Breakneck (15/18)
Title: Breakneck
Author: methylethyl
Rating: NC-17
Summary: Justin watches the last vestiges of support crumble beneath his feet, sending him into freefall. He can only close his eyes and pray he’ll land somewhere soft.
Disclaimer: QAF & Co. does not belong to me.
Breakneck
Chapter 15: Howl
That night was the night of Brian's primary hearing.
There was, of course, no word from him the entire night on how it had went, and I got his voicemail when I tried to call his cell phone. Debbie pointed out, repeatedly, that I had more important things to worry about right now, and reluctantly, I agreed to wait until morning when I could ask Melanie how things had gone.
Luke went down easily despite the fact that it was bath night, and I sketched for a few hours before going to bed. Despite my worries about Brian, I went down almost as fast as Luke had.
*
I arrived at Melanie and Lindsay's place ten minutes early. (Was it still technically their place? Brian had said that they'd split, but he hadn't given any details about the physical arrangements that had been made…)
"How did the hearing go?" I asked, as soon as Melanie had let me in the door.
Melanie looked grim. "Not well. Things are looking pretty bad, right now."
Fuck.
"We're hoping for more of an upswing at today's hearing," Melanie said. "And we've got tomorrow's hearing, too."
"There's a third one?" I asked, startled. "On a Saturday?"
Melanie nodded. "Yep. Two to four, and then closing arguments at seven. We get a verdict on Monday afternoon."
I bit my lip and peeled the blanket off of Luke's carrier. He was still sleeping-as was Gus, I assumed, given the silence-and probably wouldn't wake up for another twenty minutes.
"Is there a chance he'll come out okay? Is it completely hopeless?" I asked, a little more despair in my voice than I was comfortable hearing.
Despite my resolve, there was still a niggling doubt that I should have gone after Kip yesterday. I could have put this all to an end yesterday and I hadn't, and if Brian went down for this because I hadn't been prepared to risk Luke…
Christ. What was I saying? I couldn't risk Luke. I couldn't risk him for anything.
"It's not completely hopeless," Melanie answered, but her grim expression didn't change. "But there's a good chance that Thomas is going to get some kind of settlement out of this, and Brian'll get a big heavy black mark on his record. It won't be the end of the world. He won't lose his job or anything."
"But there's no way he'll be made partner if that happens," I protested. "You know that's all he wants!"
Melanie's mouth went into a thin line. "Yeah, well, the asshole should have thought about that before he went and fucked Thomas across his desk."
"You have to win," I said urgently. "You have to. If he loses this lawsuit…"
Melanie offered me a half-smile, reaching for her coat. "I'm doing my absolute best for him. I can't promise anything more."
I held in a sigh.
"Okay," Melanie said as she shrugged on her coat. "Gus should be awake before noon. His lunch is sitting out on the counter-you remember where everything is from last time. Help yourself to TV, food, whatever. Gus eats dinner around five-he's been eating like a garbage disposal ever since we started introducing solids, so don't hold back. Emergency numbers are on the fridge. Any questions?"
I shook my head. "Nope. Sounds good."
Melanie left.
Unfortunately, her slamming the door woke Luke up with a start. Fortunately, his initial reaction was to look around curiously, not to start screaming, and even more fortunately, the slamming of the door did not wake Gus. Or at least, there was no noise coming from upstairs. Just to check, I unbuckled Luke from his carrier, took off his winter garb, and carried him up to Gus' room.
Luke had been rather adorably fascinated by Gus the last time I'd babysat for Melanie and Lindsay. Gus hadn't really cared one way or the other, but Luke had followed him around for hours, babbling at him and grabbing him when I wasn't fast enough to pull his hands back. Catching sight of the baby in the crib now produced an excited string of syllables, but I quickly shushed him and hurried out of the room after determining that Gus was still asleep. Four-month-olds were cranky little things-no need to cut his nap short and piss him off even more.
Downstairs, I busied myself with Luke and the crayon I'd been trying to get him to take an interest in last night. I'd read in one of my baby books that one of the things an eleven-month-old might be able to do was scribble with a crayon, and though Luke wasn't quite eleven months old, I was intensely eager for him to learn to color. Fatherly pride, or some shit like that.
Luke was really more interested in eating the thing.
"Look," I told him patiently, moving his hand over the sheet of white computer paper and trying to get him to notice the blue streaks he was creating with my help. "Look at the pretty colors. See, we can make lines and circles… smiley faces…"
He really wasn't having it.
Luckily for Luke the phone rang just then, and I had to dive for it before it woke Gus.
"Peterson-Marcus residence," I answered breathlessly.
"Justin," Melanie's voice came over the line. "I want you to look on the dining room table for me-did I leave a stack of files there?"
"Uh…" I poked my head into the dining room. "Yep. There's three manila folders."
"Shit," Melanie swore.
"I can drive them up to your-oh, no, I've only got one car seat," I realized. "Shit. I guess I can't."
"No, no, it's okay. The roads are really bad today, anyway," Melanie said, half to herself. "I think I should be fine. Can you read me the names on the files? I'm pretty sure I don't need them until this afternoon…"
I had been heading back into the living room, where Luke was attempting to get himself down from the couch.
"Hang on," I said, as I scooped him up before he crawled right off. "I don't think so, buddy."
"Shit. I'm gonna have to cancel that lunch meeting with Harris, and he'll want to reschedule on Monday, I was supposed to watch Gus…" Melanie was definitely muttering to herself now, and probably consulting her planner.
I hurried into the dining room, Luke on my hip. "Okay. There's… Pollack, Omatete, and Kinney."
Kinney.
My eyes froze on the file, but Melanie was talking again.
"All right," she sighed. "I'll be there in about an hour and a half to pick them up. Thanks so much, Justin."
"Yeah," I said vaguely.
She hung up.
Slowly, I set the phone down on the table, my hand moving to the file labeled 'Kinney' in tight, blocked letters.
I opened the folder and sat down in the chair, letting Luke down on the ground.
Brian was losing this lawsuit. He was going to lose this lawsuit, and I didn't know what would happen after that. He was hurting without Michael. If he lost his best friend and his chance at becoming partner… And I could have done something to prevent it? How could I live with myself? How could I claim to love Brian if I wouldn't truly do anything for him?
But there was Luke. And Luke came before Brian.
Brian needed me now.
But Luke needed me now, and every minute of every day that would follow for the next seventeen years.
And Brian wouldn't even want my help, the stubborn bastard. He'd be so pissed if he knew I was even thinking about it.
But…
I stared down at Luke, who had pulled himself up using the chair next to me and was slapping the fabric on the seat of the chair.
A plan had already formed in my head and I had been helpless to stop it, my brain leaps and bounds ahead of my rationality. It was in my head, so clear and so clean and… and it would work… it would save Brian… I…
"Fuck it," I muttered, grabbing the phone.
I flipped through pages and pages of Melanie's notes until I started hitting printed documents, until finally, about half-way through, there was something with Kip Thomas' contact information.
"Gotcha," I breathed, turning on the phone and punching in his phone number (which was shaped like a rhombus, incidentally). Kip Thomas was going down, he was going down, he was going-
"Da?"
I froze, my finger paused over the 'Call' button.
Little hands grasped at my thigh, and I looked down to see Luke staring right back up at me, eyes wide.
"Fuck," I swore.
"Buh?" Luke asked, raising his arms up to me.
"Fuck," I said again, setting the phone down. I leaned over and swung Luke up onto my lap obligingly. "All right. You win. You saved Daddy from doing something stupid again."
At that moment, apparently, both babies in the house decided to conspire against my plan to help Brian, because the sound of Gus wailing from upstairs suddenly drifted into the dining room. I heaved a sigh, shut the folder, and went to go see what was wrong with Gus.
