Chapter 3 As the sun travels across the room, Justin tries to rouse himself. He knows he has to get up eventually. It just hurts too much, any which way he turns. It hurts to lay too long on his back where Robert had kicked him the night before, and it hurts to lay too long on his right side where Robert's hand had held him as he rode him the night before. He could even feel a few small abrations across his face where he had covered his mouth to keep him from yelling out too loudly when he had taken him so roughly and forcefully. Get up, Justin, he keeps telling himself. If you would only get up and get in the shower, things will begin to feel a little better. Slowly he rolls over and throws his legs over the edge of the bed, stretching his back out. He walks into the bathroom to see if he can survey the damage any better. By the feeling he has on his face, he thought it would be worse, but he can barely see any bruising there at all. Robert doesn't like to bruise Justin's face, too many questions by people who might see him out on the streets. His back and shoulder were another matter. Two very large bruises had started to form; one on his mid back and the other in the lower back. He had a clear impression of a hand on his right shoulder over his clavicle. The one on his left ribcage was still there, but was no longer painful. That one had been courtesy of a town coucilman. The steam of the shower felt wonderful. Every muscle starts to loosen up, and Justin starts to feel at least somewhat better. Leaving the bathroom he heads to the kitchen, and sees the machine still blinking with the message from the day before. Yes, how can I forget. Robert has something for me to do at 8:00 tonight, and don't be late. Robert hates lateness, in all things. Justin figures he might as well get his day started and at least do something before he has to go do whatever this mysterious assignment is. He's never had Justin fuck someone outside of the loft, so he really doesn't think it has anything to do with that. He heads over to the stereo, puts on some Moby and cranks it up, hoping to get himself motivated. --------------------------------------------------------------------------- Brian steps out of the loft, cup of coffee in hand and a toasted bagel. I know I should swing by the diner and see Deb, he thinks, but I just don't have time this morning. This will be his first full day in his new job, his new place, and hopefully his new life. He had been screwed in his old job, and not in a positive, life-affirming way, either. One of the partners had decided to take his ideas and run with them, claiming them as his own. He didn't need that shit, and he could do so much better for himself in a new city. Well, not actually new since he was originally from Pittsburgh. New York had been fun and exciting, but oh so tedious; and well, hell, face it, he was lonely there. His extended, adoptive family lived in Pittsburgh. He knew one of the partners of this new firm, and this partner knew his worth and snatched him up when Brian approached him about this opportunity. Ryder was a new start, and he planned to make the most of it. As he turns to lock his door, he hears the music come from upstairs. Jesus H. Christ, kid. It's 7:30 in the fucking morning. Let people sleep before you decide to wake the dead. Kids these days; no respect for anything or anybody. My, God, did I just think that? When did I start to sound so old? I definitely need to get out tonight and see how the other half lives on Liberty Avenue before I start turning into a pumpkin at midnight, thought Brian. I'll give Mikey a call, see if he wants to meet up somewhere. --------------------------------------------------------------------------- The day was as beautiful as the day before, so it found Justin once again sitting in the bleachers in the park watching the kids. Geez, he hoped nobody thought he was a pedophile, with all of the time he always spent there sitting and sketching and just sometimes staring off into space. So far, thankfully, nobody had ever called the cops on him. He was having another one of his waking dreams, he likes to call them; thinking back to his family on the farm. Not a big farm, mind you, but enough to keep the family comfortable. This time they were having a picnic, and the dandelion fuzz was so thick in the air it looked like snow falling from the sky. He can remember sneezing so much he thought his lungs were going to explode. But that hadn't stopped him from wanting to be there. He loved his family, and this was such a wonderful time. Again, that nagging doubt creeps into Justin's head. Is this a true memory, or something idealized? Next he flashes to two young faces standing looking out the window as the police lead his mother away in handcuffs, and the paramedics take the body bag away in the ambulance. His sister has her arm around him, telling him everything will be all right as the social worker takes them both away. Justin never sees his sister again, nor his mother. He definitely never sees his father because he was buried three days later. Someone walks up to him and asks him the time, and he's startled into realization. "Shit," he mutters. "It's 5:30, ma'am." Damn, damn, damn, not again. I've got to stop doing this, losing time. I've got to get back and be there for 8:00 or my ass is grass, and you know who will be the lawn mower. ------------------------------------------------------------------------- It's 6 o'clock and Brian sits at the bar at Woody's waiting for Mikey to show up. Lo and behold, who walks in but the kid. What the fuck is he doing in here? How the hell can he get in? Jesus, he only looks like he's 12, for God's sake. I've got to stop calling him kid, he thinks. What was his name again? Yeah, I remember the lips and the ass, but what did he say his name was? Shit, Kinney, don't have a senior moment at 30. Justin walks up to the bartender to ask for a pack of