stitches?”
“Hard to tell, but I don’t think so.”
“Well, they’re making enough fuss over it, you’d think it was a life-threatening injury,” Adrian said.
As I watched, the tall, queeny dude bent over Brian and appeared to be wrestling with him. The tussle broke off when Justin jumped up from where he was sitting and started talking, his agitation plain. Brian appeared to blow him off then, suddenly, he stood up on the couch, put one foot on its back and vaulted to the floor. Damn, the man is a graceful as a cat. Does he ever make an awkward move?
He grabbed Justin by the hand, pulled him around the couch, and they started dancing. Well, I want to amend my previous statement. Brian isn’t the most graceful dancer I’ve ever seen. In fact, he’s pretty clunky at it…although, I have to admit, still sexy as hell. The tall, queeny dude started dancing, too, and he IS good, excellent even. The two women were making out, putting paid to my idea that the blonde is Brian’s ex and trying to get him back. She may be his ex – that may be his baby – but she’s with the tough little brunette now.
I stood up. “This looks like it may go on for a while. Let’s get to your frittata.”
“Okay…NO! Wait!” Adrian grabbed my arm and turned me back toward the window.
I looked. The Big Q guy was coming through the door, another older guy trailing him. Fuck! It was David Cameron. He’s a fairly successful chiropractor in town but that’s not how I recognized him. Big Q guy looked horrified, and Dave looked grim.
“Holy shit,” was the best I could mutter.
“What?” Adrian asked.
“That’s David Cameron with Big Q guy. I met him years ago at the baths.” I handed the glasses back to Adrian so he could get a good look at the scene.
“Mmm, nice. Did you have sex with him?”
“Yes,” I admitted.
“Was he good?”
“Not bad. A little controlling, if I recall correctly.”
Adrian snickered and handed the glasses back. “Three degrees of separation.”
“Huh?”
“You fucked the guy who’s currently fucking the guy who is Kinney’s mystery man.”
I watched as Dave got in Brian’s face, they traded brief comments, then Dave turned and stalked out through the door. Big Q stood there, looking like he didn’t know what to do. Brian said something, and the blonde’s girl friend got up and followed Dave out of the loft. “What the fuck is going on?” I wondered out loud.
“Damned if I know,” Adrian said. “Maybe the little lesbian is related to your old buddy? She’s probably out there, trying to cool him off.”
“What’s up with Brian and the guy from Big Q? What do you think?”
“Oh, now that I really think about it, I’d guess he must be Brian’s ex, and Brian broke it off so he could fuck around. More than that, I think the ex is still carrying a torch for Brian, and Dr. Cameron knows it.”
I said, “Sounds logical, but with Kinney, who knows. Maybe I should look up old Dave to find out how close we are with all this.”
Adrian gave me a look that said, ‘Not at the baths, you’re not.’
I chuckled. “My lower back has been acting up a little lately; could be a trip to a chiropractor would do me good.”
Adrian’s smile grew devious. Just then, the brunette came back into the loft, and she and the blonde began preparing to leave. The blonde squeezed Brian’s arm and kissed his cheek, the brunette looked disgusted, and Brian kissed the baby’s forehead. The nerd said something to Brian and had a short conversation with red-and-plaid shirt, then followed the girls out of the room. Brian picked up the remote and turned on the TV, and he and the queeny guy settled down on either end of the couch. Justin was still there, contentedly sitting on one of Brian’s bar stools watching this all play out. He had been quiet during this most recent turn of events, but he appeared happy to be staying.
Adrian and I went in the kitchen and had an excellent frittata with smoked ham and provolone and discussed our plans for the day. I glanced over at our neighbor’s loft again before we went out to get some groceries, and it appeared empty again, although there were clothes that looked familiar strewn around. We may have missed the interesting part.
Oh, well. Thankfully, neither of us need visual aids to get it up.
Go to Chapter 7.
In which Adrian makes a frittata...