*
Lindsay got back a bit late, and I barely had enough time to run back to the house to drop Luke off and hear that Pam had left me a message before I had to run out for my shift at the diner. Between the cash I'd made babysitting Gus and the tips I was going to make tonight, I had serious plans to go shopping tomorrow.
It was the first time I'd worked with Debbie at the diner, and that was… an experience. I liked it, really. Debbie was completely at home in the middle of the Friday night rush, and even though I started flagging around nine, she kept me going like a slave driver. I found my respect for her multiplying into something like reverence by the time ten o'clock rolled around.
"C'mon, Sunshine," she said, snapping her fingers at me as I wiped another table off. "Table four needs water and table seven's out of ketchup. Let's go!"
"Right," I said, wondering when I had last sat down.
Debbie slapped my ass. "Hop-to. Three more hours!"
I held in a groan.
Debbie made to move away, but then she stopped and let out a cackle. "Oh," she added, leaning back in, "and when you get the chance, wait on that guy who just sat down at the counter."
I glanced at the bar miserably-then instantly brightened.
Brian!
Guilt descended as I remembered how I'd chickened out of calling Kip earlier today, but I shoved it away. Brian would be my bright spot of the night, regardless of his present situation and my struggle not to help him.
I finished wiping off the table, poured table four their water and grabbed a new bottle of ketchup for table seven, all in record timing, and then I bounced up to Brian.
"Hi!"
Brian's eyebrows rose. "So, they liked your references, then? Or was it your scintillating portfolio that really convinced them to give you the job?"
I lifted my chin. "They saw my resume and picked me. I got it on my own merit and that's all I care about."
"Christ," Brian muttered.
"I said wait on him, Sunshine, not take your break with him!" Debbie yelled from across the diner, making me start.
"What can I get you?" I asked quickly, pulling out my pad.
Brian gave me a half-hearted smirk. "My job back?"
I almost dropped my pen.
My next thought was Yes, I could. I didn't, though.
"You lost your job?" I asked, swallowing and trying to figure out if my voice sounded strange. "I-I thought you didn't get a verdict on the lawsuit until Monday. I just talked to Melanie this morning and she said-"
"Oh, don't be a princess," Brian interrupted, rolling his eyes. "I was kidding. I'm not going to lose my job. Just, you know, any shot I ever had at making partner. My client list. I'll probably be blacklisted for the next few years. Nothing life threatening."
He was trying and failing to keep the bitterness out of his voice.
"And Michael's still being a dick?" I asked, while desperately fighting back the urge to ask if there was anything that I could do. I knew that Brian had only to say the word, and I might not be able to hold myself back from helping any longer.
Brian's smile was wry. "Yep. Just like I wanted."
I hesitated. "…Lindsay?"
"Busy breaking up with Mel," Brian said, shrugging.
"I-" I stopped myself, but my mouth had opened and it had started to tumble out, I couldn't hold it in, I couldn't hold it back- "Is there anything I can do?"
Brian snorted. "You? My seventeen-year-old stalker?"
I bit my lip and shrugged.
"What could you do?" Brian asked derisively. "Get back to work. Go home to your kid, work on your little college applications with your little friends-that's what you can do."
"I-"
I wanted to yell, scream that I'd had plans, schemes that would have saved him that I'd passed up on because I'd chosen Luke over him-Brian was seeing me as some dumb kid, just like everyone did, just like he'd never done-even though I was so much more than that-and-and fuck him! Fuck you, I wanted to scream, and the effort of holding it in made tears prickle in my eyes.
My jaw set, teeth grinding together.
"Sunshine!" Debbie snapped. "Let's go! And get the mop out of the back-people keep tracking in snow."
"Coffee, black," Brian ordered.
"Coming right up," I ground out, before marching away.
Someone was getting jizz in his coffee.
*
Despite the jizz in his coffee, and the fact that he'd just been bitching about how he was soon going to be out of a job, Brian left me a ridiculously large tip. Asshole. Just when I was good and mad at him, he had to go and do something nice.
So the following morning, after I finished my breakfast shift at the diner, I trooped out to complete my Christmas shopping for Luke and to pick up a few things for myself-namely, a new sketchpad and a few new pencils. But baby stuff ended up being more expensive than I'd thought, so I had to abandon my usual art supply shop and instead venture over to the Big Q. They didn't have as high quality pencils as I was used to, but they were three dollars cheaper, so I could live with it.
My luck being what it was, Michael was working. But because he apparently possessed a certain degree of professionalism while at work, he didn't so much as scowl at me. In return, I made my purchases as quickly as I could.
But it was as I was hustling out of the Big Q, Luke in his carrier hanging off of my arm as usual, that someone called my name.
"Hey! Taylor!"
My head whipped around, and I saw Chris Hobbs and getting out of a car parked several spots in front of mine.
"Oh, look, and it's little baby Taylor, too!"
Shit. Fuck. Balls.
I was going to have to pass him to get to my car. I was also pretty sure that Chris wouldn't do anything to hurt a baby-me, yes, but an innocent little baby? No way. So I might be safe.
"Is that what you've got under that blanket, Taylor?" Chris asked, meeting me halfway and stooping over the carrier. "The little faggot baby?"
"What's under the blanket is my son," I said with forced calm. "And I'd appreciate it if you'd just leave us alone."
Chris reached out for the blanket, but I jerked the carrier back, taking several steps away from him. Chris looked up at me with a sadistic grin.
"I just wanna see it. I wanna see what a little faggot baby looks like."
"Yeah, well, Google it," I snapped, my heart racing. I suddenly hated the carrier. I couldn't run, I couldn't hold Luke to my chest, I couldn't even see his face because of that damn blanket.
"Why don't you want me to see him?" Chris asked, advancing.
I walked backwards as he came forward, my footing awkward on the not-quite-icy parking lot. "Chris, please. He's just a baby. You can bully me all you want in school, but leave him alone."
"Bully?" Chris snorted, still advancing. "I don't bully you, I just give you what you're asking for. If you weren't such a little faggot all the time-"
I stumbled into the back of a car, and used my free hand to steady myself as I almost slipped.
"-maybe I'd leave you alone. So why don't you just show me the baby, Taylor?"
Chris had me against the car, standing less than two feet away from me, and I was stuck. I couldn't run. I couldn't lash out at him, because I didn't know what he would do if I provoked him. I couldn't cry for help, there wasn't anyone around.
My heart raced. My palms were sweaty, and all I could think was get out, get out, get out, get out…
Chris smirked as he bent over the carrier, fingers reaching for the blanket as his face neared. "Now let's see the little faggot baby… Too bad I don't have a camera, I could have taken some pictures to show the-"
I rammed the edge of the carrier straight up into his nose.
"Motherfuck!" Chris bellowed, hands flying to his nose as he doubled over.
Underneath the blanket, Luke had burst into tears, either from the sudden jolt or from Chris' yell. Either way, it wasn't my primary concern at the moment. I pushed myself off from the van and made for the car-
A hand seized my calf and my feet lost traction with the icy parking lot, and I fell face-first on the ground, Luke's carrier somehow landing upright but the arm that had been holding it slamming down painfully onto one of the plastic ridges.
"Motherfucking piece of shit!" Chris spat, as pain suddenly exploded in my side. "Fucking faggot!"
Oh, God. Luke.
I reached a hand up to grab at the carrier, but mid-air Chris stomped it down to the ground, pinning it there and twisting my hand away from my arm.
"Aaugh!" I howled in pain, and I swung my body across the ground with all my might and drove my legs into Chris', kicking furiously at whatever I could make contact with. "Fuck off, get the fuck off of me, get off!"
Someone was yelling in the background.
My hand was released.
"Faggot," Chris snarled, driving another kick to my stomach.
Pain lanced through my torso and I curled into a fetal position before I registered the sound of footsteps. Footsteps running away. Chris was leaving.
