Lost and Found

John watched the kid hurrying into his shabby looking sleeping quarters. It was in a shady looking neighborhood at best and since he had a gun, he felt like he ought to make sure the kid at least got inside the house. When the kid was safely inside, he signaled for his driver to move along. They'd wasted enough time as is over being good Samaritans--something he was NOT accustomed to.

John lay back against the plush leather seat, his eyes closing. The car drove so smoothly that it was always easy to catch a quick nap here or there between meetings. He yawned hoping to get some rest. However all he could think about was that poor kid. I sure hope he gets himself a gun soon... He chuckled to himself, remembering the chat he had with Hunter earlier that day about strippers and women. That was his last thoughts before he drifted off to sleep.

John awoke the next morning to his alarm. He glanced at the time, and groaned. He had to bar tend today, but at least he didn't have to dance. He was far too soar for that. As he got ready, his thoughts went back to that man who saved him and given him a ride. He really was grateful for that. And he wished he could do something for him, but that man seemed to have everything he could possibly want.

He sighed and grabbed his jacket and wallet, going outside and heading towards the station for the subway, using the last of his money for the day on a ticket. He rode the train to the Cat n' Mouse, clocking in and going to sit on the stool behind the bar. It was a slow morning, and for that, he was grateful. The big, star show's don't start until 7 pm, so for now the joint was basically a bar. He couldn't help but wonder if he'd see that man again today. But he doubted it. A man like that seemed to have a lot more important things to attend to. But still, John could hope.

John was not happy that he missed his plane. He messed around and overslept (musta turned the alarm off by accident instead of hitting the snooze button) and now because of bad weather, he was stuck somewhere he did not want to be. John fired up his lap top attempting to work on some business reports but it was hard getting serious about work when all he wanted to do was get back to Houston. He wanted to get back to his Texas ranch so badly that in the last couple of nights, he found himself dreaming about those long hikes he would take around his ranch.

Minutes turned to hours and pretty soon he was calling for his driver. He needed food and he needed to get drunk. Not too drunk, but just enough to take the edge off of him.

His driver drove around trying to find a bar that wasn't so crowed. He hated crowds but most of all, he hated beggers. Most times when people found out who he was, they'd immediately stick their hands out feeding him some sad life story. He wasn't in the mood for that. If your life's so damn bad then why not take the proper steps to change it? Or at least that's how he thought about it even though others would probably remind him that it's not that simple for some folk.

They ended up at the Cat N Mouse. The place looked familiar but hell, he'd been in so many bars in the span of a week that he wouldn't doubt he's been there before. He dragged himself inside taking a seat at one of the tables in the back rather than the bar. He grabbed a menu and started looking over it.

John flipped lazily through a magazine, wishing there was a customer so he could busy himself. Dave came up behind him, nudging him on the shoulder. "There's a customer, Johnny." The big man said, and lightly pushed John forward. John blinked when he recognized the man. It was the man who'd given him the ride. He smiled slightly but shook it off. The man probably forgot about him already. He put on his apron and grabbed his note pad to take his order.

John walked up to the familiar man, doing the usual introduction, though he was still very tired and it showed, plus there was still a red hand print on his face from his attack last night.

"Hello, welcome to the Cat N Mouse. I'm Johnny Nitro and I'll be your waiter. Are you ready to order, sir?" He asked, running a hand through his hair in a tired manor as he got out his note pad to take his order.

John didn't look up at first as his eyes were still scanning the menu. He couldn't decide if he wanted the chicken salad of the BLT. After another moment's glance, he folded the menu handing it to the waiter. He frowned at the brief moment of recognition he had. He also had to fight his muscles to remain straight faced as his eyes rounded on the hand print, but he wasn't about to mention it and put the guy on the spot. Instead, he placed his order opting to pretend last night never happened.

"I'll have the chicken salad and a cup of coffee--2 cremes, 3 part sugar."

John nodded, scribbling the order down. "Yes sir. If you need anything, just call." He said, almost monotonously. The man acted like he he didn't even recognize him. But what did he expect? For him to care? Yeah right. Who the hell would care about a broke ass stripper? No one, that's who. John waited a few minutes for the salad and mixed the man's coffee. He kinda hope the man would give him a little recognition... but he knew that hoping was useless. He sighed and walked back tot he table. On the way back, a dirty trucker took a hard squeeze of his ass. "Hey!" John squeaked, and and jumped again when another felt up his crotch. The table just laughed, and John's faced flushed red. He sighed, looking down in embarrassment. He should be used to it, but he'd never get used to the humiliation.

