Ten Tremont - Chapter 9
In which Adrian puts out the trash....




I just met Justin Taylor.

Now I understand why Brian could be as conflicted as he appears to be since it is oh-so-easy to lose all sense of direction when you are looking into that face and those blue eyes.

A lot has happened over at the neighbors since I wrote last.

First of all, Marc made me pay dearly for having to interrogate Dr. Cameron. Not that I mind a night of intense, hard bottoming, but let me tell you, it’s not as easy as the porn videos make it look, no matter how many years you’ve been taking it up there. Enough said.

So anyway, thanks to his investigation, I found out I was partially right about Big Q guy, a.k.a. Michael Novotny. He and Brian haven’t had sex yet, but they probably never will either. They’ve been best friends for years, and anybody with an ounce of sense knows that’s nothing to fuck with. Literally. I guess Michael would like to, so I give Brian all the credit in that pairing. Marc’s bathhouse friend, Dr. David, would like Brian out of the picture. Even I can tell him, that isn’t ever gonna happen. A guy might give up his best friend for cock now and then, but a long-term relationship that requires that won’t last past the first disagreement.

There was even bigger news on the Justin front. He has been booted out of his house by a homophobic father, and it appears that Brian has taken him in. We all have our own coming-out issues, and sadly, his isn’t all that uncommon. My family didn’t kick me out, but their indifference (parents) and teasing (brothers) drove me to do some pretty stupid and dangerous things that eventually landed me in rehab. We can’t all be as lucky as Marc who, when he made his big announcement at dinner, was greeted by his mother with a nonchalant, “And?” His father didn’t miss a beat. He nodded and replied, “Fine, son, can you pass the pot roast?” Even Marc had hoped for a little more drama than that. He says they were more annoyed with his choice of medical schools, to which I have to wonder, How many people get their ‘choice’ of medical schools in the first place?

But I’m getting off the point here - back to my new neighbor. While I felt bad for the situation Justin found himself in, I was quite pleased to learn that that sweet piece of ass would be over there on a daily basis. Don’t get me wrong, the constant parade of random tricks are fun to watch. I’d compare them to a highly rated half hour sitcom; something to look forward to and loaded with entertainment value, but not a lot of substance. Brian and Justin, on the other hand, are like an Emmy winning mini-series. Or, better yet, a ‘keep you guessing and on the edge of your seat’ drama that I hope gets renewed.

Sadly, from what I’ve seen, I better enjoy it while I can because it looks like it could be canceled any week now. That's the reason the sudden urge to meet this kid set in. What is it about him, I wondered, that has such a yo-yo effect on my playboy neighbor?

My observations of late show me a Brian Kinney who certainly desires Justin Taylor …just not 24/7. It all started when Marc mentioned he got a glimpse of an exasperated-looking Brian heading into his place with an unfamiliar duffle bag the other night. In his words, “Brian probably wouldn’t own such a thing, and if he did, he certainly wouldn’t pair it with a business suit.” The two of us immediately took to our stations and watched the fireworks ensue. Justin had earbuds in and was rocking out, oblivious to Brian entering his loft. Brian was obviously pissed about something. He verbally tore into the kid and then went to his bedroom alone. Justin was left to sit in front of the computer for the rest of the evening. He made several attempts at reconciliation, even going so far as to order Brian some dinner. But I assume that by the time it arrived Brian was asleep because the plate Justin carried into the bedroom returned to the kitchen just as full. When I went to bed, he was sitting at the breakfast bar picking at it and looking dejected.

I wasn’t expecting him to stay after that, but this kid is nothing if not resilient. A night or two later he was over there cooking up a storm. He arrived home from school laden with grocery bags and what must have been a hot make-up sex plan that quickly went awry. He appeared to be trying to do too much at once: prepare an unfamiliar three course meal in too little time while also attempting to pick up the loft and run back and forth to the laundry room. I’m sure he wanted everything to be perfect when Brian got home, in order to demonstrate how nice domesticity could be, but that wasn’t the case.

Brian arrived home all right. Problem was, Justin wasn’t ready for him and Brian wasn’t alone. Even with Justin living under his roof, Brian is certainly holding true to what Marc heard him say. They are not an exclusive couple, and I think this alpha dog act of dominance was his means of making that clear to the kid.

