Indiscreet Box Set

Chapter 12

“Permission to speak freely, Sir,” Jim asked.

“Yes, go ahead, Jim. He told you something, I presume.”

“He’s afraid.”

“Of what? Me?” roared Bear.

“As if anyone would be afraid of little ole you, get serious man. Jim is on to something here. I can always tell,” Reed said.

Jim blushed and bowed his head. “Thank you, Master. May I continue, Sir?”

“Go ahead, Jim Boy,” Bear said with a terse nod of his head.

“Brian has been carrying heavy burdens for far too long.

His first homosexual experience made him feel unworthy and unlovable. His mother heaped everything to do with her illness onto his shoulders as soon as he graduated and came home from school.

“Until the day he saw her, he had no indication of what he faced. Brian assumed she had at least taken the preliminary steps to get Social Security and Disability along with Medicare when she first fell ill. Especially since he sent her the name and address of a pre-paid consultant to help her through the process, so he would be able to take his finals and graduate. She never made the call. When the consultant phoned her, she made appointments only to ignore them. She let everything just fall apart and waited for Brian to put it back together.” Jim started waving his hands around as he spoke.

“The Aunt is as crooked as the Jersey Mob and would like to keep Brian between a rock and a hard place for as long as she can. She gets his money and is on the first bus to Atlantic City. She leaves his mother with a half-drunk neighbor. The cub does not know this because I just got texted the information myself. I asked the PI to probe a little deeper in light of what happened. I hope I didn’t overstep my bounds, Sirs.”

“No, Jim, you didn’t. You did exactly what was necessary to keep the boy safe,” Reed said.

“Thank you, Master. Master Bear, I hope I didn’t offend.”

“No, Jim Boy, not at all. Have you any more information?”

“He thinks he needs to do all of this alone. He believes if he accepts help—even from people who love him—they will throw it back in his face later, believing all he ever wanted was his lover’s money. He is aware of what Antonio did to Bear. He is terrified Master Bear will see him as the same type of money hungry twink. Brian loves Master Bear.”

“How can he know so soon, Jim?” Reed asked. Jim began to pace the hallway.

“It’s something Master Bear might understand. Brian is a Celt, Irish descent, not Scottish. Some of the same abilities run through the entire gene pool, which encompasses Ireland, the Isles, Scotland, and Brittany. One inherited trait is something called ‘the sight.’ It runs stronger in some families than others.

I ran across a lot of it in the army. Some people were just plain lucky and always seemed to be out of the way when all hell broke loose. I just learned if I wanted to stay alive, I would bunk with them. It saved my ass more times than I care to count.”

Both Bear and Reed began to laugh.

“Okay, I walked right in to that one.” He wiggled his butt at them. “Master Reed, I would be happy to take strokes for that later.” Jim followed his comment with several overt battings of long black eyelashes encasing fine brown eyes. “But I’m dead serious here. Brian’s mother is descended from the O’Shea clan from County Limerick in Ireland. They were a small clan, but important for the number of clan members who served as senior advisors to Irish Chieftains, Princes, and High Kings. Every one of them had ‘the sight’ to some degree. It was rumored Arthur’s Merlin had an O’Shea in his family tree.”

“Jim, be still. When did you have the time to research this stuff?” Reed asked. “I’m flabbergasted at the depth of knowledge you acquired overnight.”

“There isn’t much to do in a hospital room, Master. I got lucky. They had Wi-Fi, so I went online for a bit and found some interesting stuff. Brian told me last night his branch of the O’Shea Family recognized the love of their life at first sight. The O’Shea’s are a small clan. One of the reasons for that is the sight.

They call it The Hammer. After laying eyes on the person who was the ‘one’, no one else would ever satisfy. Brian took one look at Bear and knew he met his match. It was a shock, he thought, given his proclivity for his own s*x, that the O’Shea Hammer would not fall on his head. But it did, yesterday in Bear’s office.

“He spent most of the night trying to determine the most ethical and moral way out of his dilemma. On one hand, he wanted to lick your boots and beg you to f**k his virgin ass, yes, it is virgin, the roommate did not do asses, thought it was too gay. On the other hand, he felt he had to run like hell because he couldn’t stand being near Bear without ever giving him the kind of service he knew he was born to provide.”

“Did he sleep at all?” Bear asked.

