Chapter 8 - Adaptation.

It appeared that the Demarcus Man was not amused by the way Justin had tamed his formerly vicious guard dog. 

When the pimp came downstairs and found little Justin petting Boss into submission, he pretty much lost it. The Big Angry Man sputtered and apologized but nothing seemed to placate Mr. Demarcus. He just kept yelling about how Stan had broken his dog and demanded that Hugo compensate him for the loss. Hugo, staunch businessman that he was, absolutely refused to even entertain such a ludicrous idea. The two men spent the next ten minutes screaming at each other. At one point it looked like they might even come to blows.

All the yelling and testosterone flying around only served to frighten the poor animal more. But when the beast climbed into Justin‘s lap and hid its head against the young man’s shoulder, that was the last straw for Demarcus Man. The enraged black man stomped his foot, pointed towards the door, and then, in essence, threw them out. Angry Man pulled Justin up to his feet and forcibly dragged him out of the apartment. The last thing the youth saw before the door was slammed behind them was Demarcus tugging cruelly at the snarling dog’s collar to restrain the animal from following his new best friend.

Justin was too worried about the poor puppy to listen very closely as Hugo grumbled and cursed for the next several blocks. It wasn’t till Hugo moved on from grumbling and complaining about being thrown out without being paid all the money Demarcus owed him, and started lighting into Justin for being the cause of his pecuniary loss, that the young blond man finally looked up from his own bare feet and tuned in again. Without any better target for his pissy mood, all of Hugo’s animus quickly refocused on his rebellious boy.

“I don’t know what the fuck’s got into you tonight, Stan. All the babbling and shit you were spouting off about back at the hotel is one thing; that was just among family and I can deal with any of the boys that might start acting up because of your nonsense. But it’s a whole ‘nother shit pile when you start disrespecting me in front of my business associates. I’m not gonna stand for you costing me money, boy. Do you hear me?”

Justin didn’t immediately respond, which seemed to piss Hugo off even more. Mr. Angry Man stepped around the slightly-built youth and physically blocked the sidewalk with his massive presence. He was so angry by that point there were little flecks of spittle sticking to the corners of his mouth and all the veins on the forearms crossed over his chest were throbbing. Justin, rightfully, felt threatened. But when he tried to take a couple of steps back, Hugo pressed down on his shoulder with one massive meat paw, effectively holding him in place.

“Fuck this shit!” Hugo exclaimed. “I’m done coddling your ass, Stan. You’re on the top of my shit list right now, kid.” Angry Man blew out a huge huff of air, shook his head, and seemed to come to some decision about Justin’s fate. “You know, I thought maybe you were ready to take on some more responsibility but fuck that. I don’t know what I was thinking, trying to make you my bottom bitch . . .”

By that point, however, Justin felt like he’d really had enough. No matter how intimidating this Big Angry Man was, Brian had always told him never to take shit from anyone. So, in spite of his fear, and the rather obvious difference in their sizes, the courageous young man decided it was time to leave.

“I don’t know why you keep saying that, Mr. Man,” the youth spoke up, interrupting Hugo’s diatribe mid-sentence. “I know I have a nice bottom - Brian mentions that quite often, actually - but I’m not interested in letting anyone other than my boyfriend get near it. And I don’t appreciate you using bad words around me all the time. I’m not anyone’s ‘B-Word’; that’s just a mean thing to say. Especially after I stuck around to try and help you with the Demarcus Man, who, by the way, doesn’t seem very nice either considering the way he was mishandling that sweet puppy . . .”

The longer Justin spoke, the more furious Hugo became. The tenacious blond was just getting started though. He’d had a really troublesome afternoon and an even worse evening and his patience was at an end. He needed to get home to Brian. He was tired of trying to be nice to this Angry Man who was saying all sorts of unpleasant things to him. He wasn’t going to back down again.

Luckily, the simmering impasse was interrupted right then by the timely arrival of the one Justin thought of as Skinny Boy. 

“Hey, Daddy. Trey’s got a problem customer; the guy’s giving him a hard time about your new pricing plan. Can you come sort the guy out before Trey gets himself decked?” Hunter asked, looking as contrite as possible for having to intrude on Hugo’s impending meltdown. 

“I bet it’s that fucking Porsche guy, isn’t it?” Hugo replied, easily distracted, already turning to stomp off down the street. “That entitled asswipe is always trying to get a discount. It’s not like he’s hurting for money either; he just doesn’t want his wife to notice how much cash he keeps dropping; she might find out what he’s doing on the down-low. Closeted rich guys make me sick . . .” Hunter breathed a sigh of relief, thinking he’d managed to stave off another Hugo beat down and save his buddy Stan’s hide, only to tense up again when the pimp called out to them before rounding the corner at the end of the block. “Don’t think this means I’ve forgotten about the shit storm you caused tonight, Stan. I’ll be back to deal with YOU later; after I get Trey sorted out.”