"Hey! Hey! Get back here, you little punk!"
Michael.
Of course.
I heard the sound of a car starting, and wild thoughts about Chris running me over with his car suddenly spun into my head. I uncurled myself enough to grab Luke's carrier with my uninjured hand, pulling it toward me.
My stomach roiled and sharp pain shot up and down my abdomen, and I gritted my teeth. My hand was throbbing something awful. Luke was still bawling at the top of his lungs.
But the car was driving off in the opposite direction.
"Shit," I heard Michael mutter. "Shi-wait, Justin?"
I pushed myself up, not gasping in pain only with intense effort. The side of my face throbbed from where it had connected with the ice upon my fall to the ground, but I wasn't dizzy, and Chris had only gotten two or three kicks to my ribs so I could still breathe pretty well.
That fucker. So much for not hurting an innocent little baby.
"Are you all right?" Michael asked, crouching down beside me as I used my good hand to peel back the blanket over Luke. "Who the hell was that? Did you know him?"
He seemed actually concerned, too.
"I'm okay," I said, swallowing as my stomach roiled again. I used my good hand, which was shaking violently with adrenaline, to unbuckle the straps holding Luke in, and I slid my arm underneath his body and picked him up with one arm, bringing him close to me. I practically crushed him against my chest.
"Are you sure?" Michael asked worriedly. "We've got a first-aid kit back in the store…"
I nodded, tipping my head forward to press a kiss to the top of Luke's head as he continued to wail, though with less vigor now. "I'll be okay. He didn't do too much damage."
Talking hurt. My left cheekbone had been slammed into the ground when I'd fallen, and it was started to throb vigorously as the adrenaline wore off.
"Who the fuck was he?" Michael demanded.
"Just a-" Luke kicked my stomach, and for one grey moment, I was sure I was going to vomit. But I swallowed and forced myself to plunge onward. "Just an asshole from school."
"I'm gonna call the cops," Michael muttered. "C'mon, let's get you inside. They'll wanna take your statement-"
I shook my head. "I'm fine. You don't have to call the cops or anything, I'm fine."
Michael frowned. "But-"
"Really," I interrupted. "I'm fine."
Lord, if there was one thing I did not want, it was for someone to call the fucking cops.
"Are you sure you're all right?" he pressed. "Let me at least call Ma and tell her to come pick you up."
"I can drive just fine," I said irritably.
Michael scowled at me. "Look, I'm only trying to help."
Luke had finally quieted down to snuffling, face buried into the V where my coat had come unzipped, exposing my hoodie underneath, and one mitten-covered hand trying unsuccessfully to latch onto the fabric of my coat.
"I appreciate it," I said, with forced calm. "But I'm fine. I'll drive home, take some pain meds, put Luke down for a nap, and spend the next few days looking like an abused little waif, and then I'll…"
I trailed off.
Another plan to save Brian had snapped itself together in my head, out of nowhere. I could-it was almost four-and I'd call Daphne-
"Justin?" Michael asked, frowning. "It's fucking cold out, can we at least go inside the store to talk about this?"
I swallowed. Brian's words from last night rang in my head.
"What could you do?" he'd snorted, so derisive and condescending and sure of himself. "What could you do?"
Well, fuck you, Brian.
Here's what I can do.
I raised my head and looked Michael in the eye. "Yeah, let's go inside. I need to borrow your cell phone for a few minutes."
*
Michael brought me to the break room, where three overweight women immediately descended upon Luke, cooing and making kissy noises. Even Michael looked revolted. Luke, though, was in heaven, giggling and waving at them from the safety of my arm (my left hand was completely out of commission-it was already starting to swell and darken). I had to put him back in his carrier when I went to use Michael's cell phone, but I stayed close so that he could keep me in sight.
"Chanders residence," Daphne answered sweetly.
"Hey," I said. "It's Justin. I need a few favors."
"Favors? What's in it for me?"
"Daphne, please," I said, my voice strained.
Daphne was immediately serious. "Justin, what's wrong? Is everything okay?"
"It's-it'll be fine," I said. "I need you to do two things for me. It's really important."
"Anything."
"I want you to look up the address attached to this phone number-are you ready?"
"Yeah, there's a pen here… Go."
I pictured the keypad of the phone in my head, saw the rhombus of Kip Thomas' phone number, and reeled it off for her.
"I'll look it up online, but you know we've got dial-up, so I'm gonna have to hang up…"
"That's fine," I said quickly. "The other thing is, can you watch Luke for an hour or two?"
"Now?" Daphne sounded startled.
"Yeah."
"Uh… Sure. But you know I've got my grandparents' anniversary party tonight."
"It shouldn't take that long. Thank you," I said, letting out a relieved sigh. "Can you come pick him up? I'm at the Big Q over on Chester."
"Yeah. Justin, what's going on?"
"I…"
I glanced over at Luke, who was being fawned over and loving every minute of it, and then to Michael, who was staring at me curiously, probably completely baffled by my end of the conversation.
"I'll explain later," I said finally.
If I tried to explain what the hell I was doing, I might realize how stupid it was and back out. But I couldn't back out. Not now. Not when I had the chance to fight for something, to make something in my life right again.
"I'll be there in fifteen minutes," Daphne promised, after a pause.
I hung up and turned to Michael, handing his cell phone back. He handed me two little white pills.
"What is it?" I asked, poking one.
Michael looked at me incredulously. "What, you think I'm trying to drug you? It's Tylenol. Jesus."
I held them out. "I'm allergic to Tylenol. There isn't any ibuprofen, is there?"
"Oh," Michael said, having the grace to look slightly abashed. "No, this is all that was in the first aid kit. Sorry…"
"I've got Midol in my purse," one of the overweight women gathered around Luke offered.
"That's okay," I said. "Really. Thanks, though."
She shrugged and went back to cooing over Luke.
I sat back in my chair, closing my eyes.
*
Kip's apartment was located on top of a little sandwich bistro place. I got there a little after four, and after checking my face in the bathroom to ensure that my cheek hadn't started to bruise yet (it hadn't) and ordering an ice water that I kept against my throbbing left hand, I sat down at a table near the window and pretended to read the newspaper.
I lucked out when Kip actually walked into the bistro about fifteen minutes later. I'd been planning to corner him just outside his apartment and hope for the best, but this was even better.
He ordered a sandwich and stood around as it was made, browsing the selection of imported coffee beans and looking disgustingly cheerful as he did so. Clearly, the hearings had been going well for him, today.
I folded up my newspaper and stood, summoning every last reserve of strength I had. This was no time for nerves. This was no time for being a pussy about a little pain in my torso. It was action time.
Calm settled over me, and there was a faint ringing in my ears as I approached.
"Hey there," I said, leaning against the rack of coffees and keeping my bad hand carefully jammed into my coat pocket.
Kip looked up with an expression of mild surprise. "Can I help you?"
I grinned lazily, ignoring the throb of pain from my cheekbone. "I don't know, can you?"
"If you're gonna feed me lines like that, no, not really," Kip replied, returning to the coffees.
Shit.
"You know what shuts me up real good?" I asked, leaning in.
Kip glanced up. "A fifty?"
"A big, fat cock in my mouth," I said in a low voice, licking my lips. "Or a big, fat cock up my ass. Or my own big, fat cock in my mouth. Ever seen someone do that?"
Kip's eyebrows shot up at my words. "Well," he said, at length. "Aren't you the dirty one?"
I smirked. Slowly.
Kip exhaled. "Look, I don't have a lot of time, I've got to get back-"
"I can be quick," I promised, not letting my seductive tone drop. I took a step toward him, bringing my good hand up and tugging on the lapel of his suit, letting a little smile play at my lips. "C'mon. You got a car or something around here?"
Kip mentally debated for a few more minutes, and then his order was called.
"I live upstairs," he finally said, sighing. "But we've got to be quick. I've got a meeting at six."
