Justin shuffled through his mail.  It was the usual bills and shit. He rarely got anything of a personal nature.  He kept in touch with people by e-mail and phone, those people consisting mostly of Daphne and his mother and Molly.

He had spent a restless night after his chat with Emmett.  He couldn't believe that Brian had just disappeared. He hated what had happened to Brian, to the two of them.  It all seemed so wrong and so unfair. But he had always expected Brian to bounce back. Brian was driven to succeed.  Justin had been sure that after awhile the man would find another great job in advertising and once again be the success that he was destined to be.

Justin began opening his mail as he let his thoughts wander.  He wondered if there was any way to find out where Brian had gone.  None of the gang seemed to know what had happened to him. His bitch of a mother wouldn't tell him anything, and she probably knew less than he did about what had happened to her son.  He looked at the phone bill in his hand and made a mental note to pay it online later.

Justin looked through the ads and discarded all of those.  He remembered that he was supposed to have lunch with Rick today.  Rick had been his first friend when he moved to Chicago. They had met when Justin was trying to figure out the transit system.  He had been trying to get to the medical headquarters where he was going to do his mural. Rick had stopped to help him, and they had kind of hit it off.  Rick turned out to be gay and there had been an attraction between them, but Justin decided that he needed a friend much more than a lover at that point in his life.

It turned out that Rick lived less than a block away so they had begun to hang around together.  Rick was a waiter at an upscale bistro in Hyde Park in the southern part of Chicago. He kept telling Justin to come there for dinner, but Justin never felt his finances were up to it, and he had never managed to go.

Today was Rick's day off and they often met for lunch, sometimes for fast food, but today at a little café that they both liked.  It was three blocks down the street from where Justin lived.

Justin grabbed his backpack and stuffed in the sketchbook with his drawing for the clothing store.  He planned to go to the store after lunch and see if the wall for his mural was ready for him to begin work.  The store was scheduled to open in six weeks and he wanted to get started.

He walked quickly along the street still thinking about Brian.  He couldn't believe how that man had managed to take over his thoughts since he had looked at that fucking sketch yesterday.

Justin walked into the café and saw Rick sitting at a table by the windows.  He quickly joined him dropping his backpack on the window ledge.

"What's that for?" Rick asked noting the backpack.

"I'm going downtown after we eat to check out how soon I can get started on my mural."

"Can I see your sketches for it?" Rick asked.

Justin smiled.  He liked sharing his work with someone and Rick had a good eye.  He was always interested in whatever Justin was doing. They ordered their sandwiches and drinks when the waitress came by.  Justin pulled out his sketchbook so Rick could look at it while they waited for their meals.

"It starts here," Justin said opening the sketchbook to the middle.  "The first picture will be kind of out of focus, semi-abstract. She's nude, you see," Justin whispered.

Rick chuckled.  "Kind of lost on me."

Justin grinned as Rick turned the pages and worked his way through the series of drawings to the final one of the woman in a beautiful ball gown.  He held his breath waiting for Rick's comments.

"I may be gay, but she's gorgeous.  Who is she?"

Justin giggled.  "She's a combination of some great women I have known."

"Really?"

"Yeah, she has Lindsay's lips.  She has great lips, and Daphne's hair and my mother's nose."

"Maybe that's why she's kind of exotic looking."

"I'm glad you said that, because I wanted her to be kind of race-less or maybe that she could be of any race."

"I think you captured that," Rick marveled.  "But whose eyes are those? They're … mesmerizing."

Justin felt himself blushing.  "Oh, I kind of made them up."

Rick gave Justin a quizzical look.  He was about to say that those eyes were far too real to be made up, but something in the way that Justin squirmed in his seat made him leave that topic alone.

"I think your mural is going to be great," Rick said.  He flipped through some pages and came across a recent sketch of Brian.  In it the man looked cold and aloof. But something about the eyes caught Rick's attention.  "Who's this?" Rick asked.

"Someone I used to know," Justin said quickly and reached for the sketchbook.

Rick allowed him to take it and stuff it in his backpack.  "He looked kind of angry and cold," Rick said.

"Who?"

"The guy in that sketch."

"I guess he was."

"Beautiful though."

"If you say so," Justin said sarcastically.  He didn't want to discuss Brian's beauty or his anger or his coldness.  Justin knew where those eyes on the woman had come from. They were a version of Brian's in happier times.  Brian did have mesmerizing eyes.

"What's going on, Justin?" Rick asked.

"Nothing, why?"

"You seem edgy."

"I guess I'm just worried about starting this mural and whether or not Mr. Gillespie is going to like the sketches."

