When Irish Eyes are Smiling – chapter two
Author: Elsa Rose Bryant

Some things change and some things stay the same and for the tall dark and brooding man captured in his tower, it was occasionally hard to know the difference. Years drifted by, barely acknowledged passages of time. For in the life of the Irish author, there were no birthdays or other special events to mark the course of time. And other than noting that the skies were filled with snow or rain or sunshine, he paid no attention to the various seasons of the year. 

That is until a certain blond stumbled briefly into his tower. 

At first it was little things. Things like longer walks through shadowed halls and dark stairwells. It was poking and prodding into the various apartments and rooms on each floor. It was an interest taken in maintaining the beauty of his vehicles in the parking area. And standing in front of the barred entrance, smelling city smells, watching the world of the alley at the rear of the building go by, day by day. 

It was reflected in the novel he finished and the new one he’d begun. And it was reflected in his demeanor. Not that he’d admit it to anyone. Certainly not to Fred or Sara or his agent or even his editor, someone who was sure she knew him well. No one knew him and that’s the way he liked it. 

Today, a rainy and miserable day, he remembered his favorite leather jacket had been left in the back seat of his jeep when he’d been polishing the interior. He wasn’t sure, but he suspected he’d even left the windows down. Not that he was going to get rained on. His jeep was parked in the furthest corner away from the barred entrance. 

Perhaps it was an excuse of sorts. He was more restless than usual when one of his plots bogged down. As he passed through the lobby of the building, Brian glanced as he did frequently, toward the store across the street. Sure enough, standing in the shelter of the store awning was his blond building stalker busy sketching god knows what. , occasionally glancing toward the Rosewood Building. Brian had to give the kid credit for persistence. He rarely missed a day watching the building for what, Brian had no idea. Shaking his head, Brian continued to the parking level. He shrugged his neck lower into the shirt he wore. The wet wind whistled around the support pillars, colder than he realized. He would be glad to get his jacket. 

As he reached into the back seat, something white moved near the black leather. Brian jumped back and then with more caution, reached in again. A plaintiff cry that was more a mewl than anything else went right to his soft Irish heart. “Hey” he whispered, afraid his voice was going to frighten whatever was tucked into his jacket. Gently he pulled back one sleeve to reveal the tiniest cat he’d ever seen nursing what looked like 4 pink mice. “What have you done with yourself darlin’?” the Irish in him clear. “Your babies look cold with barely only a fuzz of fur and you but a baby yourself.” He gently lifted all of them up using his jacket as a scoop. “I think I can find a place warmer than this one for your little family.” 

Trusting blue and one green eye looked into Brian’s. A soft, almost soundless meow came from pink lips as the mother cat allowed him to carry her and her family to a safe and warm place. “Fred.” Brian called on the intercom when he reached the lobby of the building. “I have something for you.” But there wasn’t any answer and he remembered that Fred and Sara were taking the weekend off. “Wonderful, cat. I guess it’s up to me to deal with you and your brood.”

He really had no idea what to do with the animals. He’d never owned any kind of a pet as a child and since his childhood had been sparse at best, Brian had never learned to deal with anyone other than himself. Even having Fred and Sara as his employees was occasionally trying for the solitary man. Though the two women did their best to keep out of his way. 

He almost turned back to leave the cat and kittens in a box near his jeep, when a rush of cold air as the door opened told him that it would be cruel. Sighing with all the drama he could muster, Brian walked up the stairs to his apartment. “You know cat, I hope you realize just how lucky you are. Anyone else with half a brain would put you in the alley. I mean if you must get yourself pregnant, you should have picked a more responsible father.”  

The mother cat ducked her head to hide her face in with her kittens. 

“I don’t blame you. Hide from the world. I can understand that.” Brian grinned as he entered the lower floor of his space. “I have no idea where to put you guys. I have to get you out of this jacket. There has to be something soft somewhere.” He headed to the bathroom. There were towels in the closet. He never paid a lot of attention to where Sara kept bedding. But he did know about the towels. The fact that they were more than fifty dollars each didn’t bother him. A towel was a towel as far as he was concerned. 