*Special thanks to
wildsweetcool for getting me the pictures for this one!I may have to apologize to Adrian for harassing him. I find myself glancing into Kinney’s apartment every time I go by that damn window. I’m not proud of it, I don’t think it’s the right thing to do, but…I look. Every time.
Most of the time I see an empty, meticulously neat apartment. Sometimes I see the middle-aged cleaning woman scrubbing the counter in the kitchen or buffing the floor. (We could use a cleaning lady. If we actually knew Kinney, I’d ask him if his gal had a day a week for us.) Occasionally I’ll see him seated in front of his computer or sprawled on his chaise, watching TV. Once or twice he’s had a visitor and…I swear to God I’m not lying…then I find myself something to do elsewhere in the apartment. Better to chop vegetables for stir-fry than get off watching Kinney fuck yet another guy.
Today was different. Today I watched.
Adrian and I slept in this morning. We had a cup of coffee and I looked at the headlines, then he started to make brunch. I said, “I’m going to check my e-mail,” and Adrian nodded abstractedly. He was working on something new with eggs. He said, “Don’t take too long,” and I said, “I won’t.”
Before I sat down at the computer, I glanced over at Kinney’s, and there was nothing going on. I guess that’s probably not unusual for a Saturday morning. As soon as I beamed up my mail, I got involved in it. There was an e-mail from Astra-Zenica dealing with the drug study I’m doing, and another e-mail (coincidently?) from the Chair of the department asking about my progress. I started drafting an answer to Stuart – if the Chair can take time at 10:30 p.m. on a Friday night to send you an e-mail, you’d better take time on Saturday morning to answer it – when I realized it would be stronger with the addition of some statistics. I’d brought the disc home to work on anyhow; it was in my briefcase. I looked around…where had I left the damn thing?…and movement in the apartment across the alley caught my eye.
The loft door was open now, and someone was inside. I slid my chair back from the desk, picking up the binoculars as I did so. I didn’t want the sun glinting off the lenses.
I focused in on Kinney and the two guys with him. I’d never seen either of them before. The one closest to Kinney…almost supporting him, in fact…was shorter than Brian. That didn’t make him less than average height, like Justin or the dark-haired guy who works at Big Q. I’d say Kinney is about Adrian’s height, while this guy was my height or an inch or so taller. Dressed like a nerd, but okay looking. Huge eyes, I saw, when I focused the binoculars on his face. He helped Brian over to the couch, where Brian lay down. Brian. Lying on the couch. At noon. On a Saturday. That’s different. Different enough to be interesting.
A third guy was right behind them. A tall drink of water, dressed colorfully. Frankly, neither the nerd nor the dude in the red-and-plaid shirt looked like Kinney’s type. From the little I’ve seen, Kinney’s type tends to wear wife-beaters and tight jeans.
“Marc,” Adrian barked from the kitchen. “I told you not to get all involved in your e-mail. I’m ready to pour the eggs into the frittata pan.” He didn’t need to yell. I could hear him perfectly well when he muttered, “Silly me,” under his breath.
“Don’t pour them yet. C’mere instead. I think you’ll find this interesting.”
It had already gotten more interesting by the time Adrian made the short trip from the kitchen to my side. “What’s up?” he asked. I handed him the binoculars.
Justin had come through the door, trailed by two women. I said, “The blonde is the woman I told you about before, the one with a crush on Brian.”
“They’ve got a baby with them.” The brunette was carrying the baby in one of those portable carry-things that double as a car seat. She sat down on a chair and set the baby down next to her on the floor. She was the only one not running around, fussing over Brian. My blonde, also colorfully dressed, brought him something to drink; Brian waved it away. The geek showed up with an ice pack. Brian wasn’t having any of that, either.
“What’s with the ice pack?” I asked Adrian.
He already had the binoculars trained on Brian’s face. “Looks to me like he has a cut on the forehead.” He handed me the binoculars.