"Of course he'll like them.  They're great!"

"I knew there was a reason I kept you around," Justin teased.

"Want some company while you go downtown?" Rick asked.

"Are you volunteering to go with me?  Don’t you have anything better to do on your day off?"

"Not really?  You're not starting to work on the mural today, are you?"

"No, I just want to see if I can start on Monday and get final approval from Mr. Gillespie for the sketches."

"Then we could maybe go shopping and look around downtown.  I thought maybe I'd take you to the bistro for dinner. I get a great discount, and if we go in good time we can get in before it gets too busy."

"That sounds like fun," Justin said thinking about how long it had been since he had been out anywhere.  "Maybe we could find a club and go dancing afterwards."

"Actually there are a lot of clubs in the Hyde Park area.  It's an area of old mansions. The ones that haven't been torn down and made into ridiculously expensive townhouses are being turned into clubs and restaurants.  There's a great gay club called Bottoms just down the street from where I work."

"And do you have to be one to get in?" Justin asked with a twinkle in his eye.

"Huh?" Rick said and then laughed, getting it.  "It kind of takes both bottoms and tops to have things work out satisfactorily."

"No shit!" said Justin with a smirk.  "That sounds like it would be fun."

The waitress arrived with their sandwiches and they both dug in, too busy eating to talk.

                                                               -----

Mr. Gillespie loved the sketches, Justin could start on the actual mural on Monday and neither of them bought anything when they went shopping.  Rick and Justin had fun trying on clothes and looking at shoes, videos, CD's, and lots of other things. Justin was happy to relax, not think about work, and especially not think about Brian.

By the time they made their way towards Hyde Park dusk was falling and they were both hungry.  They had decided to take a cab since it would mean several transfers from where they were downtown.  The cab let them off in front of the bistro, called clearly enough Le Bistro. Justin looked around at the wide streets and the mix of old mansions and new homes.

"It's quite the neighborhood down here," Rick said.  "Multiracial, gay and straight, rich and upwardly mobile."

"Lots of customers for your restaurant," Justin said.

"Exactly.  People who bought in down here a couple of years ago have made a killing.  Business is booming."

"Where's Bottoms?" Justin asked with a giggle.

"See the neon way down there?" Rick asked pointing to his left.  "That's the club."

"What's that?" Justin asked pointing kitty corner across the street.  It was a very large old house with expensive cars parked outside, and someone was just getting out of a limo.

"That's quite the place," Rick said.  "It's called the Quoin."

"What's a Quoin?" Justin asked.

"I'm told it's a very exclusive high class brothel for gay men."

"No!" Justin responded his eyes very large.  "I never knew there was such a thing."

"Well now you do.  There's men coming, and I do mean coming, and going all hours of the day and night.  It never closes, but this time of night until about one in the morning seems to be the busiest time."

"Have you ever …?" Justin asked.

"Me?  God no!  I couldn't afford it, and I'm not sure I'd want to go there anyway," Rick said crinkling up his nose in distaste.

"I wonder what kinds of things they do."

"From what I hear you can buy anything you ever dreamed of in there."

"Wow!  Don't the police ever step in?" Justin asked remembering Stockwell's attempts to shut down the backrooms on Liberty Avenue.

"Prostitution is legal now," Rick said matter-of-factly.  "Has been for over a year."

"But I thought that was women, you know, prostitutes."

"What do you think you would call men who sell themselves for sex?" Rick asked looking at Justin like he was a misguided child.

"Oh, I was thinking hustlers…" was all Justin could say as he realized how stupid that must have sounded.

"We don't have the need or the money to have to worry about going there," Rick said taking pity on Justin's naiveté.  "Besides you could have any guy you want."

"I could?" Justin asked, then blushed realizing that it sounded like he was fishing for compliments.  "You're not so bad yourself."

"We should apply for a job over there," Rick teased as he pointed towards the Quoin.  A very distinguished looking gentleman was just going in. "On second thought let's get some dinner.  I'll tell you about some of the men who have come to dinner here before they go to the Quoin. The stories will curl your lovely blond locks."

"They talk about it?" Justin asked.

Rick nodded.  "Sometimes."

They went up the steps into the restaurant and Rick introduced Justin to the maitre d' and some of the wait staff that was on duty.  They got a table and ordered a couple of beers. Rick started to tell Justin about one of his memorable customers.

"This guy comes in one night.  He's already had a few. He's alone but he wants the best table in the house.  Aaron, the maitre d' tries to put him in a back corner to keep him out of sight.  He starts making a scene and flashing a wad of bills in Aaron's face. He wants the best table in the house.  Finally Aaron lets him pick any table he wants, just to shut him up."

