Lost and Found

When Johnny stepped out of the bathroom all clean cut and looking far from just some slutty dancer, John couldn't help but smile and clap. "Well, well, someone cleans up real nice," he chuckled. "I sorta guessed your size, but I figured a snug fit slacks wouldn't bother you much considering- and that's not an insult. You look great Johnny."

John grabbed his long overcoat off of the rack and handed on to John. "The place we're going to is the BLT downtown Manhattan. It's a great place. The head cook is a lady by the name of Elise and it's endorsed by one of the greatest chefs in the world, Gordon Ramsay."

John chuckled. "I can clean up pretty damn good when he occasion calls for it. And thank you, it's not an insult at all." He said with smile. "I like tight things." He said, the line very provocative.

"That place sounds good to me." He said, smiling slightly. He wasn't used to fancy places though. He hadn't been to a restaurant in a while. He wasn't used to... luxury. Nice food, nice places, warm beds... it was all foreign to him. And he didn't want to get used to it because he knew it wouldn't last forever. That as soon as his apartment was finished, he'd go back to busting his ass just to make rent.

John rolled his eyes grabbing his favorite hat. "Let's get goin'. Get your mind out of the gutter before I leave you here." He was teasing of course, unable to leave the kid behind anyway, but sounding tough is what he did best. Kept people from growing on him and vice versa though in Johnny's case, he was unsure if things like that worked. Already he was beginning to push his buttons in ways no one dared to ever before.

He led Johnny to the car, the cool night air whipping across both their faces. It took about fifteen minutes to get to the restaurant, which was small and built for intimate business dinners or small dinner dates but everything looked lovely decorated in a deep blue. They were immediately showed to a small booth where complementary wine (a $500 bottle) sat in a bucket of ice in the middle of the table. They were handed small menus, everything written in French.

John looked over the menu. He spoke 7 languages, one of them being French. He spoke Italian, Spanish, French, Russian, Japanese, Chinese, and Portuguese. As a kid he was pretty damn smart, and liked learning different languages. He had planned on traveling a lot... until he was kicked up. That kind of fucked with his plans. A lot.

Many people looked at John and thought he wasn't too bright. Considering he was a prostitute, people thought he got by on his looks. But he probably wouldn't be alive in this kind if life if he didn't have his wit. Being able to outsmart and run away from angry pimps was kind of a talent. He chewed on his lip before he decide what he wanted. he brushed some hair out of his face before he sipped his wine.

"Everything looks good. I've never been to a French restaurant." He chuckled as eh glanced at the menu.

"You speak French son?" John asked. "Well good because I never know what the hell anything is. I just point and hope it's something good," he chuckled. John grabbed the bottle of wine out of the ice and popped the top pouring Johnny and himself a little.

"Oh I forgot to ask earlier about your job. You came home exhausted but hell, that just means you worked your ass off. Dave treatin' you alight? Well no. I'm sure he's still an ass but I mean, how you're holdin' up on your own there? Seems to me like you're doing better; growing a backbone so to speak."

John chuckled a little. "Yeah, I speak 7 languages fluently. If you need me to translate just ask." He said before he took a sip in the wine, which tasted amazing. He'd never had such good wine. It was usually cheap wine or cheap Vodka to keep him warm at night.

"And work was fine, I guess. Dave was out of town so the place was left by his brother who's a dumbass..." John shook his head. "Truckers were in town and... I got a few bruises but I'm fine. I told them groping came at a price." He said, his hand absentmindedly playing with a strand of his hair.

"That's good and all, but they shouldn't be gropin' you at all. You're not a prostitute Johnny so don't give them the satisfactions. Most truckers, with the exception of a few good ones I know, are nasty, foul men who think they own the road cuz they're drivin' a big truck. I've had some attempt to run be off the goddamned road- sons-a-bitches- so I know what you mean. I know you're little, but once you show people you can fight back eventually they get tired of botherin' ya. They want somebody they ain't gotta wrestle with and not some kid who's got a lotta fight in 'em."

John took a sip of his wine glad it wasn't that dry stuff. He'd tasted cheap wine that tasted better than the dry stuff that they served his most nights. "Enjoy your time without Dave and who knows? Maybe he won't come back."

John studied the menu some more. "Seven fluent languages. They use guys like you in government services. It's hard to find bilingual- or in your case- multilingual people. Now um...what's this?" he asked pointing to the first appetizer. "I'd like a shrimp salad to start me off but hell what's that? I know John Phillipe's gonna get tired of me asking him to translate the menu someday."

John chuckled a little. "That's Andouillette. It's basically tripe sausage stuffed with pork, chitterlings, pepper, wine, onions, and seasonings." He translated. "And I don't really think I'm government working material. I'm too pretty for the government." He said playfully.