“He dozed on and off while I was on the net,” Jim answered.

“Brian thinks there is no moral way for him to be with you. As a man, he feels responsible for his affairs. If he lets someone else wave a wand and provide him with everything he ever dreamed without being able to meet him on at least a stable financial footing—Brian’s idea of equal ground—is his worst nightmare. I learned all this as he sobbed his heart out.”

Jim Boy finished and assumed an at rest position. Eyes down, feet spread so all of his genitals were available for his Master’s pleasure.

“Stand down, Jim. You did well,” Reed said as he pet Jim’s neck.

“Jesus, Mary and Joseph, the kid is a true submissive, the genuine article. Who tried to f**k up his head with a wagonload of guilt? He seems to cart it around as if it was a Celtic cross.”

Bear fumed.

Jim turned to Reed. “Permission to speak, Sir.”

“Answer Bear, Jim,” Reed said.

“Thank you, Master. I couldn’t really say. My best guess would be the mother. After the father died, when she was not beating the s**t out of him, sorry Sirs, she leaned on him completely, never let him be a kid. The marriage was a May-December affair. The dad had a heart attack playing with the boy in the yard. I think the mother might have struck that note in an endless symphony. A person can be indoctrinated to believe anything if it is repeated often enough. Irene leaned on her husband, and losing him was the worst thing she could imagine. Since Irene could not conceive of anything she had done to bring about her husband’s heart attack, it had to be Brian. Brian became guilty by default and spent the rest of his childhood making up for killing his father.”

Bear bellowed, “She made a six-year-old believe he killed his dad?”

“Since the Aunt, Mary, was dad’s sister, she also had to find someone to blame, and again it became Brian, because by then Irene was living in a fugue state. Irish men tend to marry late. Until they married, they lead rather colorful lives. In the old country, life centered on the local pub where they drank, brawled, and avoided the women. They usually began to think of marriage around the time their own mother began to push them to procreate, usually at around forty.

“In the case of Brian’s father, the mother was deceased and Aunt Mary lived with her brother. She was in no hurry to give up her position in her brother’s house. Perhaps if he let his sister stay, things might have taken a different turn. Irene was and is a weak woman. Mary, on the other hand, is a strong woman who feels she was wronged by Irene and even more so by the birth of her brother’s son. Once Brian entered the picture, I imagine Mary knew her brother would never leave Irene despite all of her faults.”

Jim Boy finished with, “Brian has the home front equivalent of Post-Traumatic Stress Syndrome, coupled with the deep-seated belief he does not deserve happiness because he was responsible for his father’s death. It will be difficult, if not impossible, to deprogram Brian without destroying the beautiful submissive personality living beneath all this s**t. Now, with the beating and the charges about to be brought against Zeke Robbins and the Mueller woman, he feels he brought complete disaster to your door.”

“Then it is my job to rid him of that notion as quickly as I can. I am going in that room now. I have far exceeded my store of patience,” Bear grumbled.

“Store, what store? You don’t have any patience without going out and buying it,” Reed joked.

“Shut up. Go home and spank Jim. Be useful for a change.”

“I’d really like that, Master,” Jim said, giving Reed a wink and a wiggle. Now that the serious work was finished, Jim turned into the familiar pouf who fluttered, but ran the backside of Indiscreet with an iron hand encased in a velvet glove.

“We’ll hang around until you are ready to go, Bear, if you don’t mind. The kid might feel more comfortable with Jim around,” Reed said.

“Yes, Master,” Jim answered, with a less enthusiastic wiggle.

“I’ll see to that later,” Reed stated sternly.

* * * *

Does everyone in the world want to keep us from being alone? Bear thought in exasperation as he listened to Cisco drone on.

“Come on, Cisco, put away the Dr. God persona and tell me what I need to know. Brian needs some rest and it sure doesn’t look as if he is getting any here.”

“Is this arrangement satisfactory to you, Mr. Murphy? I can vouch for Bear Drummond.” Cisco smiled wryly at Bear.

“You rat-bastard, you better vouch for me. I put my head in a noose for you when I made you head of this joint,” bellowed Bear.

“And I made you look like a genius,” the doctor answered back with a smirk.

Bear realized the by-play was to put Brian at ease. After a few minutes of listening to them insult each other, Brian let loose a small but audible laugh.

