Justin’s appearance at Vangard was a total surprise. Sure,…he has the skills and the need for an internship, but I thought he’d probably do more classic art than advertising stuff. As much as I missed him, I wasn’t too keen on the idea of mixing business with denied- pleasure; he’s too much of a distraction. I keep imagining him naked under blue lights…not something you want to think about when you’re trying to sell sunglasses. The ubiquitous Justin Taylor. I had a hint that the relationship with the violinist wasn’t working-out. The fact that it was over made me want him even more. I started to be suspicious with his greeting, “Fancy meeting you here.” As if it was some kind of surprise to find me at Babylon? I was on to him. He knew where to find me; first at- work, and then at Babylon. He was telling me in no uncertain terms that the violinist was out of the picture. “No rush. I have all night,” he said. And then he blind-sided me in front of a client. What’s with this “Orange-is-the-new- blue” shit? (I’m still partial to blue, if you haven’t noticed.) I’ve fired interns for less than that. “Lesson One: you fuck-up, you’re fired.” But when he kissed me, I suddenly knew why he was there…not for a job…not for an internship…but as a way of telling me things could be back the way they were. I didn’t take him back, at first. He’s the one who made the rules and then broke them. He’s the one who lied. He’s the one who walked- out when he didn’t hear what he wanted to hear. And he’s the one who broke-it-off in front of a couple hundred friends, past-tricks, and potential tricks at Babylon. Taking him back only would have opened up the possibilities of new hurts the first time he didn’t hear what he wanted. He was playing me like a (dare I say?) violin…a smooth talker who worked all the angles. I couldn’t have been more convincing myself. “You would have told me that you loved me,” he said. “…that you would go on loving me even after I was gone. But, as usual, you never said it…so it’s just as well that I go.” He needed to learn the lesson: that you’ve got to be tough to get by as a gay-boy in a hetero-world. It’s not something you can learn by hearing about it; you need to experience it…to take your lumps…to know your limits… to be self-sufficient …and to fight for what you want. Those are accomplishments to celebrate. No one will hand it to you on a silver platter. But the kiss showed the boy had balls. He was fighting for what he wanted in all the ways he knew how. He took a chance…and I enjoyed it. When he came to my office that night, it was as if he’d never been away. And he’s mastered the Kinney-bullshit; he can do it as well as I do. I always say that I talk 40% bullshit and 60% God’s-honest-truth. The “bullshit” is 10% sarcastic, deprecating humor;10% sexual innuendo; 10% Kinney-façade; and 10% throw-it-in-your-face challenge. We talked as if we were discussing his new/old job, but, in-fact, we both knew we were discussing something much bigger. I let him know I was onto him with my comment about violin music. (Actually, I don’t have anything against violin music; it was the artist I’d rather not remember.) How does the Greek saying go? “When the fox is 100, her offspring is 110.” The teacher was almost surpassed by his pupil…and I loved it. But it wasn’t as if I was “taking him back.” The man who came back to me was two feet taller than the boy who left. He’d learned a lot about life and love in the months he’d been away. He was ready to stand face-to-face with me, mature beyond his years. I remembered his bravery after the bashing. He had helped me when I needed him. [Deb had told me about his role in exonerating me in the nephew-fiasco.] The old saying is true: “If you love something, let it go…and if it doesn’t return, it was never yours to begin with…and if it does return, then it’s yours forever.” I’m not a big believer in the “forever” part, but I’ll take what I can get, day-by-day. He has the strength to stand beside me. He’s a part of my life now in a way unlike all the others.