Chapter 3 It was too early for hookers.  Even johns didn’t come out at 7AM.  Lance was there though, hoping that Justin might be returning from somewhere.  The bile rose in his throat as he envisioned that gorgeous boy being used by a steady stream of men, intent on touching him. It was cold and Lance pulled his jacket tighter, as much to keep out the chill that surrounded his heart as the cold that blew through the square.  He glanced around at the empty street, wondering where they went. Rooms, shelters, where? There was a coffee shop that looked like it was a warm place to hang out and he headed over to it.  Rubbing his hands to thaw them, he ordered coffee and then took a chance that the bored older waitress might want to talk at this ungodly hour. “I’m looking for someone,” Lance began. The curly blonde tilted her head, “A little early, isn’t it?  Most of them are asleep now.” “A specific someone— Justin.” She looked so sad suddenly and said softly, “He doesn’t belong here.  Sometimes I look at him and wish he had a fairy godmother.  He isn’t a whore.” “But....” Lance started but stopped when she held up her hand. “Don’t get me wrong.  He sells himself.  But only when he’s desperate and he always ends up hurt, like they know to pick him when they need to act out their sick shit.” Tears glistened as she spoke and Lance’s stomach was roiling, sick at the thought of Justin’s pain. “Stay.  If he was out last night, he’ll be here.  I fix his cuts and kiss his bruises and make like the mom that he doesn’t have.  And if you’re here to hurt him, I’ll slit your fucking throat.” Lance nodded, intimidated by this woman, praying that Justin had been out and praying that he hadn’t.  He drank too much coffee and by 8AM he was wired on caffeine. Justin got on the El and closed his eyes and pretended that Lance was here again, only this time he wouldn’t say Justin was filthy.  He had so many places that hurt, he just wanted to cry.  He hoped he could get to the coffee shop, to Lynn, who would make him feel better.  The tears dripped down and he opened his eyes and looked around furtively, hoping there was no one to see him.  When he wiped his eyes with his sleeve, the salt stung the deep red welts on his wrist.  He ran his finger lightly over them, wishing his life was different. Going down the stairs was harder than going up and he limped painfully from step to step.  The wind whipped through the thin cotton shirt and he swore he would starve before going without a jacket any longer. By the time he arrived at the coffee shop, he felt sick and each step was an effort.  He pushed the door open, focused on making it to a booth where Lynn would take care of him.  He slid in and sat shivering uncontrollably. Lynn had seen him as he came down the block and had glanced at the young man waiting for him. He was nervous, his caffeine jag at full tilt, tapping his fingers on the table and darting looks everywhere at once, as if he could miss Justin if he came. So when Justin pushed the door open and staggered in, he started to leap to his feet.  Lynn was right there, her hand on his shoulder, pushing him back into the seat.  She shook her head, daring him to disobey her. “Wait and sit still,”  she hissed before moving toward Justin, a cup of hot chocolate in her hand.  Lance couldn’t see his expression, but he heard the high, sweet voice thank her, his tears obvious. “Bad?” she asked gently. He nodded, sobs shaking his shoulders.  She stooped down and stroked his face, hushing him like a child. “Sssh, baby.” “Why, Lynn?  Why me?” Tears were streaming down her face and she whispered, “I don’t know, baby, I don’t know.  Let me get the first aid kit.”  As she passed Lance’s table, she shook her head again and mouthed not yet.  Lance was a bundle of nerves, on edge now that Justin was here, anxious in case he slipped away again. Justin wasn’t going anywhere.  He only managed small sips of the hot drink before his head dropped onto the table, exhaustion taking over.  As Lynn hurried back, Lance jumped up and this time she didn’t stop him. Lance looked down at this beautiful boy and the tears started as he took in the cuts and bruises on the perfect face, wanting to be involved in some way. “Can I help?” he whispered.  “Get me some warm water and there are clean towels in a pile under the counter.  Bring me a couple.” She had rolled up Justin’s sleeves by the time Lance returned, exposing the welts and the slices on both arms.  Lance bit his lip, wondering what kind of a sicko Justin had been with last night. Lynn washed as gently as possible, but even so, Justin whimpered in pain, only partially conscious. His position made it impossible to do an adequate job and she debated rousing him to finish, but looking at his drawn face, she realized he needed the rest. Unfortunately, it was getting late and they would need the table soon. “Can you help him into the back?  There’s some blankets I keep there for him.” Lance nodded dumbly, agreeing before he thought about how to achieve the maneuver. Lynn solved the problem by shaking Justin and telling him softly to slide out and he did, his eyes still closed.  