Right. Closing arguments were at seven, but his lawyer probably wanted him there a little early.
Kip collected his sandwich and then led me out of the bistro, into the apartment building and up to his apartment.
"I'm gonna pop this into the fridge," Kip said, gesturing at the sandwich. "You can go…"
"Which way to the bedroom?" I asked.
He pointed, but then frowned at me. "You've got… there's something on your face."
I raised a hand to my left cheek, feeling the heated skin, and realized that the bruise must have started to show. Fuck.
"I'll see you there," I promised, before I sashayed down the hallway and into the bedroom.
My chest ached from the kick to the ribs every time I took in a breath, and my abdomen was still twinging painfully every time I moved. My hand throbbed like a bitch. It was taking effort to keep up this façade, and I knew that as soon as I got back to Debbie's, I was going to collapse on my bed and drown myself in painkillers. Everything hurt.
I kept the lights in the bedroom off, but because it was winter, the sun was setting at this point and casting the room in a red-gold glow.
Kip joined moments later.
I pulled my mask back together and moved toward him seductively, ignoring my pain.
"You're so hot," I murmured, using my good hand to guide his face to mine.
We kissed once, twice, three times, and I thought I was going to be sick. Eugh. His lips were thin and flappy, like a fish, and I couldn't stand the feeling. It was a relief when he started moving downward.
"Blow me," I whispered.
Kip slid a hand into the back of my pants, cupping my ass. "I thought you could suck yourself off?"
I smirked. "Oh, I can. But you've gotta take the edge off, first. I'm too fucking horny to last right now."
Apparently, that was agreeable, because he started undoing the button of my jeans.
I waited until he was down on his knees and just putting the head of my cock into his mouth to speak again.
"It's a curse of youth, I guess," I sighed, looking down and putting a hand in his hair. "They say you don't start gaining real endurance until you're at least nineteen."
Kip paused, looking up at me warily. "How old are you?"
I bit my lip. "If I tell you, you've gotta promise not to freak out, okay? The last guy really freaked out on me-he was paranoid about getting arrested for molestation and labeled as a sex offender for the rest of his life or some shit like that. I mean, jeeze, Dad beats up one guy on Liberty Avenue, and suddenly, no one wants to fuck you…"
Kip's eyes were wide.
"You promise not to freak?" I asked.
"Well-well, you're not going to tell anyone, are you?" Kip asked, sounding slightly nervous.
"Tell them what? That you molested me?" I asked.
Kip nodded.
I smiled down at him. "Of course not. But I'll tell them that you attacked and tried to rape me, if you don't do what I say."
Kip's mouth fell open.
I raised my shirt slowly, and sure enough, there were darkened patterns of bruising on my stomach and ribs. "These aren't even an hour old, yet. I've got your saliva on my dick. And everyone knows what sick perverts we faggots are."
"You little-"
Kip had started to stand, but I had a hand on the back of his head and I forced his face down as my knee shot up, and his nose slammed right into my kneecap.
He let out a howl of pain, hands flying to his face.
Two noses smashed in one day. I was starting to feel a little bit like a one-trick pony.
"Drop the lawsuit against Brian Kinney," I ordered, jumping back from him and yanking my pants up. "Drop it tonight, at the closing arguments, or I'll go to the police."
"You're here for Kinney?" Kip demanded, raising his head. Blood was streaming down his face.
I was panting, standing in the doorframe and ready to bolt. I had only to grab my coat off the kitchen table and I could be gone. I was high on adrenaline again. The pain was now barely there, just skirting on the edges of existence, and I was ready to fight. I was ready to win.
"Drop the lawsuit," I repeated.
"Kinney's little bitch running errands," Kip spat, struggling to a standing position.
"Drop the lawsuit, you little lying sack of shit!" I yelled, backing out of the room before he got his bearings. "Drop it, or I swear to god, you're going to jail for ten years and you'll come out as a registered sex offender! Don't think I won't!"
"I can't just fucking drop it, it's not that simple!" Kip protested from the bedroom.
"Yes, it is."
"No it's not!"
"I'm going there," I said, grabbing my coat off the table. "I'm going to the police station right now, right fucking now, you hear?"
Kip stumbled out of the bedroom, one hand clutching his nose. "No! No, wait!"
I stopped.
"I'll drop the suit," Kip promised, eyes wide and panicked. "I'll drop it, the whole thing, but please don't go to the police. Please. I didn't do anything."
"Neither did Brian," I shot back.
"I'll drop the lawsuit tonight, at six, when I meet with my lawyer before the closing arguments-I swear, I promise!"
"I'll know if you don't," I said threateningly. "So you'd better fucking drop it. Otherwise, I'm going to the police. Tonight."
Kip nodded rapidly.
I looked at him with nothing short of disgust.
"You won't go to the police, will you?" Kip pleaded.
"I'm going to go home and wait," I said.
"Fuck," Kip breathed, slumping against the wall.
I slammed the door behind me.
*
I'm not quite sure how I made it home after that. I was on autopilot, my mind racing and the adrenaline still pumping through my body, and the only reason I didn't just sit in the driver's seat of the car and shake helplessly for fifteen minutes was because I needed to get the fuck away from Kip's apartment building. And then I got back to Debbie's house, and Daphne was there, and I couldn't freak out in front of her. I'd had a hard enough time convincing her I was fine when she'd seen me at the Big Q.
I sent Daphne home. I put Luke in his crib.
Alone on my bed, the door to my room shut even though Debbie and Vic were at that PFLAG spaghetti dinner for the night, I finally let myself begin to shake.
"I don't think there's permanent damage," I told Luke, who was poking at the bag of ice on my hand with interest. "Maybe a sprain and some really bad bruising. I think Debbie has an Ace bandage around here somewhere."
Luke looked up at me, his eyes meeting mine, and his face split into a grin.
I stuck out my tongue at him.
"Bye!" he said, giving me a one-handed wave.
"What, are you going somewhere?" I asked, amused.
"Bye-bye," Luke replied, bringing his hand back down to grip the couch.
I shifted slightly, wincing. "Because there's no way Daddy's going anywhere for a while… Fuck. Fucking Chris Hobbs."
I was sprawled out on the couch, recovering from the ordeal of only being able to handle Luke with one arm and waiting for the four ibuprofen I'd taken to kick in. I didn't want to move. Just being alive hurt, and every little twitch only amplified the pain.
My head fell back onto the couch and I tried not to groan in pain. Luke was coasting around the coffee table, murmuring quietly, and I was currently trying to find the strength to put him to bed soon. It was hypothetically bath night. There was no way that was happening. My hand was killing me, and I needed an Ace bandage around it before I could do anything remotely productive at all-
Oh, fuck. And I had a shift at the diner tomorrow.
Fuck. I fucking needed that fucking money. Thanks a lot, Hobbs.
And fuck did my hand hurt!
I was just starting to work myself into a good fit of suppressed sobs when there was a loud knock at the door.
Right. Like I was moving.
Luke had frozen at the coffee table, and was now staring at the door with wide eyes.
There were two more knocks, louder than the first.
"Fuck off," I groaned, bringing a hand up to rub at my eyes-and then cringing as my entire torso flashed with pain.
The sound of the door swinging open made my eyes shoot open again.
Brian.
"What the fuck are you laying on the couch for?" he demanded, striding in with a broad grin on his face. "Get your ass up, we're going to Babylon, they dropped the fucking laws-"
And he stopped.
I winced.
It was almost painfully easy to see the transition of emotion on his face as he took in the icepack on my hand and the bruise on my face, and probably a zillion other small signs that all indicated that I was pretty battered and beaten. The pure glee that had initially been present on his face vanished, and rage was slowly building on its ruins.
Brian's eyes blazed as he advanced, and when he spoke, his voice was taut with fury.