cigarettes. He sees Brian and gives him a smile. Damn, thinks Brian, look at that smile. All right, I really need to slap myself here. When did I become such a lesbian? "Hey, kid -- Justin, is it?" "Yeah, that's right. Brian, right?" "Your memory is intact, kid. I'm waiting for someone, but come and have a drink with me." "I can't. I have to be somewhere." "Oh, come on, kid. One drink won't kill you." If only he knew, thought Justin. Yes, one drink just might kill him. One drink might kill Brian if the wrong person saw him having it with Justin. "Well, just hang and have a drink until my friend gets here. It's pathetic sitting at this bar alone. No upstanding fag would be caught in this position." Justin softly chuckles, thinking that he's really starting to like this guy. Maybe he was wrong about him at first, thinking he was just a queen and a rich prick. "What will you have," the bartender asks. Justin points to a bottle of Becks and says, "I'll have one of those." "Make that two," Brian pipes in. Brian sits there and eyes Justin out of the corner of his eye. "What?", Justin finally says. "Spill it, Kinney." "Just wondering how you, looking all of 12-years-old, can live in a loft as expensive as the ones we live in are, and then you can saunter into this bar and get a pack of smokes, order a beer, and nobody thinks anything of it." Justin's mind starts to work in overdrive. Got to think of a good lie for this one. Of course, the bartender would never let it slip who he really was. He would always play along if he overheard anything. "Well, if you must know, Mr. Kinney, I happen to be a model. A very successful one, I might add. As far as being allowed into the bar, I've been coming down here since I was 16." Now, that wasn't a lie. "They've known me for a long time. Nobody bothers me about ID or any of that shit." Brian ponders this before asking, "Really? I'm in advertising. I don't recall seeing your pretty face anywhere before." Shit, shit, shit. What now, Justin? "Well, you've heard of body models, right? I've had my eyes in pics, my hands, hell even my feet; not to mention just my hair in some shampoo ads. If you would take those ads and put all of those parts together, you'd end up with me." Brian thought about this. That was perfectly plausible. He had used specific body part models himself in certain ads. And not being in Pittsburgh for the last five years, this kid certainly could have been around this area and he would have no knowledge of him. Soon the talk turns to other more mundane things: Politics, religion, sports -- there wasn't much talk there -- cars. Before Brian knew it, almost an hour and a half had flown by. What's wrong with you Kinney? You're sitting here with a gorgeous kid with an ass that won't quit, and you're talking? Man, you are losing it. But it was such a pleasurable experience. He really liked this kid. He found Justin to be smart and intelligent, and always had a come-back for some snarky comment that Brian would make. He toyed with the idea of asking Justin about the noises the night before, but then decided against it. Just then Brian spotted Mikey finally walking into the bar. "For Christ's sake, Mikey, where the fuck have you been?" "Sorry, Brian. I had some stock come into the store that I had to take care of. If I had your new cell phone number I could have called you, but, no, Mr. Secretive won't give that out." Michael sits down next to Brian on the other side and looks across at Justin. What the hell kind of twink has Brian picked up now, he thinks. Jesus Christ, Brian, keep it in your pants for one night, would you? "Michael Novotny, I would like you to meet one of my neighbors, Justin . . ." "Taylor," Justin finishes for Brian. "Nice to meet you Michael. What kind of shop do you have?" "I own a comic book store." Whenever Michael said that, he always expected the usual smart-ass remark from somone. Didnt' people realize that comic books were actually an artistic form of expression? "Wow, that's great," the kids says. "Some of the world's most innovative art has come from comic books." Michael's mouth is hanging open. Did this kid just say what I think he said? Does he actually get it? No smart-ass remark coming out of that mouth? "Hey, Mikey, shut your mouth. Flies are beginning to congregate." Just then Justin gets a glance at the bar's clock. Shit, where did the time go? He was going to be late getting back to the loft, and Charlie was going to be there at 8:00 to pick him up. Fuck, fuck, fuck. "Hey, look, guys, I really have get out of here. I have an appointment I have to make." Brian looks at his watch. What model has an appointment at this time of night? "Hey, kid, listen, I'm having a housewarming party tomorrow night. Nothing big, just a few close friends over. Why don't you stop by around 7:00 or so?" "I'll see what I can do," Justin replies. Frankly, he doesn't want to commit to anything right now. He doesn't know how his body will be feeling tomorrow after whatever Robert has planned for him tonight. "Well, if you can make it, I'll see you then." At that, Justin gets off the barstool and waves bye to both of the men, making his way to the door and running out onto the sidewalk. "Brian, I smell trouble with that kid. How can someone that young afford a loft in your building?" "He's a model, Mikey." Although Brian was starting to have his doubts about that. "So how about you and me and the Professor having some fun tonight?" "Sure," Michael says. "Let me make a call and we'll meet up at Babylon." -------------------------------------------------------------------------- Justin stops in front of the Mercedes trying to catch his breath. Charlie stands there, leaning against the car, with his arms folded across his chest. "Not a good start to the evening, Justin. You're late. You know how Robert hates to be kept waiting. Just get in the God damn car." Justin climbs in the back seat, trying to look at anything