"Here's your order sir, will that be all?" He said to the man after he set down the food. It was obvious in his voice he was holding back tears, but John pushed them back. He hated his job.

While John waited for his order to be filled, he did his usual poking around his PDA trying to ignore the ongoings of the place. There was a message from Cole stating he could be out of there first thing in the morning since the weather report stated the storms were passing on. "Thank God," he grumbled. By the time he finished poking around his messages, the kid was back with his order--a delicious looking chicken salad and coffee he hoped would perk him right on up. He mumbled a thanks, too set on himself and getting his ass back to Texas to notice the hurt in the kid's voice. He passed him a hundred dollar bill. "That should more than cover the bill and tip. I'll be leaving as soon as I'm done eating. That should save you another humiliating walk past a bunch of low lives."

The corners of John's lips perked up a little, though it was barely noticeable. "Thank you, sir." He murmured quietly, taking the bill and went back to behind the bar, filling a few drinks before sitting back on the stool. He glanced at the hundred bill. At least he could take the train home now, and he wouldn't have to walk, considering it started raining. That man, even if his attitude wasn't great, had been pretty good to him since he met him. It was a shame he was leaving, though. And he doubted he'd see him again. That's what he got for getting a little attached. He sighed, and continued to flip through the lazily flip through the magazine.

John watched the kid...well man as he headed back to his post before digging in to his food. For such a shabby place by his standards the food was good and the coffee even better. He made a note to at least grab a cup of coffee on his way out tomorrow morning. It certainly would make the flight back to Texax more bearable.

When he finished the last of his food, he stuck another bill under the empty coffee cup. He stood up straightening his tie and putting his signature hat back on. He looked over towards the kid's post, tilting his hat--his own way of saying that everything tasted great--before he exited the building with nothing on his mind except good coffee and his bed back home in Texas.

Johns miled softly as he watched the man leave. He wondered if he'd ever see him again. He shrugged slightly and went over to clean the table, slipping the tip in his pocket. That man must be pretty damn rich if he could afford to throw hundred dollar bills at him. He finished cleaning the table before going back to the bar. He sighed as the place got busier, the show about to start. He was serving drinks left and right, people pinching his ass every chance they got. He just wished he didn't have to go through this. That he'd had a different life.

Hell, he'd be happy to be with someone that loved him... that wouldn't abuse him. But John was alone, and it'd always stay like that. He was finally able to go on break. He was exhausted, and He just wanted a break... fro everything. A different life...

John went back to his hotel room and fired up his laptop. Now that he knew he would be able to fly back around noon tomorrow, he was now in a better mood to do a little work. Before he could get down to business, he wanted to check something out. He couldn't help but remember how shotty that neighborhood out in Manhattan looked. He did a google search and viewed parts of the neighborhood. Even on google maps that entire area looked in dire need of renovations but there was no way in hell he was spending all his money trying to clean up the place especially since he wouldn't be caught dead living up north. He was too much of a southerner at heart and had very little patience for northern ways.

He quickly typed up an email to the city counsel hoping that maybe they would reconsider fixing up those neighborhoods, if not the entire neighborhood just a few renovations of the apartment complexes. From what he could remember from last night, none of those buildings were fit to live in and he was willing to bet thousands that most of those buildings had an unsafe level of mildew in them which was dangerous. If there were any children living in those buildings, the mildew would explain why they stayed sick all the time.

He yawned, closing his laptop then settled in bed for the night. He had a long flight ahead, business meeting late tomorrow after noon but before he would get to any of that, he was making damn sure to grab a chicken salad to go and a cup of coffee.

For John, the night went by slowly. But he was just grateful he wasn't dancing tonight. When his shift was over, he clocked out and left the club. He quickly went to the subway station, avoiding any pervs or people who wanted to steal what little money he had. He bought his ticket, thanks to the fat tip that man had given him. He boarded the train, keeping his bag close to him.

When he arrived at his stop, he quickly hopped off the train, hurrying to his crappy apartment. He quickly got inside, and shut his door behind him. He took a quick shower, not wanting to waste any hot water before changing into sweats and a tank top. He tried to turn up the heat, but it didn't work. "Shit!" He cursed, realizing his radiator was busted. He sighed sadly, knowing there was no way he could afford to fix it.