A vague memory of something he’d read or perhaps seen on television, told him that the cat and kittens would be more comfortable tucked away in a secluded corner somewhere. Taking a couple of deep blue towels with him, Brian opened a closet door and made a nest for the cat and kittens. He gently picked up each mewling kitten and put him or her on the towels. Mom cat followed quickly with a quick glare at Brian for disturbing her family. He sat back on his heels to look at them. The kittens were tiny with their eyes firmly closed. He wasn’t sure, but they looked darn fresh as far as he was concerned. He’d call a vet to come over and check them out. It didn’t occur to him that most vets didn’t make house calls. Where Brian Kinney was concerned, money talked the loudest when something was needed. 

Two hours later Brian found himself staring down at the mother cat and her kittens. “There they are Jamie.” 

“I see that Brian. Damn, the poor little thing looks like a kitten herself.” Jamie was a doctor of Veterinary medicine and someone Brian had helped once upon a time. Brian had never before asked anything from him. This visit was the very least he could do. He reached in and began to examine the mother cat and her kittens. “They all appear healthy, though mom could use some more nourishment. I don’t believe she’s been eating well.” He snapped his fingers on one side of her head and then the other. The cat continued to watch Brian sitting on the bed. “I do believe the little lady is deaf as well Brian. It’s not unusual with white cats, especially ones with two colored eyes. No doubt at least one or more of her babies will have the same problem.” 

“Deaf, a deaf cat?” Brian leaned forward to touch her ears with one finger. “That sucks.”

“I’m surprised she managed to survive wild. Deafness isn’t an asset for survival in the wild alleys in the city. Of course there’s the possibility her former owner got rid of her when she was found to pregnant.” 

Brian glowered at the idea of someone throwing the small cat out. “We’ll make a good team, little cat. I can tell you my secrets and know that you’ll never repeat them to a soul.” He grinned and again reached over to stroke her head with one finger. She was so small she did look like a kitten herself. “You and your children can stay here. It’s not like we don’t have the room.” 

Jamie laughed. “Your soft Irish heart is showing Brian.” He stood up. “I’ll send over everything you’ll need for mom and kids unless you want to come with me.” He knew that it wasn’t going to happen. Brian so rarely left his tower. 

“I can’t leave her alone. Should I feed her tuna or something while we wait?” 

“A bit of tuna won’t hurt and make sure she has lots of water. I’ll send her bathroom requirements; she should be okay for another hour. I doubt she’s comfortable leaving her kittens at the moment.”

“Thanks Jamie, I appreciate you doing this for me.”

“You know I’d do anything for you Brian. You’ve never let me repay you for your generosity.”

“It was an investment and see, I’m already reaping the rewards.” Brian’s hazel eyes twinkled. He’d always like this young man, someone he’d found on the street so many years ago. Jamie’s story had appeared in one of his best sellers, slightly disguised, but still recognizable to the boy who had hooted with laughter when he’d read it. 

“Well I have to admit, I’ve never thought of you as a cat person, but I know from experience that you’ll get a lot of pleasure from this little group. When mom stops nursing, I’ll give her, her shots. The kittens should be at least 8 weeks old before we do them. And Brian, for your peace of mind, I’d suggest we neuter everyone when the time is right.”

“I suppose we should.” Brian laughed. “I don’t want to be known as the old queen who lives in a building with six hundred cats.”

Both of them laughed at the thought. 

“I saw that you’re doing some work on the first floor.” Jamie commented as he packed up his bag.

“I’m considering renting part of the lower floor space to an artist.” Brian looked away, not wanting his friend to see the vulnerability in his eyes. “It’s something of an experiment for me, letting someone besides Fred and Sara into my world.” 

“Brian, if you don’t mind me saying so, it sure can’t hurt.” He wanted to give his mentor a hug, but knew that the older man didn’t allow anyone to touch him if it could be avoided. 

“No, but it can introduce complications in my life. You know I like to write without interruption.”

“Your cat family will do that.”

“Perhaps, but unlikely.” Brian shrugged. “They won’t talk or ask questions.” He was already planning on how to give the cat family access to the building so that he would have the least amount of convenience and yet not confine the animals to one floor. “And they’ll keep the mouse population down.” 

