Chapter 6 Justin doesn't remember how he ended up in the chair in the living room. He doesn't remember putting a shirt on. He doesn't remember smoking the first cigarette, much less the second, which after it burned him woke him up out of his stupor. He glances into the bedroom to make sure it hadn't been a dream. No, there was Robert's body with the pool of blood still around it. What do I do? The only thought that kept coming to his mind was Brian. Hell, Brian is the only person he knows who isn't associated with Robert's 'business.' Justin slowly gets up and starts to go downstairs. He feels like he's in a waking dream; like nothing can be real at this point. After pounding on Brian's door numerous times, Brian finally opens his door with a very surprised look on his face. "What the fuck do you want, Justin? Do you realize what time it is? For God's sake, it's 2:00 in the morning." Brian stares at Justin, seeing no comprehension in his eyes. It's like the kid is sleep walking. Hell, maybe he is. Brian waves his hand in front of Justin's eyes to see if he can get a response. Justin just stares straight ahead with that 100-mile stare that some guys get who have been in combat; but he does take Brian's hand to stop him. "Come upstairs, please, Brian. I need some help," Justin says in an almost monotone voice. "What's up?" But Brian doesn't get a response as he sees one lone tear run down Justin's face. Then he notices something on Justin's face and reaches out to touch it. In his just-awakened state he's not quite sure what it is, but, damn, that looks an awful lot like blood. Justin just turns and slowly walks back up the stairs, hoping that Brian is following him. Now Brian is starting to get worried. What the hell has the kid gotten himself into? Brian follows Justin into the loft and sees that he's headed straight back to the bedroom. Justin just continues to walk, stopping and resting his back against the far wall. Brian just watches him, and then looks across the room. He sees the blood first, and then the body. "Jesus H. Christ. Who is he? Justin? Who is he, Justin?" At this question, Justin can feel himself start to slide down the wall as the tears start to flow and his body starts to shake. He looks at Brian with glassy eyes and doesn't quite know what to say. "He's my trick," he finally gets out. "Or would call him my pimp? Or maybe my owner would be a better word." Brian can only stand there speechless. "That's got you speechless, doesn't it? I'm a whore, I'm trash." "What?" "I'm not a model." Brian can only stand there and try to take this all in. Should I pinch myself? Am I having some sort of perverse nightmare? "It was an accident," Justin manages to choke out between sobs. Justin pauses and then actually looks Brian in the eye to see what his reaction will be. All Brian can do at this point is look down at the body and wonder how all of this blood can come from an accident. "Call the police," Brian says affirmatively. At this comment Justin covers his mouth and starts to laugh hysterically. "What's so fucking funny, Justin? It's a dead body for fuck's sake." Justin covers his face with his hands and tries to compose himself. How can he make Brian understand that he can't call the police? He'll have to tell him everything. "Please, just help me get away," Justin whispers. "Justin, am I not speaking fucking English here? It's a dead body. We have to call the police and work all of this out." "Brian, I can't call the police." "Why the hell not? Explain this to me," Brian says, walking over to Justin and kneeling down in front of him, grabbing his hands in his. "Because some of the police force is on his payroll," Justin explains, pointing to Robert's body. "Don't you see, Brian, if you call the police, I'll be dead. Then there's Charlie sitting downstairs in the Mercedes. Did you notice him when we came in earlier? He's Robert's driver. He'll take great pleasure in killing me, but first he will have some fun." At that last statement, Brian actually cringes. He can only imagine what kind of fun men have been having with this kid. An idea was starting to form in Brian's mind where he could take Justin to be safe until things could be straightened out. He definitely needs to talk to Carl, but tonight was definitely not the night for that. First he needed to get Justin the hell out of here and away from whoever was downstairs. "All right, Justin, I've got an idea. Are you listening to me? I'm going to go downstairs and pack a few things. You do the same up here. I want you to get yourself cleaned up. You've got some blood on your face. Come down when you're done. Don't bring much, but make sure it's cold-weather gear." Brian takes Justin by the shoulders and shakes