"What-did-you-do?"
Part 16
Author: methylethyl
Rating: NC-17
Summary: Justin watches the last vestiges of support crumble beneath his feet, sending him into freefall. He can only close his eyes and pray he’ll land somewhere soft.
Disclaimer: QAF & Co. does not belong to me.
Breakneck
Chapter 15: Howl
That night was the night of Brian's primary hearing.
There was, of course, no word from him the entire night on how it had went, and I got his voicemail when I tried to call his cell phone. Debbie pointed out, repeatedly, that I had more important things to worry about right now, and reluctantly, I agreed to wait until morning when I could ask Melanie how things had gone.
Luke went down easily despite the fact that it was bath night, and I sketched for a few hours before going to bed. Despite my worries about Brian, I went down almost as fast as Luke had.
*
I arrived at Melanie and Lindsay's place ten minutes early. (Was it still technically their place? Brian had said that they'd split, but he hadn't given any details about the physical arrangements that had been made…)
"How did the hearing go?" I asked, as soon as Melanie had let me in the door.
Melanie looked grim. "Not well. Things are looking pretty bad, right now."
Fuck.
"We're hoping for more of an upswing at today's hearing," Melanie said. "And we've got tomorrow's hearing, too."
"There's a third one?" I asked, startled. "On a Saturday?"
Melanie nodded. "Yep. Two to four, and then closing arguments at seven. We get a verdict on Monday afternoon."
I bit my lip and peeled the blanket off of Luke's carrier. He was still sleeping-as was Gus, I assumed, given the silence-and probably wouldn't wake up for another twenty minutes.
"Is there a chance he'll come out okay? Is it completely hopeless?" I asked, a little more despair in my voice than I was comfortable hearing.
Despite my resolve, there was still a niggling doubt that I should have gone after Kip yesterday. I could have put this all to an end yesterday and I hadn't, and if Brian went down for this because I hadn't been prepared to risk Luke…
Christ. What was I saying? I couldn't risk Luke. I couldn't risk him for anything.
"It's not completely hopeless," Melanie answered, but her grim expression didn't change. "But there's a good chance that Thomas is going to get some kind of settlement out of this, and Brian'll get a big heavy black mark on his record. It won't be the end of the world. He won't lose his job or anything."
"But there's no way he'll be made partner if that happens," I protested. "You know that's all he wants!"
Melanie's mouth went into a thin line. "Yeah, well, the asshole should have thought about that before he went and fucked Thomas across his desk."
"You have to win," I said urgently. "You have to. If he loses this lawsuit…"
Melanie offered me a half-smile, reaching for her coat. "I'm doing my absolute best for him. I can't promise anything more."
I held in a sigh.
"Okay," Melanie said as she shrugged on her coat. "Gus should be awake before noon. His lunch is sitting out on the counter-you remember where everything is from last time. Help yourself to TV, food, whatever. Gus eats dinner around five-he's been eating like a garbage disposal ever since we started introducing solids, so don't hold back. Emergency numbers are on the fridge. Any questions?"
I shook my head. "Nope. Sounds good."
Melanie left.
Unfortunately, her slamming the door woke Luke up with a start. Fortunately, his initial reaction was to look around curiously, not to start screaming, and even more fortunately, the slamming of the door did not wake Gus. Or at least, there was no noise coming from upstairs. Just to check, I unbuckled Luke from his carrier, took off his winter garb, and carried him up to Gus' room.
Luke had been rather adorably fascinated by Gus the last time I'd babysat for Melanie and Lindsay. Gus hadn't really cared one way or the other, but Luke had followed him around for hours, babbling at him and grabbing him when I wasn't fast enough to pull his hands back. Catching sight of the baby in the crib now produced an excited string of syllables, but I quickly shushed him and hurried out of the room after determining that Gus was still asleep. Four-month-olds were cranky little things-no need to cut his nap short and piss him off even more.
Downstairs, I busied myself with Luke and the crayon I'd been trying to get him to take an interest in last night. I'd read in one of my baby books that one of the things an eleven-month-old might be able to do was scribble with a crayon, and though Luke wasn't quite eleven months old, I was intensely eager for him to learn to color. Fatherly pride, or some shit like that.
Luke was really more interested in eating the thing.
"Look," I told him patiently, moving his hand over the sheet of white computer paper and trying to get him to notice the blue streaks he was creating with my help. "Look at the pretty colors. See, we can make lines and circles… smiley faces…"
He really wasn't having it.
Luckily for Luke the phone rang just then, and I had to dive for it before it woke Gus.
"Peterson-Marcus residence," I answered breathlessly.
"Justin," Melanie's voice came over the line. "I want you to look on the dining room table for me-did I leave a stack of files there?"
"Uh…" I poked my head into the dining room. "Yep. There's three manila folders."
"Shit," Melanie swore.
"I can drive them up to your-oh, no, I've only got one car seat," I realized. "Shit. I guess I can't."
"No, no, it's okay. The roads are really bad today, anyway," Melanie said, half to herself. "I think I should be fine. Can you read me the names on the files? I'm pretty sure I don't need them until this afternoon…"
I had been heading back into the living room, where Luke was attempting to get himself down from the couch.
"Hang on," I said, as I scooped him up before he crawled right off. "I don't think so, buddy."
"Shit. I'm gonna have to cancel that lunch meeting with Harris, and he'll want to reschedule on Monday, I was supposed to watch Gus…" Melanie was definitely muttering to herself now, and probably consulting her planner.
I hurried into the dining room, Luke on my hip. "Okay. There's… Pollack, Omatete, and Kinney."
Kinney.
My eyes froze on the file, but Melanie was talking again.
"All right," she sighed. "I'll be there in about an hour and a half to pick them up. Thanks so much, Justin."
"Yeah," I said vaguely.
She hung up.
Slowly, I set the phone down on the table, my hand moving to the file labeled 'Kinney' in tight, blocked letters.
I opened the folder and sat down in the chair, letting Luke down on the ground.
Brian was losing this lawsuit. He was going to lose this lawsuit, and I didn't know what would happen after that. He was hurting without Michael. If he lost his best friend and his chance at becoming partner… And I could have done something to prevent it? How could I live with myself? How could I claim to love Brian if I wouldn't truly do anything for him?
But there was Luke. And Luke came before Brian.
Brian needed me now.
But Luke needed me now, and every minute of every day that would follow for the next seventeen years.
And Brian wouldn't even want my help, the stubborn bastard. He'd be so pissed if he knew I was even thinking about it.
But…
I stared down at Luke, who had pulled himself up using the chair next to me and was slapping the fabric on the seat of the chair.
A plan had already formed in my head and I had been helpless to stop it, my brain leaps and bounds ahead of my rationality. It was in my head, so clear and so clean and… and it would work… it would save Brian… I…
"Fuck it," I muttered, grabbing the phone.
I flipped through pages and pages of Melanie's notes until I started hitting printed documents, until finally, about half-way through, there was something with Kip Thomas' contact information.
"Gotcha," I breathed, turning on the phone and punching in his phone number (which was shaped like a rhombus, incidentally). Kip Thomas was going down, he was going down, he was going-
"Da?"
I froze, my finger paused over the 'Call' button.
Little hands grasped at my thigh, and I looked down to see Luke staring right back up at me, eyes wide.
"Fuck," I swore.
"Buh?" Luke asked, raising his arms up to me.
"Fuck," I said again, setting the phone down. I leaned over and swung Luke up onto my lap obligingly. "All right. You win. You saved Daddy from doing something stupid again."
At that moment, apparently, both babies in the house decided to conspire against my plan to help Brian, because the sound of Gus wailing from upstairs suddenly drifted into the dining room. I heaved a sigh, shut the folder, and went to go see what was wrong with Gus.