“I’m sure that’s been a problem.” Jamie laughed, looking around at his elegant and costly surroundings. 

“It could be.” Brian smiled. 

When Jamie had been seen to the door, Brian found two small crystal bowls. He put part of a can of white tuna chunks in one and filled the other with water. He was about to carry them to the mother cat when he turned around and found her staring at him from the kitchen island. 

“I’m not sure it’s polite to stand on the counter.”  Brian put the two dishes down in front of her. “But I suppose you’re too short to reach it from the stools. “Here’s some dinner, I’m working on getting you some proper food and if you don’t mind, hold off on any other activities until your bathroom facilities have been installed.”

The small cat looked at him with curiosity in her eyes before giving him what was, very surely, a small smile and then beginning to eat with a daintiness that belayed her hunger.

Brian sat with his elbows on the table, his chin on his hands as he watched his new friend eat. She had managed to keep herself clean while on the street, her white fur gleamed. He loved the way her small pink nose twitched as she ate.  “You, my dear lady cat, will appear in my next book.” He declared. She continued to eat as she had been unable to hear his voice. He was pleased to hear her purr and the more she filled her tummy, the louder it became. 

Brian spent the next week, catifying his Rosewood building, when he wasn’t holed up in his office writing. He was almost enjoying the company of the small white cat who would often leave her children to sit on his desk and watch his fingers as they typed on the keyboard. 

Fred knocked on the door before entering Brian’s office. “The alterations have been done to the second floor Boss.” She said. “Do you want to come and see?” 

“I’ll be there in a few minutes.” Brian hadn’t turned; he was busy with a paragraph he wanted to finish. 

“The kittens are walking all over your room, do you want me to relocate them?” Fred couldn’t stand cats and to now have to deal with five of them, more than pissed her off.

“They’re okay. It’s not like they can do much harm, they’re only a couple of weeks old.” 

“They’ve been sleeping on the velvet duvet all afternoon.” Fred crossed her arms. “Do you know how much it costs to dry clean that thing?”

“Of course they’ve been sleeping there. It was chilly in the closet and the duvet is warm. Mom cat will put them back later. She’s busy proof reading this chapter.” He scratched the cat on top of her head, rewarded with a purr. “Fred, don’t worry about it. The kittens are just being kittens. I think I can afford to have the duvet cleaned once or twice. Hell, I can buy them their own duvet.” He turned back to his computer and began to type. “Thank you for finishing the studio and apartment.” 

“You’re welcome.” Fred said grudgingly. “Sara wanted you to know that your dinner will be ready in an hour.” 

“Tell her thank you. I’ll clean up after dinner, she can have the evening off.” 

“But…” 

“I’m serious, have the evening off. The two of you deserve some time to yourselves.”

Brian went back to writing while Fred, shaking her head ,quietly left the room. In all the years she and her wife had worked for Brian, everything had gone alone pretty much on an even keel, until this year. It was the blond boy who changed the dynamics of everything. Though how she wasn’t sure. It was just something she could feel deep inside of her.

He waited to hear his office door shut. “There now mom cat, where were we?” Brian turned to the monitor and began to type, soon he was lost in his world of fantasy as he wove a tale of true love and romance that, surprisingly enough, had a small white cat and four kittens involved with bringing the two star crossed lovers together. 

Only when the small cat stood up, stretched and then jumped down off his desk, did Brian realize how much time had disappeared. He didn’t watch her leave, there had been cat doors installed in all doorways that normally remained closed, both in his apartment and throughout the building. He didn’t want the cats closed in anywhere. 

He stood up and stretched the kinks out of his shoulders before walking to his window and looking out and down. The familiar figure of Justin Taylor leaned against the window of the bakery across the street. Brian wasn’t surprised to see the sketchbook in his hand. Looking back at his office, he smiled at the two sketches on the wall, both of them of the Rosewood Building, one done in the morning light and one in the evening light. Justin had captured all the mystery of the old building in both pictures. He’d been walking down Liberty Avenue one evening, too early for most of the gay night walkers and too late for the younger ones, who had families to go home to and evenings filled with a different kind of gay. One that Brian knew nothing about first hand, but had only heard rumors about. 