Lance reached around and held his waist and if Justin thought the arm felt stronger than Lynn’s, he didn’t bother trying to say anything. Lance half carried him to the back and lowered him to the blankets as gently as he could, pulling the top one out and covering Justin with it.  When his hand brushed over the tight curls, Justin moaned, “No, please, no more.” Lance was horrified.  He left Justin and went back out front, sitting at the end of the counter.  While Lynn waited for her orders, Lance asked if she knew what had happened last night.  She bit her lip, “Specifically, no.  But he comes back like that a lot. I don’t know if it’s the same guy.  Why are *you* here?” Suspicion rang in the words. “I work for an ad agency.  I think I may have a job for him— modeling.” The look of disbelief was evident. “You think he hasn’t heard that line?” she sneered. “I’m serious,” Lance replied, “a real modeling job.” “Did you hear me before?” she asked, an angry set to her mouth. “What?” “That I’ll slit your....” “I heard.  I’m not here to hurt him.  I met him on the el yesterday morning but I didn’t get his number.” She snorted, “His number?  You mean of his nonexistent cell phone, the one he keeps in his nonexistent jacket?” Lance was embarrassed by her scorn.  It *was* hard for him to imagine how Justin lived.  He hoped the boy would give him a chance to find out the details.  He realized though that he would have to approach Justin carefully, not assuming anything. The door flew open and a thin brunette flew in the door.  “Hey, Lynn,” he said breathlessly, “have you seen Justin?  I’m getting....” He trailed off as he saw her jerk her thumb toward the back and brushed past them, disappearing through the door. Lance looked quizzically at Lynn.  She shrugged, “That’s JC, Justin’s best friend.  They try to watch out for each other.  You need that on the street.” She hurried off then to take another order and Lance wondered again what he had let himself in for. He was still wondering when JC appeared again, unshed tears obvious.  He waited, ignoring Lance until Lynn stopped again.  “Jesus, Lynn, how long has he been here?” “Not long.” “It’s bad this time.” “No worse than others.  Stop being so dramatic.  He’ll be okay, honey.  Just give him a chance to rest. Maybe I can get him to stay in my apartment for a few days.” JC had blushed at the “dramatic” comment and Lance sat stunned.  Shit, this one was beautiful, too.  More delicate and feminine, but shit, gorgeous.  “Maybe. We need to keep him out of sight.  That bitch Morgan sent that creepy john after him yesterday.  Told him where Justin had gone.  He’d do it again in a sec for the $50 the guy threw him.” JC finally realized that they had company and turned an evil glare on Lance, “Who are you?” “Lance.  Lance Bass,” he replied, holding out his hand. “Cop?  No, not a cop.  Looking for us?” he said, slipping into the seductive voice and pose that brought in the money. “No, I’m looking for Justin,” he said.  JC’s eyes narrowed and Lance flinched.  Lynn stepped in and whispered, “He wants Justin to model.” JC had the same reaction as Lynn, scorn written clearly. “Really.  I met him on the el yesterday,” Lance said, hoping that the idea wasn’t going to die right here. JC’s face relaxed, “Yeah, he told me.  Said you were nice to him.  Did you tell him about this?” “No,” Lance said, embarrassed to say that he had been disgusted by Justin’s proposition and had stormed out. “I actually came here yesterday but everyone said he was gone.” “Too bad you missed him.  You might have saved him a lot of pain.” Now that he was calmer, JC said it as if it were an everyday thing, being punished like that. Lance winced and was more determined than ever to make this happen. JC sat down next to Lance, prepared to negotiate for Justin.  “Have you seen him this morning?” Lance nodded.  “All of him?” Lance frowned and shook his head.  “How long before he has to meet your people?” Lance nearly laughed out loud at the Hollywood-ism but the thought that Justin was in too bad shape to see Jenna, made the laugh die. “Today, tomorrow morning at the latest,” he said and his heart sank when JC shook his head.  “We can put makeup on the cuts and bruises.....” “Does he have to undress at all?” “Well, like a bathing suit, you know, so the client can get the idea.  It’s a modeling thing,” he hurried to explain as he saw the frown on JC’s face. “Come here,” JC said, sliding off the stool and heading to the rear of the coffee shop. They  knelt down next to Justin and JC gently pulled back the blanket and exposed the younger boy.  His shirt was unbuttoned and JC moved it aside.  Lance gasped.  W-H-O-R-E had been carved into the skin of Justin’s chest and  black and purple bruises bloomed everywhere else, where he had been punched repeatedly. JC started to unzip Justin’s jeans, but Lance put a hand over his and stopped him. “I get it,” he said in a strangled voice, the room starting to blur through the tears.  Just then Justin moaned and started to thrash, begging an unseen assailant to leave him alone, to let him go. Lance wanted to crush this boy to him and make everything all right, but JC got there first, leaning over and dropping sweet kisses on him, promising to make things better.  