“I knew there was a human under the sheet,” Cisco shot. “Are you always so quiet, Mr. Murphy, or does this giant excuse for a St. Bernard scare you? He’s really just an oversized sappy spaniel, so not to worry.”

Brian nodded. “It’s all right, Dr. de Loria, but I’ll have to start searching for my own place tomorrow.”

“Let’s talk about it when you feel better, okay?” Bear backpedaled.

“I’m sorry to have caused you such a problem, Mr.

Drummond,” Brian said as he bowed his head.

“Brian,” Bear whispered as he bent down and kissed his forehead, “you will never be a problem or a burden to me.”

* * * *

With Bear’s determined assistance, Brian was dressed in his new straight-legged jeans with a vintage wide stripped polo, leather sneakers, and a hoodie to ward off the morning chill.

Before he had a chance to protest the cost, Bear had him out the door and down to the lobby where the Mercedes was parked in a reserved space at the front entrance.

Bear strapped him in a seat belt and gave him a quick kiss that left Brian’s head spinning. When he recovered from the delicious s****l heat it produced, Brian found himself seated in the SUV.

On his way out of Trenton proper and cruising up alongside the Delaware to Bear’s home. Bear had grabbed his hand and had not let go since they pulled out of the parking lot. Brian couldn’t bring himself to pull away, because the large hand covering his was comforting. He convinced himself that taking this small indulgence would not bend his resolve to spare Bear his troubles.

About twenty minutes later, they pulled into a long driveway lined with birch trees. At the end of the drive, Brian saw an enormous yellow Victorian house with a traditional gray wraparound porch. The trim stood out in contrast in a Hunter green. The porch overflowed with greenery. Baskets of begonias hung from the ceiling on oval-shaped nooks. Lushly padded natural wicker lounges and settees were set up in conversational groupings with sliding swings. It was an idyllic setting right out of a book depicting a summer in the country. The house sat on an incline above the lazy Delaware River, which could be seen over the two lanes of Route 29 through the trees.

The green double doors had etched glass panels, three to a section. The doors boasted twin wreaths, redolent of dried flowers and herbs. Bear parked the SUV and put his hand on Brian’s arm, and all Brian could do was stare. Prince Studly Charming lived in the castle of his dreams. He had to shake his head to bring his attention back to the reality of his real position in life. Brian sat in the passenger seat numb with grief.

It all hit him again. His obligation to his mother, his own dreams crumbling before he could reach out for a crumb from the table, job loss, pain…He tried to get out of the car, but his feet collapsed under him. He passed out.

* * * *

Bear was looking out the windshield with eager anticipation.

He wanted to see Brian in his home, surrounded by his things.

He hopped out of the car and went to the passenger side to help Brian. As he turned around the front end of the SUV, he watched as Brian fell to the pavement.

“Jesus Christ,” he shouted. He picked up Brian’s body and checked his breathing. Once satisfied that the air passages were open, he took off to the porch at a dead run. He heard Jim and Reed behind him. They had stopped at the hospital pharmacy to pick up Brian’s prescriptions. Jim took Brian from him and set him down on a long settee with Bear cradling his head.

Bear heard Jim call out to Reed to dial Harris who Cisco said was on call. He came back with Maria and a cold cloth. Reed was on the phone. Bear sat still, feeling very helpless for the first time since his karate lessons years ago. Jim knelt beside the settee and began to bathe Brian’s face. Reed shoved the phone into his hand.

“Drummond,” Bear said, not too sure who was on the other end.

“Mr. Drummond, Dr. Harris here. Put Jim on the line.” Bear silently handed the phone to Jim.

“His vitals are fine, his breathing is unobstructed,” Jim said.

He listened a few moments, and then handed the phone back to Bear.

“Mr. Drummond, I don’t feel it necessary for Brian to return. He is malnourished, weak from yesterday’s incident, and conflicted over the course events have taken. Make sure he has a light meal now and something more substantial later.”

Brian began to moan.

“That must be him waking,” Harris continued. “He is going to feel disoriented, and may experience a few more flashbacks. His mind needs time to process what he found out last night before it permits him to remember the whole. He suffered a severe mental blow as well as the physical beating. He is going to need continuing therapy in order to be able to deal with his mother.

Dr. de Loria indicated you might need a personal physician on the property. My training is finished this week. I’d like to continue to care for Brian, if you could see your way clear to hiring me.”