The name Justin Taylor under a studio portrait of a young man told him that he was one of the artists whose work was on display inside. Proceeds of the sale of which would go to the GLC. He smiled, wondering if it was the Justin from his long ago past and stepped inside to see. The result was the purchase of two of the young man’s sketches that were a combination of ink with washes of barely there color.

Brian knew that the young man was definitely a talented artist and perhaps some day would have realized some fame with his art. He moved his chair so that he could sit and watch until Justin left for home. It was something he did regularly, sit by the window and weave fantasies that would eventually appear in the pages of whatever he was writing. A blond hero, or perhaps a blond twink, sometimes rescued, sometimes the rescuer, depending on his mood. 

Thinking back to the days he’d spent as he’d educated himself, Brian speculated once again about the first time he’d seen the boy who was so fascinated by a pile of stone and brick and mortar. He shut his eyes remembering the morning he’d arrived at the Taylor home almost twelve years before. The Taylors weren’t on his usual route. He cleaned pools and adjusted the equipment. It was his first company that he’d begun on his own. Low overhead, he slept in the back of the office he’d rented. An answering service took messages for him. He even had two employees once business had taken off. One of which now ran Outback Pool Service, the largest pool company in the city. He had sixty employees who only saw Sara once a week and never saw him. He’d given up visiting this particular company, preferring to trust the man who ran it for him and one of his oldest acquaintances, for he didn’t have any friends as far as he was concerned. 

Justin Taylor was five years old, blond, pale and very mouthy. It was something Brian would never forget, the way the child had followed him around asking question after question until he finally sat on the edge of the pool drawing with a set of markers that looked a lot like fine brushes. He’d never seen anything like them, but the kid was enthralled with the strokes they made. 

When he was getting ready to leave, Justin had handed him his drawing. “It’s a picture of you working.” He said with a slight lisp. “You’re very beautiful. It’s not very good, the picture I mean, but I’m going to get better.” He grinned up at Brian with a smile the man would never forget. 

The picture ripped from the sketchbook and carefully signed, <i> Justin Taylor age 5</i> also hung on his office wall, to remind him that there had been a day, long ago when someone had thought he was beautiful. It also provided inspiration on those rainy days when the words refused to form in his brain and allow themselves to be placed on the screen of his computer. 

Brian always smiled when his eyes found that long ago piece of art. Conservation glass had kept the colors bright. He wondered if there was any of the man in the painting left in his soul. Or had it all been buried so deep it would never be found.

And now like the princess in the tower, his prince was going to move in and live floors below. Only unlike fairy tales of old, Brian didn’t want to be rescued. He was satisfied with his life the way it was. He didn’t need complications, certainly not the complications a teenage boy could bring. No, he was happy to watch the boy develop into a man. If he could add a nudge or two here and there to help him, then so be it. 

The matter of the video surveillance, now that was another thing. Brian had agonized over it for a few weeks before reluctantly turning it off in the studio and the apartment below. He wanted to know about the life and habits of one Justin Taylor, artist, student and fellow resident, but to do so without the boy’s knowledge, he just couldn’t. 

Walking out of his office, he ignored the kitchen where his dinner lay ready to eat, though no doubt cold by now. Mom cat sat on the middle of his duvet having a bath, her kittens wrestling with each other. She looked up as he came into view and mouthed a silent meow. Brian liked to think she was saying hello and he waved and smiled but continued to the door to the apartment. He wanted to make sure that his instructions for the studio and apartment had been followed with no deviations. 

He walked the grand staircase, preferring it to the elevator no matter how regal the brass and mirrored thing was. Each floor was silent until he came to the third one. He could hear the tinkle of Sara’s laughter inside the apartment she shared with her long time partner. It always made him feel just a bit melancholy knowing they were so happy despite everything, including their age. And envious that they had what he craved and would never have. A meow made him glance down. “Hey Mom cat.” He said bending over to stroke her fur. She liked to know where he was all the time. Maybe he was turning into one of those reclusive old cat fags. “There are no cat doors on this floor. I’m afraid Fred isn’t too fond of you and your family.”