"You're right, I guess. I've just gotten so used to being pushed around, my backbone is kinda nonexistent. It's just hard to fight back when your only 5'6" and weigh 180 and the man groping you is a monster on steroids." He sighed. "And actually... I am a prostitute. I go solo, so it's not like I have a pimp. But I... I do what I have to do to make money." John sighed and shook his head. John had always been a fighter. And he tried his best not to get stepped on but sometimes... he just didn't have it in him.

"I've been on the streets since I was 15. You'd think I'd know how to take care of myself by now, and that I wouldn't need the help of an attractive millionaire." John chuckled, taking another sip of his wine.

John made a face as Johnny was translating the dish. While he was a true sountherner at heart he did not eat thigs such as "tripe" or "chitterlings". John decided he'd pass on that and order his usual. The waiter returned to the table taking both their orders before leaving once again. John listened quietly sipping his wine following along really well until John said he was a prostitute. Now that was something he didn't expect.

"Prostitute? Oh... well I suppose..." He meant to finish that statement like all the others- work hard and do what you got to do to survive, but the kid was working in a club now. To John it made no sense to keep selling your body for money. No wonder that kid stayed sick and Lord only knows what else could have been wrong with him had John not made him see a doctor.

John did not like the idea of prostitution at all. He didn't even approve of the so called classy ones from brothels owned by the rich. He always though prostitution was a cop out. Stripping, sure, but selling your body? Your body was a temple so how could you live with yourself knowing you were defiling your body every night? Maybe he was wrong to judge but he couldn't help but feel that way. He decided not to comment on it and study the dessert menu instead while he waited on his entre.

John pursed his lips, knowing exactly what the man was thinking. Because it's what everyone thought when he told them. It's why shelters hated him. He did it to survive. Stripping was barely enough to pay for his apartment. Prostitution was what paid of this food, his cloths, his insurance... everything. And he didn't have time to get another stripping job so at night, the seediest times of the city, John sold himself on the street. He hated it, but he did it for money.

"Ya know... I do what I have to to survive. When your 15, kicked out of your house, and have literally nothing, selling yourself is really the only thing you can do to survive. And Dave would murder me if I started stripping somewhere else so prostitution was my last resort. Society can frown upon it, but that's because they don't really understand why we do it." John said lowly, clenching his jaw before he sipped his wind.

"Hey don't get all defensive on me. I never said I was damning you to hell for doing what you did. At fifteen years old, none of us exactly make the best choices. Hell I know adults that make bad choices, but I ain't gonna sit here and pretend that I like the idea of prostitution. Once you get a certain age, there's always other options. You just have to step out of your damn comfort zone and look for them. That's all I'm saying."

The waiter returned with their food moments later and at the perfect time John thought. He really didn't want to discuss the kid's personal life anymore because it wasn't his business. To him, there was nothing glamorous about prostitution and if the show was on the other foot, he'd be damned embarrassed about it. He took pride in his work but there are some things not even pride could make look good.

John sighed and started to eat his for quietly. He knew what Layfield was thinking. And he knew that prostitution was the worse occupation to have. But John felt as if he ran out of options. He didn't want to do it. But it was a last resort. If he didn't need the job to make money, he wouldn't even go near the pervs on the street.

But like he said, it was his last resort. He hate his meal, which h was pretty damn amazing. He hadn't got to eat good food like this since he was a kid. Admittedly, his missed his mother and her cooking. His mother didn't actually want to show him out, but she couldn't fight his father. John mentally shook his head, not wanting to think about that at the moment.

John shook his head. He didn't mean to yell at the kid but he already lived through a tough life. As an ambassador for making it through the tough times he always felt the need to give tough love when necessary. The rest of the meal was eaten in mostly silence. Only when dessert was brought out did the two engage in a little small talk over the fact that they paid $40 bucks for a piece of dessert that could be eaten in two bites. Fancy food was good, but often times very unfulfilling.

John paid the tab and ushered them out of the restaurant. Instead of going straight home though he ordered the driver to take a detour. Tonight was a good night for a late night walk through the park. Often times couples could be spotted in a little exhibitionist action while he himself enjoyed walking up on them with a flashlight spooking the hell out of them.

John didn't really like silence, but it was comfortable. During dessert, he still couldn't believe the portion he got for 40 bucks. It was delicious, buu ridiculous. But the place was nice and Layfield was nice enough to take him, so John would not be complaining. He enjoyed the food and enjoyed the feeling of having a full stomach.