“Damn. You in some serious trouble, brother,” Hunter sympathized, putting a friendly arm around Justin’s shoulder. “What the hell happened at Demarcus’ pad? Did you piss in his cornflakes or something? I ain’t seen Hugo that chapped since Stefano stole his east-side territory.”

“I would never relieve myself in anyone’s breakfast cereal. That would be gross,” Justin responded, wrinkling his nose.

Hunter laughed and put his arm around Justin’s shoulders as he began to lead the older boy down the street in Hugo’s wake. “You’ve fucking lost it tonight, Stan.” 

Hunter side-eyed the youth shuffling along beside him, noted that his friend was barefoot again despite the rather cold and dirty sidewalk they were traversing, and wondering again what had gotten into Stan. The kid had seemed off since Hunter had found him wandering around in the rain. It was more than that bump on the head making him forget shit; there was something more going on here. All the weird shit Stan was saying, the odd way he was talking, and the strange way he was acting . . . It was all kinda spooking Hunter. His friend just wasn’t acting like the Stan they all knew.

As they continued down the block, Hunter surreptitiously scanned his friend but, except for the now-dirty scrap of gauze on his temple, Stan looked just like he always did. Maybe Stan’s hair was a little shorter than it had been - Hunter wondered where the other boy had found the dough to get what looked like a professionally styled cut - but otherwise he appeared pretty much the same. Then Hunter noticed that Stan’s clothing was a better quality than Hugo’s boys usually sported. Where had Stan scored a pair of G-Star jeans - that shit was pricey - and was that shirt from J. Crew? Definitely a step up from the usual Big Q apparel and hand-me-downs the working boys usually made do with. In fact, except for the fact Stan seemed to have lost his shoes, the kid was dressed better than anybody else out on the streets that night. So how’d a street rat like Stan manage such an upgrade to his wardrobe, huh?

Despite looking vaguely normal, though, Hunter’s long-time friend was acting completely lost. The kid was staring around himself, looking at what should have been the familiar surroundings where the boys always worked their trade, as if it was all new. Hell, Stan had been on these streets for longer than almost anyone; he’d been the one to show Hunter the ropes and give him the requisite tour of the ‘hood only a year or so before. But now he acted like he’d never seen the place before? That was weird, right?

Not to mention the way Stan had been talking back to Hugo . . . Did the kid have a death wish or something? That bump on Stan’s head must have knocked out more than just his memory; the boy seemed to have lost all common sense as well. Even though Stan had always been one of their Daddy’s favorites, not even the pet could get away with shit like that for long without a serious beat down. Concussion or not, you’d think a streetwise hustler like Stan would be smarter about not pushing the buttons of the guy who owned his ass. 

Yeah, something was definitely off with Stan.

They didn’t have time to get into all that, though, so Hunter merely shook his head and sighed. It was show time. Hunter’s nightly quota wasn’t gonna earn itself. Besides, Hunter was tired of the drama for the night. So, when it looked like Stan was about to open his mouth and spout more stupid shit, Hunter cut his friend off.

“Enough already, Stan. It’s one thing if you get yourself in trouble, but pissing Hugo off makes life harder for all of us, so just give it up already. Okay?”

Justin sighed. “I just want to go home, Skinny Boy. Please? Brian’s probably getting really worried about me by now.”

Hunter stopped and looked at his friend - really looked at him - for a long time. Again with the crap about this ‘Brian’ guy and going ‘home’? What the fuck? Maybe that knock on his noggin really had done a serious number on his brain or something? 

Not that Hunter knew what to do about it if that really was the case. The best solution he could come up with was to try and humor the other boy and hope that Stan would eventually snap out of it. If not . . . Well, they could figure out what to do later if this condition turned out to be more permanent, right?

“Come on, Stan,” Hunter spoke up, grabbing the blond by the arm and starting, once more, to lead him down the street towards the strip where Hugo’s boys usually plied their trade. “We can’t go traipsing around town this time of night. Especially not with Hugo already in a shitty mood and us still with our quotas unmet.”

Justin, who didn’t know what a quota was or care about Hugo’s mood, tried to dig in his dirty bare heels, shrugging off the hand on his arm. “No. I want to go home. NOW!”

Hunter groaned and scrubbed at his face in frustration. “What do you want from me, Stan?” Justin continued to stare at him with an expression somewhere between anger and tears. “Look, we can’t bug out now. There’s just no way. I’m not gonna risk going against Hugo - not tonight. But, if you shut the fuck up and stop acting like a fool for the next couple of hours, I PROMISE, I’ll help you look for this Brian dude tomorrow morning, okay?”