The second floor, like the others, had four doors leading off the corridor. He’d assigned Justin the left side of the building. It received the best light. The studio was at the rear and the two-bedroom apartment at the front of the building. A well-made cat door, cleverly disguised to look like it had always been there, graced each door. 

The studio looked ready. Brian had researched what would be required for an artist who attended PIFA, finding out that they explored different mediums. So he had a deep sink installed for cleaning up. A three-piece bathroom with shower, as well as plenty of storage. Lighting ranged from daylight to shadow, depending on how they were manipulated. He’d even made sure there was a light box and professional drafting table. 

In the apartment, he’d left the furnishings up to the blond. Knowing that he would hate someone to decide what he wanted to live with everyday. Though he had made sure there were built in bookcases complete with a desk. The boy needed a space for his homework.

Justin would be moving in less than a week. He hadn’t seen the place yet. Sara was going to show it to him tomorrow when she met him for the signing of the lease. She’d give him the keys then too. He wondered if it would count as spying if he watched from his tower while she showed the suites. Perhaps not, after all he was the landlord, he needed to know what Justin and Sara thought of the place. 

Brian was careful not to let himself been seen through the window, but he couldn’t resist checking to see if Justin was still watching the building. He sighed in disappointment when he failed to see the mop of blond hair bent intently over his sketchbook.

“Looks like he’s gone home Mom Cat.” Brian said as he scooped the cat up in his arms. “It’s going to be an interesting week or so while he moves in and decorates.” The cat snuggled close, she couldn’t hear the words, but she could feel the gentle rumble of the man’s voice. A pink tongue licked Brian’s neck, a kitty kiss, or did she just like the taste of the man she adored.

For Brian, who had a book due to send to his publisher, the next week was lost to his office, he barely had time to register much of anything outside of the world he was creating. Mom cat appeared off and on to sit and watch from her place on his desk and once or twice four kittens found their way in through the cat door to climb up the leather upholstery of the wing chair and jump to the padded window seat to view the world from a new perspective. 

A venturesome kitten or two occasionally managed to climb up a denim-clad leg to sleep in a ball on a warm lap, rewarded with casual pats in between paragraphs. Outside noises never penetrated the lair of Brian Kinney, writer. It was just the way the Irishman liked it. 

Finally, hitting send, his latest novel was on its way through cyber space to his editor and in turn, to his publisher. He leaned back in his chair and stretched his arms over his head working all the kinks out of his shoulders. He thought for a moment and then decided that he could take a peek through his video surveillance equipment at the emptiness of Justin’s Taylor’s new abode. He’d promised himself that he wouldn’t spy on the boy once he’d moved in, but it shouldn’t hurt now. After all, the place was empty, he wasn’t due to move in for another few days. Though Brian knew that he’d been given the keys by Sara.

Imagine his surprise when he flicked on the monitor to see a naked Justin, laying on the floor of his new studio, a joint in one hand and his cock in the other. The boy laid, his eyes glazed with a combination of lust and the drug, idly smoking, absentmindedly stroking a cock that looked larger than life on the slim teen. Brian could see an Ipod on the floor by the teen’s head, the wire earbud plugged into one shell pink ear. Brian laughed when he thought the words <i>shell pink</i> he was starting to sound like one of his own novels. Mom cat paid no attention to him, instead she watched the screen as one of her children had found its way into the blond’s studio.

“I think it’s Two.” Brian’s imagination didn’t extend to naming kittens. “The blond is going to get one big furry surprise when he pounces on his dick. The kitten, older now and braver than his brothers and sisters, was crouched down in the familiar to Brian stalking mode of a practicing tiger. 

He pulled up a comfortable chair; it was going to be interesting to see the blond’s reaction to his visitor. 

Justin must have seen the kitten because he smiled so brightly that Brian blinked. But he never missed a stroke with his cock, barely pausing to take one last drag from the joint that had now reached roach status. 

Two wandered closer, no longer stalking, instead he was just curious about what was happening in the room that normally held only an interesting bug or two. 