John looked around the park he and Layfield were walking through. It was dark and quiet, the only light was the full moon and the dim lights occasionally scattered around the park. He knew this place. He came here when he was a round 15. It was peaceful and pervs rarely ever lingered around here, so it was safe. "I've been here before..." He breathed, glancing up at the sky. "It's ah... peaceful." He said, the corners of his lips quirking up in a small smile.

John looked over at the kid, arm subconsciously wrapping itself around Johnny as he glanced towards the twinkling sky. "Yup. It is a nice place. One of the nicer places in New York. I normally can't stand this Goddamned city but the one thing it does have that's nice is a park." He paused for a moment then added, "With a few exceptions."

John nodded. "I'm from LA. I like the city but sometimes it gets... too fast. I like the beach. If I could, I'd live on the beach. Surf, ya know.. usual LA beach boy stuff." He chuckled, absentmindedly leaning into Layfield. "And like what exceptions?" He asked as they walked, John enjoying the quiet.

"Well," he said with a chuckle. "I've learned that ya find some of the best people in the unlikeliest of places around here." John took off his hat running a hand through his hair. "Johnny I'm not a nice guy. Not very sensitive either. Most times sensitivity comes off as weakness to me and in all cases it's not."

He turned a corner leading them down another path through the park, streetlights lighting their path with a dim light. "I mighta hurt your feelings in that restaurant. I'm sorry Johnny."

"Hey, don't worry about it." John chuckled. "The world is full of different opinions. I get that. But I'm quitting the job anyway. It's just... It takes energy and time I don't have." He said, shrugging a bit.

"It's fine. I've met some mean people in this town. Trust me, your not the worst." He chuckled. "Hell, I have my moments. I can be a royal bitch and a diva. Trust me. Especially when it comes to fighting for the hairdryer." He joked and played with a strand of his hair.

John messed up his hair on purpose, laughing away all the tension. "Well thanks for letting me know. Next time I'll just let you have the damn hairdryer. I'm too old to fuss with a bratty diva over some old hair dryer."

John fiddled with Johnny's trench coat. "It looks good on you. A lot better on you than me. You should have it. And forget that damn job. Hell I'll go with you when you tell Dave to shove that job up his ass. We'll even leave a tip," he chuckled.

He pulled his own coat tighter around him before leading Johnny back towards their ride. It was getting late and they needed to get back.

John squeaked. "Hey! Not the hair!" He pouted and fussed with his locks to get them back to normal. "And yes, I' am a Diva, and I love it." He chuckled, glancing up at Layfield.

John smiled and looked down at the coat. "Thanks. It's warm and it fits well. And that sounds good but I still need a job. And it's hard to find around this town." He said. "Pretty looks only get you so far. Plus, when my apartment is done, you'll be leaving, right?" He asked as they slid back into the car, his hand subconsciously resting on Layfield's thigh.

John slid in next to Johnny arm still wrapped behind the young man. "I don't like New York Johnny. Hate this place. The air's terrible. People are bourgeois. The traffic sucks. The city is beautiful to look at when the lights are flashing during the night, but its no place to live. Vacation, yes, live? No."

John nodded and sighed. "I know. It's not my favorite place but I have no where else to go." He said, shrugging a bit and leaning against Layfield. "I'll miss your grouchy ass though." He chuckled, his hand rubbing his knee absentmindedly. "ANd I know I kinda grew on you." He teased.

"Actually," John chuckled, "There's some truth to that statement. I got used to being alone kid and then here I am, thrown into the big apple for damn business. Before I knew it I'm into a whirlwind of shit I ain't got no business involved in."

"I'm on stage receiving sexy lap dances--what the hell do I know about a lap dance?!" he laughed. "Ah well, helping you gave me somethin' to do besides work on my business all day and night. Hell I probably would not have experienced that kick ass cup of coffee and chicken salad had I not met you Johnny boy. Heh, I might miss you too."

John laughed. "I'm glad I could introduce you to good coffee and amazing chicken salad." He chuckled, shaking his head. "You did a lot for me. And to be honest, I'd probably be dead, from the flu or from Dave if you hadn't showed up. You didn't have to do all this and I appreciate it." He said softly.

"Maybe I'll give you a proper lap dance to show my gratitude." He chuckled. "They're better when you don't have the whole club watching. I mean... I'm a bit of an attention whore. I like attention, always have. But I guess I've been attracting the attention from the wrong types of people, haven't I?" He chuckled a bit, sighing deeply.

"Naa the stuff I did was spend money that was probably going to be spent on another set of golf clubs, which I don't need since I already have so damn many! I need to donate them to a shelter or something."

The car finally pulled up to the hotel, the driver letting them both out. "A proper lap dance?" he chuckled. "Boy when are ya gonna learn that I'm simple. It don't take all of that to turn my head, but I do enjoy watching a good dance every now and then."