but the reflection of Charlie looking at him in the rearview mirror. Charlie has always given him the creeps, but now that he was alone with him in the car, it is especially unnerving. "So, Justin, taken it up the ass today yet?" Justin just turns his head and looks out the window. I will just ignore this, he keeps thinking. Don't spar with this asshole. "You know, I've often wondered what it must be like, having it up the ass. I mean, I know when I've had a touch of the roids and had to put some cream up there, it hurt like shit. That's why you do it, isn't it, for the pain. Just like cats. So how much would you charge me then, if I gave you one up the old dirt box?" All right. Now I'll take the bait Justin told himself. "Oh, you'd get staff rates. Or free if it was your first time. But it wouldn't be, would it, your first time?" Charlie looks in the rearview mirror and sees Justin smirking at him. He wants to reach behind him and wipe that smirk off of his face, preferably with his fist. Robert would not look too kindly on him for that. And the thought dawned on him that maybe that's what Justin was trying to get him to do, get in hot water with Robert. "Nice try, kid." ------------------------------------------------------------------------- Charlie pulls up in front of the Golden Eye bar. Geez, Justin thought, I thought they had closed this place up years ago. Robert steps out of the shadows and approaches the car, looking at his watch. Charlie should have been here 15 minutes ago. "Traffic?" he asks. "Got a late start," Charlie says, and gestures with his head to the back seat. At that, Robert opens the back door and grabs Justin with a vise grip on his upper arm and yanks him out of the car. "I want you to go in the bar and talk to the bartender," Robert explains to Justin. "He's the guy in the striped shirt. Just talk him up a bit." "Talk to him?" "Yes. Am I speaking fucking English?" "What do you want me to talk about?" "What the fuck do I care? Talk about nuclear physics." With that he puts his hand on the back of Justin's neck and holds him in a hard grip. "Don't fuck this up." And shoves him in the direction of the bar. ------------------------------------------------------------------------- Justin is standing at the bar as instructed. He gets the attention of the bartender that was described to him. They exchange names. Jeffrey Lambert, he tells Justin, is his name, and he's the owner of this fine establishment. Well, to that Justin has to scoff just a bit. The place has definitely seen better times, but there is still good patronage there. As they are talking, Sam walks up. Justin sees him out of the corner of his eye. It's one of Robert's enforcers. This is not good. There is definitely going to be trouble here tonight. "Are you talking to my boyfriend?" Sam asks Jeff. "No, just having a bit of conversation. I'm the bartender. It's my job." "I think you're trying to pick up my boyfriend." With that, Sam reaches a beefy arm over the bar and hauls Jeff's body all the way down the bar, breaking every glass and bottle that sits on it as he slides down the bar. A hand comes up behind Justin and steers him back to the door that leads out of the bar. It's Charlie, and he's been instructed to get Justin the hell out of there once the trouble starts and the crowd starts to panic and exit the bar in droves. He was told to have him wait in the car for Robert. Sam and Andy have hauled Jeff into the storage room of the bar. There he is laid face down on the prep table. As Robert walks in he's handed a broom handle that has been shaped into a dull point at one end. He walks to the side of the table where Jeff's head is and squats down. "Tsk, tsk, tsk, tsk, tsk. What are we going to do with you?" He asks Jeff. "What's this, our fifth, sixth visit?" Sam nods his head in agreement. Robert fondles the pointy end of the broom handle so Jeff can see it. "What do I have to do to get through to you, hmm? We provide a service that has to be paid for. Do you know what it means if I have to pay a visit? It means that I have got a severe ass ache. Tell me I won't have to come here again." "Never, I promise. Never," Jeff grunts. Sam and Andy slide Jeff down to the end of the table until Jeff's feet hit the floor. His pants are taken down. Robert walks behind Jeff carrying the stick. "I can't take the credit for this one," Robert says. "This one is Sam's idea. He thought there would be a vague chance you'd enjoy it." With that Robert puts the pointy end of the broom handle in his mouth to lubricate it. He wasn't a total animal, he thought to himself, and proceeds to rape Jeff with it. The screams could be heard outside. Justin could hear them in the car. ------------------------------------------------------------------------- Robert sits next to Justin in the back seat of the car. He gazes out the window thinking not an altogether bad evening. He got his point across -- no pun intended -- and word would get around not to fuck with him. Charlie once again is staring intently at Justin in the rearview mirror. Justin is trying to look anywhere else but up front; definitely not trying to look at the floorboard where the discarded broom handle sits. Justin could make out the blood soaking into the wood. Did Robert have plans to use this on him, too? Finally Justin has had enough and tells Charlie, "Just fuck off." Robert's head snaps back to the front and he glares at Charlie. Charlie knows when to retreat to a better time. Robert wraps his left arm around Justin's shoulder and puts his right hand under Justin's shirt, rubbing his chest and his nipples, nuzzling him on his neck just below his ear. Robert can feel Justin stiffen at his touch. He looks up into Justin's eyes and follows his gaze to the floorboard and the broom handle. "No, no, my love. It's all right. I forgive you for being late this time. Nothing is going to happen tonight. I've got business matters on my mind."