Like most of Brian’s tricks, this one was hot. It looked like the guy might have been open to a threesome, which I was hoping to witness. That, obviously, wasn’t in Brian’s plan. He ordered the trick to give him a blow job on the bedroom threshold while Justin stood watching like a hungry waif outside a restaurant window. He didn’t wait there long, however. He hit the street before Brian’s first orgasm. Marc was just beginning a double shift, and I was really tempted to follow the kid until I realized I had no plan in place for what I would say or do if I actually met him.

I was in an odd predicament. I’m in no position to be hitting on seventeen-year-old boys, and even if I struck up a friendly conversation over a cup of coffee, what would I have said? “Oh, sorry to hear you have no place to stay tonight. I’d offer to let you sack out at my place, but then you’d still end up watching Brian fuck the guy he brought home.”

No, I thought better of it and let Justin run off without me. Even if he couldn’t go home, he must have a school friend he could stay with. There was that girl who dropped him off once. Maybe she’s his fag hag and if so, God bless her. We gay boys need them. That reminds me…Heather Jamison, I am forever in your debt. I need to track her down one of these days.

But first, I have to get to the point of this story. Justin never returned home last night, and I do believe Brian was a little concerned. He was up early and rather than head directly to the coffee pot, which is his usual style, he stood at the top of his bedroom stair and did a quick survey of the loft. Then he walked to the couch, peered over the back of it and frowned. I think he was half expecting to find a blond head poking out from the jumble of clean clothes that had been deposited there yesterday, but no such luck. Next he grabbed his cell phone, made a call, and didn’t seem any happier when he hung up. Poor bastard doesn’t know what the hell he wants.

Brian left for work shortly after that, and the next sign of life I saw over there was hardly what I expected. It was about 3:30 when Justin appeared, wearing his school uniform. (I’m beginning to understand Marc’s infatuation with that little detail.) I assumed he was there to pack up his shit, but when he came out of the bedroom he had changed into sweats and began to clean up the mess in the kitchen from the night before. I said he was a resilient little bugger, didn’t I?

Today everything went smoothly. He moved efficiently from one area of the loft to the other and within about an hour’s time the place was spotless. He had filled two rather large garbage bags,however, and when he slid the door open to dispose of them, I knew my opportunity had presented itself.

Grabbing the trash from under our sink, I raced down the stairs and rounded the back corner to our shared dumpster just as he was hoisting his first one into the container. Justin glanced up quickly and I smiled back as I tossed my bag in.

“Lots of garbage you’ve got there…just moving in?” I asked, trying to sound like I wasn’t hitting on him.

“No.” He let out a little chuckle. “Just the results of a cooking disaster.”

Friendly enough, I thought.

“Oh, I’ve had a few of those myself,” I assured him while attempting to eek out a little more conversation. We were both empty-handed now, standing about two feet apart. I reached out my right hand, “Adrian Lantz…are you new to the building?”

He quickly wiped his hand on his pant leg and stammered, “Um, yeah…well, no…I live in that one.” He pointed behind him and then turned back. He extended his hand to mine, and we made our contact. “Justin Taylor.”

He smiled broadly and it is truly an understatement to write that his face lit up. I think it’s more accurate to say that this guy sparkles. My breath actually caught a bit but thankfully, my mind went into autopilot, “Nice to meet you, Justin Taylor.”

“Yeah, you too,” he replied.

And then we stood there, looking at each other like a couple of idiots. Have I mentioned how blue his eyes are? Staring into them I froze. Remember what I said about having no plan in place? I realized that it didn’t really matter. Even if I had, I’m quite sure I would have forgotten it at this point, because all I could feel was my heart racing and panic spreading through my body. Suddenly I was concerned he might know all about what I had been doing. I was terrified to open my mouth for fear that a confession and apology would come tumbling out.

“”Well,” he broke the uncomfortable silence, “I better go. I still have a shit load of work to do before my boyfriend gets home.”

“Mmmm,” came my brilliant reply as I smiled and nodded.

Then he turned and I watched that delightful ass of his walk away from me. I had to remind myself he is only seventeen.

Brian is so fucked.

Go to Chapter 10.