him a bit to make sure he's comprehending all that he is saying to him. At this point he's not quite sure because he thinks the kid has gone into shock. Slowly Justin makes eye contact with Brian and nods his head. "Meet me downstairs in about 10 minutes at the latest. We'll be ready to move then." Again, Justin just nods his head. As Brian stands up and heads out of the loft, Justin also rises and grabs a small duffle bag and his backpack, packing the items that Brian has suggested. Justin opens the cupboard that contains all of his videos and selects only three. These should be the most important in this situation, he thinks to himself. ------------------------------------------------------------------------- As Brian walks into his loft the only thought that keeps going through his still sleep-muddled mind is what the hell do you think you're doing? Why are you getting involved in all of this shit? You are so fucked right now, Brian Kinney. I've got to call someone and let them know a little of what's going on. Who do I call? "Hey, Mikey. Rise and shine, morning glory." "Brian, do you realize it's after 2:00 in the morning? Are you high on something? "No, Mikey, I'm all right. Something has gone down with Justin, and I'm going to be out of town for a few days." "I knew it. I knew that twink was trouble. I tried to like him, Brian; I did. What the hell is happening?" "Mikey, it's best if you don't know right now, that way you have nothing to tell." "Can you tell me where you're going?" "No, I can't, Michael. It's better if you don't know. Like I said, you can't tell the police what you don't know." "The police? Are you shitting me? Ben and I are coming over right now." No, Mikey, you and Ben stay put. Plus I won't be here when you get here. You can do one thing for me, though. In about 30 minutes call the police to come to my building, Justin's loft. It's the one on the top floor. Try to make it an anonymous call, Mikey, so they don't start questioning you. Please just trust me on this and do it. I'll contact you in a few days and fill you in on what's going on, I promise. Now please don't worry, I'll be fine. I've been taking care of myself for a long time." Before Michael can respond, Brian has hung up and phone. He hears a knock on the door and knows that Justin must be ready. Brian opens and door and sees Justin standing there, tears still coming down his face. Ah, shit, kid. Brian can't seem to resist him, and pulls Justin into a strong hug. It starts to worry Brian when Justin doesn't respond and just stands there with a totally bland affect. "Okay, Justin, let's get out of here before some cops show up." "I think Charlie is still sitting downstairs in the car." "Shit, I forgot about him. Here, take my bag with your stuff and wait in the alley. I'll get the Jeep and drive around and pick you up." ------------------------------------------------------------------------- Brian quietly opens the front door of the building, not letting it slam closed. As he slowly walks down the steps, he glances into the Mercedes, seeing that the driver has fallen asleep. Brian gets into the Jeep, not closing the door all the way so it doesn't make any noise, and drives it around through the alley, picking Justin up. "Brian, I'm sorry to get you involved in all of this. I didn't know who else to go to." "Just shut up for now, Justin. I've been fucked before, but never like this. I need to think and not talk to you right now." As his words are spoken, Brian can see Justin sink more into the door of the Jeep. God, the kid looks like a beat puppy right now. What the hell has been done to him? Hell, has it been years? You and me, kid, need to have a talk when we get to where we're going. ------------------------------------------------------------------------- Charlie wakes up with a start, looking at his watch. Jesus, it's 3:00 in the morning. Robert has never stayed overnight with the kid. I wonder if he's beaten the shit out of him. Charlie tries the loft phone and there is no answer. He then tries Robert's private line, and still no answer. Now he's starting to get worried and decides to head into the building. After reaching the top floor, Charlie can see the loft door has been left open. Not a good sign, Charlie, old boy. He slowly walks in and calls Robert's name. As he heads to the bedroom, he can see a shape on the floor. Oh, Jesus, if he beat the kid to death, he's going to have to do the clean-up and get rid of the body. As Charlie walks closer, he can see that it's not Justin lying there, but Robert. "Holy shit, Robert. It looks like the kid finally got one in on you, you sick mother fucker." Charlie opens his cell phone and dials a number. "Hey, Stockwell, we've got a problem."