*
Lindsay got back a bit late, and I barely had enough time to run back to the house to drop Luke off and hear that Pam had left me a message before I had to run out for my shift at the diner. Between the cash I'd made babysitting Gus and the tips I was going to make tonight, I had serious plans to go shopping tomorrow.
It was the first time I'd worked with Debbie at the diner, and that was… an experience. I liked it, really. Debbie was completely at home in the middle of the Friday night rush, and even though I started flagging around nine, she kept me going like a slave driver. I found my respect for her multiplying into something like reverence by the time ten o'clock rolled around.
"C'mon, Sunshine," she said, snapping her fingers at me as I wiped another table off. "Table four needs water and table seven's out of ketchup. Let's go!"
"Right," I said, wondering when I had last sat down.
Debbie slapped my ass. "Hop-to. Three more hours!"
I held in a groan.
Debbie made to move away, but then she stopped and let out a cackle. "Oh," she added, leaning back in, "and when you get the chance, wait on that guy who just sat down at the counter."
I glanced at the bar miserably-then instantly brightened.
Brian!
Guilt descended as I remembered how I'd chickened out of calling Kip earlier today, but I shoved it away. Brian would be my bright spot of the night, regardless of his present situation and my struggle not to help him.
I finished wiping off the table, poured table four their water and grabbed a new bottle of ketchup for table seven, all in record timing, and then I bounced up to Brian.
"Hi!"
Brian's eyebrows rose. "So, they liked your references, then? Or was it your scintillating portfolio that really convinced them to give you the job?"
I lifted my chin. "They saw my resume and picked me. I got it on my own merit and that's all I care about."
"Christ," Brian muttered.
"I said wait on him, Sunshine, not take your break with him!" Debbie yelled from across the diner, making me start.
"What can I get you?" I asked quickly, pulling out my pad.
Brian gave me a half-hearted smirk. "My job back?"
I almost dropped my pen.
My next thought was Yes, I could. I didn't, though.
"You lost your job?" I asked, swallowing and trying to figure out if my voice sounded strange. "I-I thought you didn't get a verdict on the lawsuit until Monday. I just talked to Melanie this morning and she said-"
"Oh, don't be a princess," Brian interrupted, rolling his eyes. "I was kidding. I'm not going to lose my job. Just, you know, any shot I ever had at making partner. My client list. I'll probably be blacklisted for the next few years. Nothing life threatening."
He was trying and failing to keep the bitterness out of his voice.
"And Michael's still being a dick?" I asked, while desperately fighting back the urge to ask if there was anything that I could do. I knew that Brian had only to say the word, and I might not be able to hold myself back from helping any longer.
Brian's smile was wry. "Yep. Just like I wanted."
I hesitated. "…Lindsay?"
"Busy breaking up with Mel," Brian said, shrugging.
"I-" I stopped myself, but my mouth had opened and it had started to tumble out, I couldn't hold it in, I couldn't hold it back- "Is there anything I can do?"
Brian snorted. "You? My seventeen-year-old stalker?"
I bit my lip and shrugged.
"What could you do?" Brian asked derisively. "Get back to work. Go home to your kid, work on your little college applications with your little friends-that's what you can do."
"I-"
I wanted to yell, scream that I'd had plans, schemes that would have saved him that I'd passed up on because I'd chosen Luke over him-Brian was seeing me as some dumb kid, just like everyone did, just like he'd never done-even though I was so much more than that-and-and fuck him! Fuck you, I wanted to scream, and the effort of holding it in made tears prickle in my eyes.
My jaw set, teeth grinding together.
"Sunshine!" Debbie snapped. "Let's go! And get the mop out of the back-people keep tracking in snow."
"Coffee, black," Brian ordered.
"Coming right up," I ground out, before marching away.
Someone was getting jizz in his coffee.
*
Despite the jizz in his coffee, and the fact that he'd just been bitching about how he was soon going to be out of a job, Brian left me a ridiculously large tip. Asshole. Just when I was good and mad at him, he had to go and do something nice.
So the following morning, after I finished my breakfast shift at the diner, I trooped out to complete my Christmas shopping for Luke and to pick up a few things for myself-namely, a new sketchpad and a few new pencils. But baby stuff ended up being more expensive than I'd thought, so I had to abandon my usual art supply shop and instead venture over to the Big Q. They didn't have as high quality pencils as I was used to, but they were three dollars cheaper, so I could live with it.
My luck being what it was, Michael was working. But because he apparently possessed a certain degree of professionalism while at work, he didn't so much as scowl at me. In return, I made my purchases as quickly as I could.
But it was as I was hustling out of the Big Q, Luke in his carrier hanging off of my arm as usual, that someone called my name.
"Hey! Taylor!"
My head whipped around, and I saw Chris Hobbs and getting out of a car parked several spots in front of mine.
"Oh, look, and it's little baby Taylor, too!"
Shit. Fuck. Balls.
I was going to have to pass him to get to my car. I was also pretty sure that Chris wouldn't do anything to hurt a baby-me, yes, but an innocent little baby? No way. So I might be safe.
"Is that what you've got under that blanket, Taylor?" Chris asked, meeting me halfway and stooping over the carrier. "The little faggot baby?"
"What's under the blanket is my son," I said with forced calm. "And I'd appreciate it if you'd just leave us alone."
Chris reached out for the blanket, but I jerked the carrier back, taking several steps away from him. Chris looked up at me with a sadistic grin.
"I just wanna see it. I wanna see what a little faggot baby looks like."
"Yeah, well, Google it," I snapped, my heart racing. I suddenly hated the carrier. I couldn't run, I couldn't hold Luke to my chest, I couldn't even see his face because of that damn blanket.
"Why don't you want me to see him?" Chris asked, advancing.
I walked backwards as he came forward, my footing awkward on the not-quite-icy parking lot. "Chris, please. He's just a baby. You can bully me all you want in school, but leave him alone."
"Bully?" Chris snorted, still advancing. "I don't bully you, I just give you what you're asking for. If you weren't such a little faggot all the time-"
I stumbled into the back of a car, and used my free hand to steady myself as I almost slipped.
"-maybe I'd leave you alone. So why don't you just show me the baby, Taylor?"
Chris had me against the car, standing less than two feet away from me, and I was stuck. I couldn't run. I couldn't lash out at him, because I didn't know what he would do if I provoked him. I couldn't cry for help, there wasn't anyone around.
My heart raced. My palms were sweaty, and all I could think was get out, get out, get out, get out…
Chris smirked as he bent over the carrier, fingers reaching for the blanket as his face neared. "Now let's see the little faggot baby… Too bad I don't have a camera, I could have taken some pictures to show the-"
I rammed the edge of the carrier straight up into his nose.
"Motherfuck!" Chris bellowed, hands flying to his nose as he doubled over.
Underneath the blanket, Luke had burst into tears, either from the sudden jolt or from Chris' yell. Either way, it wasn't my primary concern at the moment. I pushed myself off from the van and made for the car-
A hand seized my calf and my feet lost traction with the icy parking lot, and I fell face-first on the ground, Luke's carrier somehow landing upright but the arm that had been holding it slamming down painfully onto one of the plastic ridges.
"Motherfucking piece of shit!" Chris spat, as pain suddenly exploded in my side. "Fucking faggot!"
Oh, God. Luke.
I reached a hand up to grab at the carrier, but mid-air Chris stomped it down to the ground, pinning it there and twisting my hand away from my arm.
"Aaugh!" I howled in pain, and I swung my body across the ground with all my might and drove my legs into Chris', kicking furiously at whatever I could make contact with. "Fuck off, get the fuck off of me, get off!"
Someone was yelling in the background.
My hand was released.
"Faggot," Chris snarled, driving another kick to my stomach.
Pain lanced through my torso and I curled into a fetal position before I registered the sound of footsteps. Footsteps running away. Chris was leaving.
"Hey! Hey! Get back here, you little punk!"