Justin looked around himself. He didn’t recognize anything. He had no way to contact Brian. It was getting really late and the thought of wandering around Pittsburgh alone, at night, was more than a little daunting to the boy who, until recently, had lived his entire life locked up with his crazy mother in a two-bedroom house in the suburbs. Even though he didn’t really know this Skinny Boy, or any of the rest of them, staying with them seemed a lot less scary than leaving on his own. 

“I guess I don’t have much of a choice, do I?” Justin muttered unhappily. “I suppose . . . If you promise to take me to Brian tomorrow . . . I guess I can stay, at least for one night.”

“That’s my boy.” Hunter grinned at his friend and resumed his path heading down the block. 

Justin reluctantly followed his companion. When they turned the corner onto a much busier street, the lost blond boy suddenly found himself amidst a small crowd of people. There were several shops opened up along this stretch of road: all-night markets, pot shops, a tattoo parlor, and even one particularly tacky-looking dive bar down on the far corner. The traffic along this stretch - both the foot traffic as well as the vehicular traffic driving past - was remarkably heavy for this time of night, especially on a Tuesday evening. Justin wasn’t sure about all the strange people wandering around and bumping into him; he still wasn’t used to people much when he didn’t have a protective Brian nearby to reassure him. Altogether, though, this lot seemed too intent on their own business to pay Justin much notice, which was good as far as he was concerned.

Justin stuck close as the Skinny Boy took up a position next to the pole holding up the traffic light on the corner. The nervous young blond looked around himself, trying to figure out what, exactly, he was supposed to be doing. Scattered amongst all the customers coming and going from the local businesses were most of the boys that Justin had seen in the hotel room where he’d first met Hugo. The entire motley crew of young men were slouching around in doorways, laughing and joking with each other, smoking cigarettes, flirting with the folks walking by, and just basically goofing off. Or so it seemed. 

But then, every so often, Justin would see one of them walk over to the curb, gesture to a driver in a passing car, and lean in to talk through the window of the vehicle when it stopped. Sometimes the passenger-side door would pop open and the boy would get in with the unseen driver before the car drove off again. A few minutes later, the same car would return and the boy would climb out of the car and return to his friends. Once, Justin saw the boy called Beauty take a rather large wad of cash from the driver of a big, silver Audi as the kid was getting out of the vehicle; when Beauty met up again with his friends waiting next to the door of the market, he waved his fistful of money at them and bragged about how he was having a pretty good night. 

Justin didn’t understand any of it. 

A couple of minutes later a short, fat, greasy-looking man sporting an ugly comb-over came out of the bar and made his way down the street. As soon as he neared the spot where Justin and Hunter had been standing, Skinny Boy stepped into the man’s path and offered up a simpering little smile.

“Hey there, Felix. You lookin’ for some company tonight?” Hunter offered with a leer. 

“Sorry, Baby. I can’t tonight. I’m supposed to meet a guy in,” the man looked at his watch, “twenty-five minutes.”

“Come on, Felix. Help a guy out, wontcha? I’m nowhere close to making my quota tonight,” Skinny Boy pleaded. The Felix man looked at Hunter and Justin could almost see the wheels spinning in his head. “How about if I give you a discount on a quickie? One for the road?”

That seemed to convince Mr. Felix, who nodded and then tilted his head towards a dark side street a few meters down the block. Hunter grinned and led the way in that direction. Felix was only a step or two behind the youth. Justin, who didn’t know what to do with himself and didn’t care for just waiting around alone, chose to follow as well. 

Skinny Boy led the whole parade down the side street and then ducked into an even darker alley behind the strip of buildings they’d been standing in front of. About ten meters down the alley there stood an assortment of teeming and noisome dumpsters. Hunter backed into the sheltered nook between two of the waste receptacles and then reached out with one hand to pull Mr. Felix into the smelly retreat after him. 

Justin, who still didn’t have a clue what was going on, peeked over the edge of the big metal dumpster and was a little surprised to see Hunter leaning against the dirty brick wall with his pants sagging down below his butt. Mr. Felix was already unzipping his fly with a business-like air. 

“Oh. Okay, I see. You’re doing boyfriend things. I wasn’t expecting that,” Justin announced, his voice echoing around the narrow alley rather loudly. There was a smattering of laughter coming from a little further down the alley, causing Justin to look up and note that there were at least two other couples hiding in similarly unobtrusive spots in the dark passageway. “It’s not the nicest place to have boyfriend lessons, though. Wouldn’t you rather take your boyfriend home and have sex in a nice clean bed rather than in this smelly alley, Skinny Boy?”