“You’re hired. Will he be all right?”

“Once he gets some food and rest, he should be fine. Deal with any flashbacks as you would with a nightmare. Provide comfort and let him talk if he wishes. I’ll come out tomorrow to check him again.”

“Could you come by in the evening? I think we need to talk to you about what to do about his mother’s care,” Bear answered.

“I can be there by seven, and if you need me sooner, the hospital always has my location.”

“Done,” Bear said and closed the phone.

Bear turned back to Brian and Jim. He felt very uneasy watching Jim cradle Brian’s head. He knew Jim Boy only offered him comfort at Bear’s request. Yet, the sight was more than he could stand. He felt Reed’s presence behind him. Sometimes he thought his friend could read his mind.

“Jim Boy, let’s go. Our job here is done for today.”

“Thank you for all you have done,” Bear said. He turned his attention back to the lounge and prepared to bring Brian into the house as Reed and Jim pulled away.

Brian opened his eyes and blinked. Maria had set up a chaise in his library/study off the entry. Bear set him down and propped him up with pillows until he felt Brian was comfortable.

“Baby, did you take your pills?” he asked.

“No, Sir. They make me fuzzy. Can’t be fuzzy, have to focus,” Brian replied.

“You are safe here. There is a security team on the property. You can just rest awhile and Mrs. Santore will have some soup and a sandwich for you,” Bear stated.

Maria Santore stood behind Donald, a glass of water at the ready. Behind her stood Sal and Sal, Jr.

“Brian, take these and stay on this chaise. This is Mrs. Santore, behind her are her husband Salvatore and I believe you met Sal Junior yesterday. Maria will get you anything you need.” The cub obediently palmed the pills and swallowed them with a gulp of the water.

“Thank you, Mrs. Santore. I’m sorry to make more work for you.”

Bear covered him with a light afghan and with one look, emptied the room of all but Maria.

“Maria, you call me if he wakes up. I have some phone calls to make.”

“Yes, Donald. It is not only the beating this poor baby took making him ill, he needs nourishment. His face is ashen, his ribs are sticking out, and he can barely stand. Sal, send one of the boys to the kitchen. I made cookies. Tell them to bring them, along with some cold milk and the sandwiches. Go about your business, Donald. I know what he needs.”

Bear bent down and caressed Brian’s cheek before kissing him on the forehead. He moved out of the room in silence, his eyes asking Maria to wait outside. Maria read Bear very well. She was waiting in the hall when he came out.

“We have to do everything possible to let him know he is welcome and wanted in this house, Mama Maria. He has had a very hard time.”

“Hah! You think because I am old, I do not have eyes! That poor boy needs a few years of coddling before he could possibly be healthy.”

“That is just what I intend to do, Maria. Exactly what I intend to do.”

* * * *

Brian obediently ate the sandwiches, cookies and drank the milk. After, his mind floated in half dream state lingering at the edge of awareness. Though his thoughts were cloudy, his emotions were clear. He heard the rumble of Bear’s voice, even in an attempted whisper, his great voice carried. Brian could ignore his body’s aches and pains. He centered his spirit and eased twin distractions into a familiar room in his mind. Brian was an expert at excising unwanted distraction at a thought. No one, not even Brian, realized he had fine-tuned his natural mental abilities to a near-perfect pitch.

Brian spent his life hiding his talents under the guise of nerdy glasses, pocket protectors, and clumsiness. Hiding who and what he was had become so ingrained in Brian’s psyche, he was in danger of forfeiting himself to the mask he wore. Until yesterday in Bear’s office, Brian eschewed strong emotions by mentally encasing them in ice and placing the package in a compartment in a freezer he installed in his mind.

Yesterday, when he met Donald “the Bear” Drummond, his ungovernable emotions chiseled through their ice casing and left him defenseless against Bear’s onslaught. His hard-won independence as a man able to care for himself and his own was threatened, as was his honor and pride. However, all those considerations flew into the wind with the stroke of Bear’s finger on his cheek. Today, Brian had cried, sobbing without control to Jim. For the first time since he owned the avalanche of anxiety that was Irene, he had allowed himself to feel resentment, anger, loss.

The love of a man for his life mate, the O’Shea hammer had hit his brain and heart, releasing every unexamined hurt, every careless or deliberate cruelty and more, his own resentment of his mother’s abdication of parental duty at his father’s death.