Michael.
Of course.
I heard the sound of a car starting, and wild thoughts about Chris running me over with his car suddenly spun into my head. I uncurled myself enough to grab Luke's carrier with my uninjured hand, pulling it toward me.
My stomach roiled and sharp pain shot up and down my abdomen, and I gritted my teeth. My hand was throbbing something awful. Luke was still bawling at the top of his lungs.
But the car was driving off in the opposite direction.
"Shit," I heard Michael mutter. "Shi-wait, Justin?"
I pushed myself up, not gasping in pain only with intense effort. The side of my face throbbed from where it had connected with the ice upon my fall to the ground, but I wasn't dizzy, and Chris had only gotten two or three kicks to my ribs so I could still breathe pretty well.
That fucker. So much for not hurting an innocent little baby.
"Are you all right?" Michael asked, crouching down beside me as I used my good hand to peel back the blanket over Luke. "Who the hell was that? Did you know him?"
He seemed actually concerned, too.
"I'm okay," I said, swallowing as my stomach roiled again. I used my good hand, which was shaking violently with adrenaline, to unbuckle the straps holding Luke in, and I slid my arm underneath his body and picked him up with one arm, bringing him close to me. I practically crushed him against my chest.
"Are you sure?" Michael asked worriedly. "We've got a first-aid kit back in the store…"
I nodded, tipping my head forward to press a kiss to the top of Luke's head as he continued to wail, though with less vigor now. "I'll be okay. He didn't do too much damage."
Talking hurt. My left cheekbone had been slammed into the ground when I'd fallen, and it was started to throb vigorously as the adrenaline wore off.
"Who the fuck was he?" Michael demanded.
"Just a-" Luke kicked my stomach, and for one grey moment, I was sure I was going to vomit. But I swallowed and forced myself to plunge onward. "Just an asshole from school."
"I'm gonna call the cops," Michael muttered. "C'mon, let's get you inside. They'll wanna take your statement-"
I shook my head. "I'm fine. You don't have to call the cops or anything, I'm fine."
Michael frowned. "But-"
"Really," I interrupted. "I'm fine."
Lord, if there was one thing I did not want, it was for someone to call the fucking cops.
"Are you sure you're all right?" he pressed. "Let me at least call Ma and tell her to come pick you up."
"I can drive just fine," I said irritably.
Michael scowled at me. "Look, I'm only trying to help."
Luke had finally quieted down to snuffling, face buried into the V where my coat had come unzipped, exposing my hoodie underneath, and one mitten-covered hand trying unsuccessfully to latch onto the fabric of my coat.
"I appreciate it," I said, with forced calm. "But I'm fine. I'll drive home, take some pain meds, put Luke down for a nap, and spend the next few days looking like an abused little waif, and then I'll…"
I trailed off.
Another plan to save Brian had snapped itself together in my head, out of nowhere. I could-it was almost four-and I'd call Daphne-
"Justin?" Michael asked, frowning. "It's fucking cold out, can we at least go inside the store to talk about this?"
I swallowed. Brian's words from last night rang in my head.
"What could you do?" he'd snorted, so derisive and condescending and sure of himself. "What could you do?"
Well, fuck you, Brian.
Here's what I can do.
I raised my head and looked Michael in the eye. "Yeah, let's go inside. I need to borrow your cell phone for a few minutes."
*
Michael brought me to the break room, where three overweight women immediately descended upon Luke, cooing and making kissy noises. Even Michael looked revolted. Luke, though, was in heaven, giggling and waving at them from the safety of my arm (my left hand was completely out of commission-it was already starting to swell and darken). I had to put him back in his carrier when I went to use Michael's cell phone, but I stayed close so that he could keep me in sight.
"Chanders residence," Daphne answered sweetly.
"Hey," I said. "It's Justin. I need a few favors."
"Favors? What's in it for me?"
"Daphne, please," I said, my voice strained.
Daphne was immediately serious. "Justin, what's wrong? Is everything okay?"
"It's-it'll be fine," I said. "I need you to do two things for me. It's really important."
"Anything."
"I want you to look up the address attached to this phone number-are you ready?"
"Yeah, there's a pen here… Go."
I pictured the keypad of the phone in my head, saw the rhombus of Kip Thomas' phone number, and reeled it off for her.
"I'll look it up online, but you know we've got dial-up, so I'm gonna have to hang up…"
"That's fine," I said quickly. "The other thing is, can you watch Luke for an hour or two?"
"Now?" Daphne sounded startled.
"Yeah."
"Uh… Sure. But you know I've got my grandparents' anniversary party tonight."
"It shouldn't take that long. Thank you," I said, letting out a relieved sigh. "Can you come pick him up? I'm at the Big Q over on Chester."
"Yeah. Justin, what's going on?"
"I…"
I glanced over at Luke, who was being fawned over and loving every minute of it, and then to Michael, who was staring at me curiously, probably completely baffled by my end of the conversation.
"I'll explain later," I said finally.
If I tried to explain what the hell I was doing, I might realize how stupid it was and back out. But I couldn't back out. Not now. Not when I had the chance to fight for something, to make something in my life right again.
"I'll be there in fifteen minutes," Daphne promised, after a pause.
I hung up and turned to Michael, handing his cell phone back. He handed me two little white pills.
"What is it?" I asked, poking one.
Michael looked at me incredulously. "What, you think I'm trying to drug you? It's Tylenol. Jesus."
I held them out. "I'm allergic to Tylenol. There isn't any ibuprofen, is there?"
"Oh," Michael said, having the grace to look slightly abashed. "No, this is all that was in the first aid kit. Sorry…"
"I've got Midol in my purse," one of the overweight women gathered around Luke offered.
"That's okay," I said. "Really. Thanks, though."
She shrugged and went back to cooing over Luke.
I sat back in my chair, closing my eyes.
*
Kip's apartment was located on top of a little sandwich bistro place. I got there a little after four, and after checking my face in the bathroom to ensure that my cheek hadn't started to bruise yet (it hadn't) and ordering an ice water that I kept against my throbbing left hand, I sat down at a table near the window and pretended to read the newspaper.
I lucked out when Kip actually walked into the bistro about fifteen minutes later. I'd been planning to corner him just outside his apartment and hope for the best, but this was even better.
He ordered a sandwich and stood around as it was made, browsing the selection of imported coffee beans and looking disgustingly cheerful as he did so. Clearly, the hearings had been going well for him, today.
I folded up my newspaper and stood, summoning every last reserve of strength I had. This was no time for nerves. This was no time for being a pussy about a little pain in my torso. It was action time.
Calm settled over me, and there was a faint ringing in my ears as I approached.
"Hey there," I said, leaning against the rack of coffees and keeping my bad hand carefully jammed into my coat pocket.
Kip looked up with an expression of mild surprise. "Can I help you?"
I grinned lazily, ignoring the throb of pain from my cheekbone. "I don't know, can you?"
"If you're gonna feed me lines like that, no, not really," Kip replied, returning to the coffees.
Shit.
"You know what shuts me up real good?" I asked, leaning in.
Kip glanced up. "A fifty?"
"A big, fat cock in my mouth," I said in a low voice, licking my lips. "Or a big, fat cock up my ass. Or my own big, fat cock in my mouth. Ever seen someone do that?"
Kip's eyebrows shot up at my words. "Well," he said, at length. "Aren't you the dirty one?"
I smirked. Slowly.
Kip exhaled. "Look, I don't have a lot of time, I've got to get back-"
"I can be quick," I promised, not letting my seductive tone drop. I took a step toward him, bringing my good hand up and tugging on the lapel of his suit, letting a little smile play at my lips. "C'mon. You got a car or something around here?"
Kip mentally debated for a few more minutes, and then his order was called.
"I live upstairs," he finally said, sighing. "But we've got to be quick. I've got a meeting at six."