He climbed into bed, shivering from the lack of heat. He pulled the covers tightly over his small body, desperately wanting some sleep

John woke up the next morning feeling giddier than usual. In less than half a day he'd be able to sleep soundly in his own bed. He got a quick shower then his phone rang, Cole, reminding him that his flight was leaving in an hour. That gave him plenty of time to grab that chicken salad he enjoyed so much as well as a cup of brew.

He wasted no time getting checked out of the hotel and ordered his driver to stop by the Cat N Mouse for his food to go. "Go ahead and call it in so we don't have to wait too long." John checked his watch. "We don't wanna cut it too close."

"Yes sir Mr. Layfield."

John took the order on the phone, and when it was finished, he held it at the bar, waiting for someone to pick it up. He had a slight cold, due to lack of heat and hot water, and walking to his job because he had no money for the train. He sniffled slightly. He had a few truckers push him around on his way through the parking, which is why he had a bruised jaw.

John sighed, glancing at the bagged food and the coffee in a to-go cup. He wondered... nah. And even if that man kept coming back, it wasn't because of him, that was for sure.

John initially wanted his driver to go in and grab the food but then he decided he had better go on and take a quick bathroom break so he wouldn't have to get up at all on the plane.

Once inside the Cat N Mouse, he quickly headed for the restroom, doing a little bit of last minute grooming. Once satisfied, he made his way back out easily spotting no doubt the man who had his order. His head was down staring at the bagged goods. John never questioned others on their thoughts or feelings especially if he didn't know them well. He supposed the kid, (his name kept escaping him) just had a really rough start to the morning.

He approached the bar. "Is...this my order? Layfield's the name of the order I would think."

John looked up when he saw that man at the bar. He blinked for a minute before snapping out of it. He shook his head. THis man didn't care about. One goos deed didn't mean he would ask about every bruise on John's face. So john just looked down, hair falling over the large bruise on his jaw, sniffling slightly due to his cold.

"Y...Y-Yes, sir. Here you go. Hope you e-enjoy." John whispered as he handed the man his food and coffee,

John Layfield knew he was not the most compassionate of men. However, it seemed like every time he saw this man, he looked worse off that before. He couldn't help but wonder if he had an old flame in and out of his life randomly beating the hell out of him every chance he got. And John could relate. He had a history of being somewhat of a brutal man but his last client managed to break him in a way that made him realize what he was doing was wrong.

John casually pulled out his wallet. "How much do I owe?" He was trying his damndest not to ask any questions. Besides, he had a plane to catch so not much time for conversating and dawdling. However, he felt like someone was kicking him in the gut to ask about the bruises and the cold.

"T-Ten dollars total." He stuttered quietly his eyes glued to the floor. He'd like to keep his horrible life to hitself, but he sorta wanted the man to ask... So he'd at least feel like someone cared. But exactly what did he expect this man to do? To care? No. Who would care about a dirty, damaged stripper like him?

He jumped a foot in the air when one of the truckers called to him, demanding a beer and throwing insults at him the whole him. John sighed and sadly and got the man his beer. "This is piss warm you little slut!" The trucker yelled and threw the open can of beer at him. He gasped, the beer drenching shirt. Great. He couldn't afford any more clean shirts, nor had the money to do laundry. All his money went towards his shitty apartment.

As John was going through his wallet looking for something smaller than 100 dollar bill, he couldn't help but frown at the noisy truckers. He only bothered to look up when out the corner of his eye, he saw John jump, the can of beer hitting him and drenching his shirt. He shook his head. He couldn't understand how the owner of such an establishment could allow his employees to be abused like this. It kinda ticked him off.

"Hey kid? Come here and get this cash." John checked his watch. Those lunatic truckers were gonna make him miss his plane at this rate which meant a possible beat down for them all if he did miss it. "And kid? While you're at it, I'd like a word with your boss. Don't dawdle now. Make it quick."

John looked at the man, taking the cash before hurrying to go get Dave, trying to dry his shirt in the process. What that man wanted to talk to his boss about, he didn't know. He hoped the man wouldn't complain about John's service. Dave would dock his paycheck in a second, which is why John always had to accept the abuse.

He couldn't even complain himself. Dave hated complaints, and would fire John if he complained too much. "D-Dave? One of the patrons wants to speak t you." He said quietly. Dave rolled his eyes, growling and making his way over to the bar. "Who asked for me?" He snapped, not having the patience for this. John just cleaned up the spilt beer, keeping quiet and looking down.