Brian eyes were locked on the spectacle of white flesh, not yet the body of the man he would be, but definitely on his way. Justin didn’t appear the least bit shy under the gaze of the white kitten.  His strokes began to speed up, precum in all its sticky slickness added ease in movement. The cat’s face came closer just as Justin shot his load half way across the room, laughing out loud as he tracked the distance shot. 

Wondering if he’d ever been that young to take such pleasure in how far his cum shot would go, Brian flicked off the monitor and turned back to his computer, the one he used to weave his stories. His mind was reeling from the sun that had shone in the night a few floors below. 

Working well into the night, a naked blond body always in the back of his mind, Brian began to work his Irish magic on yet another book. He had a feeling this one was going to be a best seller, better than usual. While he worked, he couldn’t help but wonder what it would be like to hold Justin close to him. To feel his smooth as silk skin brush against him. To taste his lips. To perhaps have someone to love, someone who loved him back. It was a dream. Sometimes a foolish dream, but one he liked to lull himself to sleep with on lonely Pittsburgh nights. 

Three nights later, sounds of laughter drifted up to Brian from the floors below. He was surprised that with all the renovations he’d done, that sound carried so easily through the hallways and up the staircases. He’d have to look into having it changed. But for now, he couldn’t resist watching what was going on. He wished he had sound from his spy cams, but pictures would have to do. One hand reached out to rub mom cat’s head in appreciation for her deafness. 

Brian watched, envy close to the surface, as Justin and his friends filled his apartment with furniture. Furniture like he’d never seen. He was almost certain that each item was from some designer he’d never run across before. The pieces were amazing from what he could tell. He was going to have to get Sara to find out where he could go to see what else the designer had to offer. It was apparent from the style and whimsical nature of the furniture that everything was from the same source. 

“Shit Mom Cat, that’s Mikey Novotny. I’d recognize him anywhere.” Brian moved closer to the monitor. “I don’t believe it, his mother’s here too. Fuck, what did I get myself into. I don’t, make that can’t, let them know I own this building.” He flicked the monitor off, almost afraid that if he looked any longer, they’d see him. 

Not caring about going through his usual routine of saving his latest work and shutting everything down before he left his office, Brian stalked out and into his living room. A few paces took him to the windows overlooking the front of the building. He glanced down, not surprised to see half a dozen people laughing as they helped move boxes and furniture. 

Unable to watch, he headed for the wide staircase that led to the top floor and his bedroom sanctuary. It also held the entrance to his rooftop garden and patio. Since his cat roomies had moved in, he’d had the patio secured by screens so that none of the cats could accidentally launch themselves off the building chasing a bird or a butterfly. It also gave him a sense of hidden security. Strictly an illusion, but a self-satisfying one. He pulled out a chaise, added a couple of pillows and grabbed a bottle of water from a small fridge that was kept stocked by Sara. 

The afternoon was a warm and it was pleasant on the roof. He liked the way the clouds drifted by. It wasn’t long before he was joined by his motley crew of cat and kittens. He watched the younger ones playing with something that rolled across the roof. Mom Cat perched on the foot of the chaise, keeping watch over her growing family. 

“Brian,” Sara stood beside him.

“Sara, I didn’t hear you.” Brian smiled up at her. “What’s up?” 

“Justin is moving in.” she began.

“I know.” 

“I think you should disconnect the cameras in Justin’s space. It isn’t right.”

“It’s none of your business.” Brian closed his eyes, not wanting to look at her directly. 

“It is my business. Justin is a nice young man. He would be devastated if he discovered you were spying on him.” She’d walked close enough for Brian to feel the heat of her breath. 

“I’m not spying on him.” 

“But you have been and you will continue to stare. I read your books. I know the kind of man you desire for yourself. Justin is that man, but he’s too young for you and far too innocent.”

“Thanks for the advice. Go bake a cake or something for your new neighbor.” 

Sara sniffed loudly as she left the patio. 

All Brian wanted to do was to forget the feelings of pain and loneliness that had returned when he’d seen part of his past life down on the second floor. He couldn’t forget how he’d felt when day after day he’d watched Michael being loved and coddled. His every whim looked after no matter what, while he was beaten and subjected to foul abuse. It had all been so long ago, and yet the memories flooded back like it had been only yesterday. He could almost smell the foul stench of sweat and stale beer, cheap cigarettes and something else he never could define, when his father came close. 