“Fuck off, Stan. Can’t you see I’m working here?” was the annoyed response from Skinny Boy. “You’ve got your own quota to fill, don’t you? Go find your own John and leave us alone already.” Then Hunter turned back to speak to Mr. Felix again. “Ignore Stan; he’s having a bad night.”

“It’s true. I really am having a bad night,” Justin couldn’t help but agree with that statement. “But I don’t want to interrupt you and your boyfriend, though. I guess I’ll just go back and wait for you in front of the store . . .”

“You do that,” Skinny Boy replied. Then both he and Felix seemed to forget about Justin’s presence altogether. However, Justin hadn’t taken even one step away when he heard Hunter grunting in pain as Mr. Felix stepped closer, pressed the youth’s face to the wall with one hand, and thrust with his hips against the younger man’s nether regions. “Yeah. That’s what I’m talking about, Big Boy. Fast and hard. Just the way you like it, right?” Hunter commented as if trying to egg the older man on.

Justin continued to stand there and stare in mild fascination. He didn’t much care for this Felix man; what kind of name was that anyway? The only Felix Justin knew was Felix The Cat - one of his favorite old-time cartoons -not that Skinny Boy’s balding, overweight, awkward boyfriend looked at all feline. This Cat Man didn’t seem like the nicest boyfriend, either, especially judging by the way he was pressing Skinny Boy’s head rather roughly against the dirty bricks of the alley wall. But who was Justin to judge true love, right? He didn’t want to intrude, so he started to walk back down the narrow passage, leaving the love birds to do their boyfriend things in peace.

When he came to the corner, Justin was almost run over as the boy called Trey came around the bend with another, older man, who looked like he was at least fifty, in tow. “How much is this going to set me back?” Oldster asked.

“That depends on what you want,” Trey explained with a flirty little tilt of his head. “Fifty for an appetizer. Hundred for the full meal deal. Or, if you want to spring for a hotel room, you can supersize and order off the menu a la carte, but that’ll cost you more depending on all the options.”

“What about condom-free? Is that one of the menu options?” Oldster asked as he shouldered his way past Justin, totally ignoring the shocked blond boy.

“Honey, you can’t afford that option,” Trey replied with a laugh. “PrEP ain't cheap, you know.”

“Would five Benjamins be enough?” The Oldster reached in his pocket and pulled out a wad of cash with a $100 bill clearly evidenced on the outside. With his other hand, the man held up a small white plastic packet with writing on it that Justin couldn't read in the darkness. “And I’ll even throw in your first dose.” 

Trey tilted his head to the side, smiled toothily, and snatched the packet out of Oldster’s hand. “Sure. Why the hell not.”

Justin had watched all this going down in silent shock. He didn’t know what was in the little packet, but it really didn’t matter; Brian had warned him from the very beginning that you NEVER had sex without a condom. Never. He’d even directed Justin to a page on the Devil’s Box - it was called ‘Planned Parenthood’, although he still didn’t understand why it was called that if Brian was right and there was no way for two gay men to get pregnant while doing boyfriend things - which had detailed all sorts of icky things about diseases you could get if you didn’t use condoms. But perhaps these boys didn’t know about Planned Parenthood or diseases?

“Excuse me, Mr. Trey, but that’s not a good idea,” Justin interrupted, trotting over so he could grab hold of the boy’s shoulder and pull him to a halt before the pair could reach an empty wall section beyond the furthest dumpster. “My Brian says you should ALWAYS use a condom. It’s just not safe without. You could get very sick. Not to mention it’s just way more icky without one; I mean, I don’t mind getting love juices all over me when I’m at home and can take a shower, but I don’t think it would be very nice out here in the alley when you can’t clean up afterwards.” Justin reached into the back pocket of his own jeans where, following Brian’s suggestion, he always kept a few condoms, just in case, and handed one to Trey. “Here. Always play safe, Brian says.”

Trey took the condom that Justin had thrust into his hand while exchanging confused looks with his older companion. Justin smiled and waved as he backed away, happy to have been of help to the younger boy. As he passed one of the other couples in the alley, though, he stopped one last time to offer yet another piece of helpful advice.

“You know, if you tuck your lips in more, you’ll not only cover your teeth better, but you get better suction,” he suggested to the Hispanic lad on his knees in front of a seedy-looking man with a bald head and a tattoo on his neck. “Brian also likes it when I stick a finger or two up his you-know-where at the end. I’m sure your boyfriend will like it too.”

And then Justin skipped away, leaving a whole alley full of bemused hustlers to carry on.