I looked. “Yeah,” I said. “A small cut. Not even a butterfly bandage on it.”
“Stitches?”
“Hard to tell, but I don’t think so.”
“Well, they’re making enough fuss over it, you’d think it was a life-threatening injury,” Adrian said.
As I watched, the tall, queeny dude bent over Brian and appeared to be wrestling with him. The tussle broke off when Justin jumped up from where he was sitting and started talking, his agitation plain. Brian appeared to blow him off then, suddenly, he stood up on the couch, put one foot on its back and vaulted to the floor. Damn, the man is a graceful as a cat. Does he ever make an awkward move?
He grabbed Justin by the hand, pulled him around the couch, and they started dancing. Well, I want to amend my previous statement. Brian isn’t the most graceful dancer I’ve ever seen. In fact, he’s pretty clunky at it…although, I have to admit, still sexy as hell. The tall, queeny dude started dancing, too, and he IS good, excellent even. The two women were making out, putting paid to my idea that the blonde is Brian’s ex and trying to get him back. She may be his ex – that may be his baby – but she’s with the tough little brunette now.
I stood up. “This looks like it may go on for a while. Let’s get to your frittata.”
“Okay…NO! Wait!” Adrian grabbed my arm and turned me back toward the window.
I looked. The Big Q guy was coming through the door, another older guy trailing him. Fuck! It was David Cameron. He’s a fairly successful chiropractor in town but that’s not how I recognized him. Big Q guy looked horrified, and Dave looked grim.
“Holy shit,” was the best I could mutter.
“What?” Adrian asked.
“That’s David Cameron with Big Q guy. I met him years ago at the baths.” I handed the glasses back to Adrian so he could get a good look at the scene.
“Mmm, nice. Did you have sex with him?”
“Yes,” I admitted.
“Was he good?”
“Not bad. A little controlling, if I recall correctly.”
Adrian snickered and handed the glasses back. “Three degrees of separation.”
“Huh?”
“You fucked the guy who’s currently fucking the guy who is Kinney’s mystery man.”
I watched as Dave got in Brian’s face, they traded brief comments, then Dave turned and stalked out through the door. Big Q stood there, looking like he didn’t know what to do. Brian said something, and the blonde’s girl friend got up and followed Dave out of the loft. “What the fuck is going on?” I wondered out loud.
“Damned if I know,” Adrian said. “Maybe the little lesbian is related to your old buddy? She’s probably out there, trying to cool him off.”
“What’s up with Brian and the guy from Big Q? What do you think?”
“Oh, now that I really think about it, I’d guess he must be Brian’s ex, and Brian broke it off so he could fuck around. More than that, I think the ex is still carrying a torch for Brian, and Dr. Cameron knows it.”
I said, “Sounds logical, but with Kinney, who knows. Maybe I should look up old Dave to find out how close we are with all this.”
Adrian gave me a look that said, ‘Not at the baths, you’re not.’
I chuckled. “My lower back has been acting up a little lately; could be a trip to a chiropractor would do me good.”
Adrian’s smile grew devious. Just then, the brunette came back into the loft, and she and the blonde began preparing to leave. The blonde squeezed Brian’s arm and kissed his cheek, the brunette looked disgusted, and Brian kissed the baby’s forehead. The nerd said something to Brian and had a short conversation with red-and-plaid shirt, then followed the girls out of the room. Brian picked up the remote and turned on the TV, and he and the queeny guy settled down on either end of the couch. Justin was still there, contentedly sitting on one of Brian’s bar stools watching this all play out. He had been quiet during this most recent turn of events, but he appeared happy to be staying.
Adrian and I went in the kitchen and had an excellent frittata with smoked ham and provolone and discussed our plans for the day. I glanced over at our neighbor’s loft again before we went out to get some groceries, and it appeared empty again, although there were clothes that looked familiar strewn around. We may have missed the interesting part.
Oh, well. Thankfully, neither of us need visual aids to get it up.