These painful truths were the core of his refusal to contemplate a life he could share, in love’s light with Bear. Brian felt ugly inside, unworthy and unwanted. He could not handle having his ass tossed out with the trash one more time.

Brian discussed the issue with Jim, rationally. However strong his attraction—all right, love—was for Donald Bear Drummond, the real world would soon intrude. It would take his lover away, leaving Brian alone, in pain, and unable to shoulder his responsibility to Irene. He could not do it. He was his father’s son.

It would not be long before Donald discovered Brian was not worth the trouble with his mother and Aunt Mary and now Ms. James and Zeke. Everyone left Brian. His dad had died and his mother didn’t think he was worth keeping herself together enough to raise her own son. Therefore, he did it himself.

There was a friend in high school, a girl. They had been friends since kindergarten. One evening, he needed to say it aloud. Admit who and what he was to someone. He called Alicia, said he wanted to talk. She met him in the park. He sat beside her, eyes cast down, and bared his soul to his best friend.

Alicia had laughed and said, “Oh, I’ve always known you were a queen, Brian. You’ve been a great friend, even if you are perverted. It’s been fun. Now I know for sure, I’ll be sent straight to hell if I continue to hang out. So don’t call or anything, or I’ll have to tell the pastor, and he’ll out you to everyone.”

Brian sat, tears rolling down his cheeks. He did not even look up to watch her walk away. In college, he had thought Alan was his friend. He knew they did not love one another, but Brian believed they had a solid friendship. That was until the day before Alan left to go home. They were at the club and Alan had used his body for a heavy workout. He waited for Alan to come and perform the usual aftercare. He waited quite a while. He heard Alan’s voice in a whisper to Buzz, the club owner.

Alan said, “You might want to steer him to one of the old guys. I see the way they eye him up. You’ll get a large fee for setting up a contract, and you could give me a cut for training him so well.”

He didn’t stick around for Buzz’s answer. Brian got up, took care of himself the best he could, and left the club. Since Alan had to leave in the morning, all he had to do was stay the night on the beach. It was cold and he hurt like hell. Never would he let Alan know he cried all night alone. In the end, Brian found himself kicked to the curb like an unwanted cur again. During the cold night, he swore to himself it would never happen again.

He kept his word.

The next morning, he went to Buzz and dictated his terms.

Buzz assured him he didn’t deal in enforced contracts, but Brian asked Buzz to put his terms in writing. He told him that should any customer attempt to breach his rules, Brian would walk. Buzz knew Brian was a potential goldmine as a sub for hire. Therefore, Buzz had the contract drawn up for a term of three years with Brian determining his schedule to be compatible with his classes.

Buzz also reserved the right to lend Brian to other clubs, a clause to which Brian acquiesced, as long as the letter and spirit of the original contract with Buzz was preserved. That was how Brian became the “Ice Man of the Shore.”

He fought through the fog. Brian could handle severe physical pain, almost to the point of self-destruction. He didn’t seek it as would a true pain slut, but if it came his way, he squared his shoulders and bore it until it passed. It always passed. If it didn’t, his body would pass on, and it wouldn’t matter. To Brian, the emotional battery assailing him rendered him helpless…from his mother, to his aunt, and his economic situation. These were bad enough, but finding Bear amidst the turmoil was more than Brian could handle, because he couldn’t run away. He knew Bear Drummond would own his heart for the rest of his life and that scared the s**t out of him. His responsibilities prevented him from running as fast and as far from Bear Drummond as he could. He knew from now on, there would be no life without Bear. Bear would shatter his heart and leave him an empty husk.

Despite the risk, Brian already knew that if he gave Bear free rein, he would regret it. He would end up in the trash can again.

In his drugged state, that thought woke Brian’s flight response, and he tried to move his body off the chaise. He managed to swing one leg to the ground before the full effect of the Percocet that Cisco prescribed took effect. He passed out completely into a heavily drugged sleep.

Sometime later, he felt someone staring at him. Brian kept his eyes shut. He was uncomfortable and more to the point, anxious.

There was a conversation headed his way, a conversation he didn’t want to have. It was bound to make him more nervous than he was already. When he was nervous, he babbled. The duality of his desires still tormented him. On one hand, he wanted Bear to care for him, maybe eventually to love him the way he loved Bear, which didn’t happen to idiots who babbled or to men who could not take care of their own. He wanted to reach for the ring, but he was afraid. He thought of Jim’s parting in his ear this morning, “Whatever you do, don’t lie to him.”