"Sounds like a real asshole," Justin observed as Rick took a drink of his beer.

"Let's order," Rick said.  "It takes a while for them to prepare the meals."

They placed their orders with Greg, their waiter.

"So what happened with this guy with too much money and too few brains?"

"Hey, do you know this guy?" Rick teased.

"I've met some like that," Justin said thinking about one or two of his father's "friends" and a guy that had tried to pick him up one night on Liberty Avenue.

"Anyway, this guy orders wine and I'm trying to keep him from getting too drunk, so I suggest coffee.  He says he's only going across the street when he leaves and he'll be staying there all night. By this point I've figured out that he's going to the Quoin, so I tell him that I didn't know you could stay the night.  He says he has a hot ass all picked out and he's going to plow it all night long. He tells me that he's a top, of course."

"Means he's a big bottom," Justin said remembering what Brian always said about people who protested too much about being tops.

"Why do you say that?" Rick asked.

"Just an observation."

"So he gets his wine and I ask him how much a night like that at the Quoin would cost."

"You didn't?"

"I did.  He's pretty sloshed and likes to talk."

"So how much?"

"Five thou.  Can you believe it?"

"For one night. Christ!"

"Yeah, and then he tells me that it could cost more if he decides to take some extras."

"What does that mean?"

"I asked him the same thing.  Apparently you can have multiple partners and fisting and golden showers and a train and just about anything else you can imagine, and some you can't.  It all depends if the ones who do those things are available and you are willing to pay the big bucks."

"Ew," Justin said in disgust.  "Sounds like kink is alive and well in South Chicago."

"I guess so.  I don't know if the guy ever did any of that.  I think he was mostly bragging."

"Probably," Justin said thoughtfully.  He could remember a few kinky things he and Brian had done.

"Oh," Rick said remembering something else.  "He told me the guy who runs the place is a real stickler.  He said he's gorgeous and sometimes patrons can have him if the mood hits him, but most of the time he just supervises.  He said nobody gets out of line over there or they never get to come back. All of the kink is only done if the boys consent willingly.  Can you imagine agreeing to have someone pee on you?"

"Never!" Justin said making a face.  "This is a fucking weird world sometimes."

"Anyway, this owner or manager of the Quoin, or whatever he is, is supposed to be one great stud.  This guy said he had tried several times to book him, but the man wouldn't agree. I guess he picks the ones he wants, and I could see why he wouldn't want this bozo."

"Have you ever seen the manager?" Justin asked.

"No, I always watch when I'm coming and going, but I've never seen anyone that looks gorgeous and well hung enough to be this stud."

"Too bad," Justin said thinking about another stud from long ago.

"Yeah, way too bad," Rick chuckled.

Their dinners arrived then and they ate in comfortable silence for awhile.  The food was very good. Justin could see why the restaurant was doing so well.

When their waiter was clearing the dishes, Rick said, "Hey, Greg, have you ever seen the manager of the Quoin?"

"Not that I know of.  Nobody outside of the Quoin seems to know what he actually looks like.  Gorgeous and hung is all I ever hear."

"Is he some sort of hermit?" Justin wondered.

"Who knows?" Rick responded.  "Let's hit Bottoms for awhile."

"Sure," said Justin and they got up to leave.

Outside the restaurant Rick and Justin glanced across at the Quoin.  There was some kind of disturbance going on. Two burly looking guys were escorting a man towards a taxi that had pulled up in front of the steps.  They stuffed the man rather unceremoniously into the cab and it pulled away. The two men turned and looked up at someone who leaned out the door to make sure the man had been disposed of.

Justin had a quick intake of breath.  For a second he thought he recognized the man who had stuck his head out, but it couldn't be.

"Do you think that was the manager?" Justin asked Rick.

"Who?"

"The guy who stuck his head out the door."

"I didn't see him," Rick admitted.  "I was watching the guy they put in the cab."

"Why him?"

"I think it was the same asshole I was telling you about, but it's hard to see at this time of night."

"Yeah, it is."  Justin wondered if he had seen what he thought he had seen, or if his eyes were playing tricks on him, or his brain was, or the light was just too poor to be sure.

"Are you ready to hit the club?" Rick asked with a smile.

"Sure, let's go," Justin said with a backward glance at the Quoin.  There was no sign of the apparition he thought he had seen.

Rick and Justin danced until one in the morning and managed to get home by two.  It was the most fun Justin had had in months. If only he didn't have this nagging worry about the man he had seen at the Quoin.  He did his best to push the image out of his head, but it persistently came back again and again, leading to fitful dreams and a poor night's sleep.