Mom cat, sensing her owner was upset, jumped up on his lap and butted her head into his chin, demanding he pat her.  Brian shook his head to clear away the memories of his former life. His hand sank into deep white fur that vibrated comfort. He wondered if he’d ever be able to rid himself of the scars that hid deep in his soul.  The scars on his skin had been easy enough to erase when money had become plentiful.  All but one, the burn mark on his chest. He kept that to remind him of where he’d been and what he could go back too if he didn’t watch himself. Debbie Novotny’s words that he’d overheard years before haunted him still. <i>“That Irish kid is no good, he’s just like his father, the fruit doesn’t fall far from the tree.“ </i> 
He and Michael had returned from a childish adventure, knees skinned, beer on their breath, and grinning like fools as they climbed through Michael’s bedroom window, only to find Debbie sitting in the dark waiting for them. She hadn’t been pleased.

It had been the beginning and the ending of Brian’s relationship with Michael. He knew he was bad, he’d heard it all of his life. Michael was too good, his mother too loving, there was no way Brian could inflict his kind of soulless life on people like that. So he drew back, a little at a time so as not to hurt Michael’s feelings. It was the least he could do for the people who had been kind to him when no one else had dared. For Jack Kinney’s wrath was legendary in their Pittsburgh neighborhood. 

And then the fire happened. Brian touched his chest, the fire that killed his father and killed his cousin Sean.  The boy, Sean, having run away from his own hell into one that only death allowed him to escape. Brian took the opportunity to lose himself forever. It hadn’t really been hard. No one actually gave a shit about one more teenage boy on the street. He was Irish and more intelligent than anyone realized. It hadn’t been that hard to become what he was today. All it had taken was the willingness to work his ass off twenty four seven, his goals firmly in place.

Keeping a low profile had always been easy, hard work a given. Loving, friendships, these things were counterproductive to his goals and he had no time for either. It was while he worked that he’d discovered there were families out there besides the Novotny’s that had love working with them. And it was the long lonely hours when he lay on his cheap mattress, that he had begun to weave fantasies that eventually had become novels and best sellers. Life worked strangely. It was a mantra of sorts he often muttered while he typed. 

And now his carefully crafted life was being threatened. Brian stood up, putting the cat on the floor and walked to where he could see to the street below. He wished he still smoked, or at least drank something strong and mind altering. Two things he refused to do. Damned if he was going to succumb to the stereotypical image of an Irish writer or his father. Mom cat rubbed against his ankle. He bent over and picked her up. “Hey, what in hell are we going to do?” he asked her. “I know some of these people. Or at least I used to know them in a far away life. And now my blond dream lover has moved in, my princess.” He laughed a laugh that was almost a giggle. “I’m fucked.” He sighed. “I should never have given into the plot of one of my books. This isn’t a novel I’m crafting where the young princess will fall in love with the aging and troubled prince. To live happily ever after or until the next book. This, my dear Mom cat, is real life and we both know that it sucks on occasion. 

Happily ever after doesn’t happen except on the pages of badly sentimental twaddle. Of which I apparently write well. It keeps us both in cat food.” He kissed her pink nose, his hand scratching her head. “I suppose I’ll just have to keep a lower than usual profile. I mean the kid won’t be here forever. He’s a kid and he has hopes and dreams and ambitions that should take him far away from this Tower with its captive beast.” Brian sighed dramatically. It was his fantasy after all; he could be a prince or a princess, whatever his story needed. 

“I think I’ll just sit here and watch the sky.” Brian went back to his lounge chair. Unfolding his long body, he stretched his legs to their fullest length. He talked to his small friend all the time. It didn’t matter if she couldn’t hear him. In fact, he sometimes thought it was better that way. 

As he watched the city sky change colors, he was joined by all the kittens. One by one they jumped up, taking their places on his body. Each one vibrating with quiet purrs. It was oddly comforting, knowing that they cared enough to sit on him. Though he rather suspected that any heat source would have the same effect. Cats like warmth, be it body or hot water bottle, or sun warmed roof top.