Jesus, Mary and Joseph, Brian thought. I can’t play possum. It would be perpetuating a lie. By my own action, I would tell Bear I was sleeping when I wasn’t. Brian opened his eyes. Babbling or not, he would not lie to Bear.

He heard the slight hesitation of the slide, followed by heavy steps. He tried to sit up in the chaise and found he ached all over.

It had been a long time since he had taken such a beating. He gritted his teeth and swung his other leg to the floor, suppressing a grunt or two.

He looked up to find Bear standing over him, face and eyes radiating fury. Puzzled by the fury in Bear’s face and in more pain than he would like, Brian’s first response was a rather curt, “What the heck did I do to make you so angry, Mr. Drummond?”

“It’s Sir to you until we get a few things straight. As to what you did, I put you on this chaise to wait for me, am I correct?”

“Yes, Sir,” Brian answered as the light dawned in his fuzzy head. He shot his eyes down to the floor and did not look up as Sir continued.

“I gave you your medication and told you to stay put, and to call Maria if necessary.”

“Yes, Sir.”

“Didn’t I tell you not to leave the chaise until given permission?”

Why then, did you choose to get up?” Bear looked over Brian’s face. The boy looked indecisive. He was going to run if Bear did not take immediate possession.

Brian panicked. He was drugged. He rarely drank and never took drugs of any kind. They made him babble and he was unable to guard his tongue. He decided to go on the offense to protect his vulnerability.

“Mr. Drummond, I want to thank you for letting me stay here tonight, but tomorrow, I need to look for a place to live.”

The prod made Bear growl. “What, another flophouse in Clinton? I pay pretty well. Why were you living in what looked like a crack house in the worst section of Trenton?” Bear sounded accusatory. Brian bristled.

“I’m not irresponsible, Mr. Drummond, and you pay more than a living wage. I’m just paying off some medical bills of Mom’s and paying Aunt Mary for taking care of her, so things are a bit tight.”

Yeah, the kid was defensive, and for no good reason. From what Donald had seen, things were not just tight, they were strangling the life out of the boy. The boy was holding it together when others would have given up, chucked Mom over to Social Services, and gone on with their life. He knew he needed to tread lightly here, but he was determined this was the best course of action.

“Brian, one of the reasons I was getting an assistant was I wanted to spend less time in the office, and hand more of the day-to-day stuff over to my senior management. Since you don’t have a lease to worry about and don’t own property, it would further my goals to have you at the house twenty-four-seven. You don’t have to make your mind up right away, but since you need a place to stay, you could try it. Of course, I would compensate you for giving up your free time, and assign you the use of a company car. However, I have to be honest here, boy. If you accept, I would have to know your whereabouts at all times. I am an arrogant and demanding son of a b***h and I’m not going to change any time soon.”

“Would I be able to go to see my mother on Sunday afternoons, Sir?” Brian asked in a tentative voice.

“Just what is the situation with your mother, kid? Tell me straight. I can’t abide doublespeak.”

“She has a bad heart. Not bad enough to put her on a transplant list, but she is not able to work, clean, cook, or care for herself. She can’t do stairs and pretty much, needs someone to check on her, help her to dress, and give her the meds.”

“You found someone to care for her?” Donald asked.

“Yes and no. I have been paying my Aunt Mary for her care, but Mom is not happy and Mary doesn’t treat her right. I want to get Mom into an assisted living facility. There she would have people to care for her and socialization, but also a measure of privacy.”

“What’s stopping you?” Donald asked.

“I need to, uh…we had some financial reverses and I had to pay her bills before someplace decent would accept her.”

“Look, Brian, we need to talk,” Bear announced. “I’ll take you up to your room, where you’ll be more comfortable.”

Bear lifted Brian off the chaise with a gentle touch that belied his strength. He carried him up the stairs.

“I can walk, Mr. Drummond, but I’d really appreciate a newspaper, so I can begin to look for a place to live tomorrow,” Brian murmured.

“I’d rather carry you, boy. As far as a new place is concerned, cool your jets. I said we were going to talk.”

“Yes, Sir,” Brian responded almost on autopilot.