Right. Closing arguments were at seven, but his lawyer probably wanted him there a little early.
Kip collected his sandwich and then led me out of the bistro, into the apartment building and up to his apartment.
"I'm gonna pop this into the fridge," Kip said, gesturing at the sandwich. "You can go…"
"Which way to the bedroom?" I asked.
He pointed, but then frowned at me. "You've got… there's something on your face."
I raised a hand to my left cheek, feeling the heated skin, and realized that the bruise must have started to show. Fuck.
"I'll see you there," I promised, before I sashayed down the hallway and into the bedroom.
My chest ached from the kick to the ribs every time I took in a breath, and my abdomen was still twinging painfully every time I moved. My hand throbbed like a bitch. It was taking effort to keep up this façade, and I knew that as soon as I got back to Debbie's, I was going to collapse on my bed and drown myself in painkillers. Everything hurt.
I kept the lights in the bedroom off, but because it was winter, the sun was setting at this point and casting the room in a red-gold glow.
Kip joined moments later.
I pulled my mask back together and moved toward him seductively, ignoring my pain.
"You're so hot," I murmured, using my good hand to guide his face to mine.
We kissed once, twice, three times, and I thought I was going to be sick. Eugh. His lips were thin and flappy, like a fish, and I couldn't stand the feeling. It was a relief when he started moving downward.
"Blow me," I whispered.
Kip slid a hand into the back of my pants, cupping my ass. "I thought you could suck yourself off?"
I smirked. "Oh, I can. But you've gotta take the edge off, first. I'm too fucking horny to last right now."
Apparently, that was agreeable, because he started undoing the button of my jeans.
I waited until he was down on his knees and just putting the head of my cock into his mouth to speak again.
"It's a curse of youth, I guess," I sighed, looking down and putting a hand in his hair. "They say you don't start gaining real endurance until you're at least nineteen."
Kip paused, looking up at me warily. "How old are you?"
I bit my lip. "If I tell you, you've gotta promise not to freak out, okay? The last guy really freaked out on me-he was paranoid about getting arrested for molestation and labeled as a sex offender for the rest of his life or some shit like that. I mean, jeeze, Dad beats up one guy on Liberty Avenue, and suddenly, no one wants to fuck you…"
Kip's eyes were wide.
"You promise not to freak?" I asked.
"Well-well, you're not going to tell anyone, are you?" Kip asked, sounding slightly nervous.
"Tell them what? That you molested me?" I asked.
Kip nodded.
I smiled down at him. "Of course not. But I'll tell them that you attacked and tried to rape me, if you don't do what I say."
Kip's mouth fell open.
I raised my shirt slowly, and sure enough, there were darkened patterns of bruising on my stomach and ribs. "These aren't even an hour old, yet. I've got your saliva on my dick. And everyone knows what sick perverts we faggots are."
"You little-"
Kip had started to stand, but I had a hand on the back of his head and I forced his face down as my knee shot up, and his nose slammed right into my kneecap.
He let out a howl of pain, hands flying to his face.
Two noses smashed in one day. I was starting to feel a little bit like a one-trick pony.
"Drop the lawsuit against Brian Kinney," I ordered, jumping back from him and yanking my pants up. "Drop it tonight, at the closing arguments, or I'll go to the police."
"You're here for Kinney?" Kip demanded, raising his head. Blood was streaming down his face.
I was panting, standing in the doorframe and ready to bolt. I had only to grab my coat off the kitchen table and I could be gone. I was high on adrenaline again. The pain was now barely there, just skirting on the edges of existence, and I was ready to fight. I was ready to win.
"Drop the lawsuit," I repeated.
"Kinney's little bitch running errands," Kip spat, struggling to a standing position.
"Drop the lawsuit, you little lying sack of shit!" I yelled, backing out of the room before he got his bearings. "Drop it, or I swear to god, you're going to jail for ten years and you'll come out as a registered sex offender! Don't think I won't!"
"I can't just fucking drop it, it's not that simple!" Kip protested from the bedroom.
"Yes, it is."
"No it's not!"
"I'm going there," I said, grabbing my coat off the table. "I'm going to the police station right now, right fucking now, you hear?"
Kip stumbled out of the bedroom, one hand clutching his nose. "No! No, wait!"
I stopped.
"I'll drop the suit," Kip promised, eyes wide and panicked. "I'll drop it, the whole thing, but please don't go to the police. Please. I didn't do anything."
"Neither did Brian," I shot back.
"I'll drop the lawsuit tonight, at six, when I meet with my lawyer before the closing arguments-I swear, I promise!"
"I'll know if you don't," I said threateningly. "So you'd better fucking drop it. Otherwise, I'm going to the police. Tonight."
Kip nodded rapidly.
I looked at him with nothing short of disgust.
"You won't go to the police, will you?" Kip pleaded.
"I'm going to go home and wait," I said.
"Fuck," Kip breathed, slumping against the wall.
I slammed the door behind me.
*
I'm not quite sure how I made it home after that. I was on autopilot, my mind racing and the adrenaline still pumping through my body, and the only reason I didn't just sit in the driver's seat of the car and shake helplessly for fifteen minutes was because I needed to get the fuck away from Kip's apartment building. And then I got back to Debbie's house, and Daphne was there, and I couldn't freak out in front of her. I'd had a hard enough time convincing her I was fine when she'd seen me at the Big Q.
I sent Daphne home. I put Luke in his crib.
Alone on my bed, the door to my room shut even though Debbie and Vic were at that PFLAG spaghetti dinner for the night, I finally let myself begin to shake.
"I don't think there's permanent damage," I told Luke, who was poking at the bag of ice on my hand with interest. "Maybe a sprain and some really bad bruising. I think Debbie has an Ace bandage around here somewhere."
Luke looked up at me, his eyes meeting mine, and his face split into a grin.
I stuck out my tongue at him.
"Bye!" he said, giving me a one-handed wave.
"What, are you going somewhere?" I asked, amused.
"Bye-bye," Luke replied, bringing his hand back down to grip the couch.
I shifted slightly, wincing. "Because there's no way Daddy's going anywhere for a while… Fuck. Fucking Chris Hobbs."
I was sprawled out on the couch, recovering from the ordeal of only being able to handle Luke with one arm and waiting for the four ibuprofen I'd taken to kick in. I didn't want to move. Just being alive hurt, and every little twitch only amplified the pain.
My head fell back onto the couch and I tried not to groan in pain. Luke was coasting around the coffee table, murmuring quietly, and I was currently trying to find the strength to put him to bed soon. It was hypothetically bath night. There was no way that was happening. My hand was killing me, and I needed an Ace bandage around it before I could do anything remotely productive at all-
Oh, fuck. And I had a shift at the diner tomorrow.
Fuck. I fucking needed that fucking money. Thanks a lot, Hobbs.
And fuck did my hand hurt!
I was just starting to work myself into a good fit of suppressed sobs when there was a loud knock at the door.
Right. Like I was moving.
Luke had frozen at the coffee table, and was now staring at the door with wide eyes.
There were two more knocks, louder than the first.
"Fuck off," I groaned, bringing a hand up to rub at my eyes-and then cringing as my entire torso flashed with pain.
The sound of the door swinging open made my eyes shoot open again.
Brian.
"What the fuck are you laying on the couch for?" he demanded, striding in with a broad grin on his face. "Get your ass up, we're going to Babylon, they dropped the fucking laws-"
And he stopped.
I winced.
It was almost painfully easy to see the transition of emotion on his face as he took in the icepack on my hand and the bruise on my face, and probably a zillion other small signs that all indicated that I was pretty battered and beaten. The pure glee that had initially been present on his face vanished, and rage was slowly building on its ruins.
Brian's eyes blazed as he advanced, and when he spoke, his voice was taut with fury.
"What-did-you-do?"
Part 16