When Justin finally quieted, JC motioned Lance out of the room. “Can you get them to skip the undressed part for a while?” JC looked desperate, afraid that this would end Justin’s chances of escaping the hell his life had become. Lance frowned.  He debated how much he could tell Jenna without blowing the whole deal.  Hooker might not go over too well in explaining why Justin couldn’t strip for them.  On the other hand, no amount of makeup would hide the damage to his upper body. “Well?” JC asked. “Honestly, I don’t know,” Lance replied.  “I can try. But that’s all I can promise.” Suddenly, Lance had an idea and he brightened.  “Do you have any good pictures of him?” JC looked confused, “You mean, like photos?” “Yeah, like photos, you know, those things you take with a camera?” JC thought about it.  They had few belongings between them.  Then he sat up, a happy grin on his face. “Yeah, hold on a couple,” he said as he raced out the door. Lance spent the time JC was gone, formulating the lie he would tell Jenna and praying that the picture would be usable.  He had even added to the caffeine buzz by the time JC banged in, breathless from running.  He held out a small frame and Lance took it. He hissed.  It was amazing, a picture of the two of them, Justin grinning into the camera, a halo of golden curls and JC leaning over his shoulder, a sweet smile in better times.  “Lord!  You two are made for the camera.” “So this one is ok?” JC asked anxiously. “Oh yeah, this is great.  When was it taken?” JC’s face darkened, “Before he needed to do this.  I met him right after he got here from Carbondale, a year ago.  He had gotten a job at a deli and I went in there every day, three times a day, just to talk to him for a few minutes.” “Did he know you were a ....?” Lance asked tentatively. “Yeah, I told him from the beginning and we never...umm...never .....like really dated.  We tried but we realized we were better friends than we would be lovers.  This picture was taken by a friend of ours, when we all went to the beach for the day.” Lance watched the young man sigh, recalling happier times for them.  Then he squared his shoulders and sat up, “So, how will the picture help?” “I’ll tell her I found a friend of his who gave me the picture.  I’ll tell her you two left on vacation for a week but that I can reach you by phone.  The bruises will be gone and if the cuts aren’t too deep, they’ll be healed, too.” JC smiled in relief.  “God, he’ll be so happy.” “The guy that did that.....” Lance began but trailed off when JC looked furious. “That bastard.  He has a rep for that shit.  Justin was so desperate last week, he went with the guy but he swore he wouldn’t do it again.” JC shook his head, “I don’t know how the perv got him to go this time.” “Lynn says he attracts that kind,” Lance said. JC looked miserable, “It’s true.  I don’t know why. It’s like every other time, someone just wants to get off hurting him.” “Maybe he won’t need this anymore,” Lance said softly and prayed that it was true.  JC just nodded. Lance and JC moved into the back room and sat with Justin, speaking in low voices.  JC told Lance his story and from the hints JC dropped, Justin’s was similar.  Throwaways— gay kids who had nowhere else to go.  No steady jobs, no apartment, no family.  Neither of them took all the work that they could, the humiliation of selling their bodies too much some nights. For several hours, Justin slept through the low hum of voices, but around noon, he started to move restlessly, coming slowly to awareness. “Hey, babe,” JC said, leaning over him.  The long lashes fluttered and Justin opened his eyes, blinking to focus in the dim light. “Hey yourself,” he said softly.  He shifted and then hissed in pain as he rolled over onto one of the many bruises he knew were there.  He hadn’t seen Lance yet. “Why did you go with him, Jus?” “He said he’d tell the cops I propositioned him in church.  I was afraid.  They were already pissed from yesterday.” His hand strayed unconsciously to his chest, “I guess.....you saw this.” JC nodded.  Justin bit his lip, “JC, he bought all this shit this time, just for me, he said.” “Sssh, Jus, you’re safe here.” “He wanted me to stay and be his bitch and God help me, JC, I considered it.  A room, meals, clothes.....” he stopped, overwhelmed by how close he had come to totally selling his soul as well as his body.  He curled into a ball, groaning. JC touched his shoulder, “Hey, want some good news?” Lance motioned frantically for him to keep quiet and even though he didn’t understand, he listened.  So when Justin asked what the good news was, he said that Lynn wanted him to stay at her apartment for a few days. Justin frowned, not sure why that was such good news, but he shrugged and said that that was fine.  JC rubbed his friend’s back until he had soothed him to sleep again, before he caught a glimpse of Lance. JC dragged Lance out once Justin was asleep.  “What the hell?” “Wait,” Lance said, “I didn’t want to get his hopes up.  I’m going to the office now to sell him but there are no guarantees and I didn’t want to see him get dropped on his head again.” JC supposed it was sensible but even the small glimmer of hope that was there would have helped. Justin hadn’t had much hope at all in a long time. continue menu