John stared at Dave for a moment like the man had lost his mind--and maybe he wasn't in his right mind at all. Only an idiot owner would talk trash to a millionaire mogul; millionaire with the means to buy this run down joint if he wanted it. John chuckled, laying the money out for John. Once again it was another crisp $100 bill. "It's your tip son. You do real well taking orders and putting up with crap."

John looked over at Dave, a right scowl on his face. "And you. You're the owner of this crap establishment right? Well if ya wanna continue to stay in business then you ought to do better at controlling your rowdy customers. I pay real good money to eat here but I'll be damned if I'm gonna keep coming back listening to loud, dirty talking while I'm tryin' to eat my chicken salad."

John looked over at Johnny, who seemed to be trying hard to stay busy. "You should take better care of your workers too," John added quietly. "If he ever gets the balls to go to Human Resources on you, you'll be fined, he'll get a lump sum of money and you'll be forced to close this place down. You should keep all that in mind when you're sitting on your ass watching people chuck beer cans at him. He doesn't deserve that. No one deserves to be abused like that."

John looked at the man. Did he really just say that? He took the $100 bill, putting it in his pocket. "T-Thank you sir..." He whispered and continued to clean up the spilt bear off the counter.

Dave raised a brow at this SOB that had the balls to stand up to a monster like him. "I'll do what I want with my employees. If it weren't for me, that little slut would be out on the streets, dead probably. Worry about your own problems. Not the problems of a nobody whore." Dave growled.

John bit his lip, tears springing to his eyes as he looked down. Words had always hurt him more than the physical abuse. He sighed sadly and continued to clean up and get the trucker a new beer, which undeservedly had to be on the house. John wished so badly he didn't have to be here. Take this abuse and listen to people talk about him as if he were an animal, not a human being.

John quirked his brow. "Do you have any idea who the hell you're talkin' to son? I guess not cause only an idiot would mouth off to a millionaire." John pulled out his cellphone quickly calling up his secretary. "Hey Charlotte? Cancel my flight. No--no just reschedule it for Friday--no--something came up." John tucked his phone away then went back to war of words with the owner.

"Dave, you don't seem like a real business savvy man so let me put this in terms you'll understand. I'm going to run a few errands and I'll be back in a couple of hours for dinner. If this here kid..." He pointed to John. "If this here kid's still being harassed, well," he smirked fixing his tie, "well I don't wanna ruin the fun."

John grabbed his lunch and with a tip of his hat, he left the building cursing himself for fooling around this bar. He didn't really give a damn about most of the employees. In his mind, no one in their right mind should work in a place like this, but the owner rubbed him the wrong way and he didn't like it. Furthermore, even when he treated people like a dick, he rarely humiliated them in public which was exactly what Dave was doing. That kid didn't look like he'd hurt a fly let alone be stupid enough to cross a guy like Dave so John knew the abuse he was putting up with wasn't normal. But since he was pretty certain Dave was the biggest tool the world over, he knew came dinner time he'd be able to take care of Dave and possibly make things a little bit easier for the kid who served him good coffee.

Dave simply scoffed, not really believing this prissy motherfucker would do shit. He glared at John. "What did you say to that man? Because if you told him anything, i swear to god I'll make your life more of a hell than it already is, understand?!" Dave shouted at him in front of everybody.

John whimpered, flinching back. "Y... Y-Yes s-sir... I-I didn't say a-anything..." He whispered, visibly shaking in fear at the bigger man. The truckers and other patrons around him.

Dave smirked. "Good, now get back to work! Or you'll be fired, and you'll end up on the streets... were you belong." He sneered before going back to his office.

John looked down, wiping his eyes before getting back to work, desperately trying to keep up with he orders at the bar. He was the only waiter here with a bar tending license, therefore he always had to work the bar, and dance on top of all that. When dinner rolled around, it was busy, and Dave was more PO'd than usually because of the confrontation with that Layfield guy. john sighed, and dealt with his usual sexual and verbal harassment and abuse he always received from the patrons...

John spent the remainder of the day on the phone making up for business meetings he would miss due to the cancellation of his flight. By God he hated conducting business over the phone because it was hard to tell whether or not the person on the other end was yanking your chain. He always liked looking a man in the eye with a firm handshake. Usually he could sense if they were planning to screw him out of money, but he didn't really have time to think about that.

When his last call was finished, his driver took him back to Manhattan Island to the area where John lived so he could have a thorough look around. The entire neighborhood was a wreck but it was only on one side. If you cut a block from Johnny boy's apartment, there were luxurious condos a block over. He frowned. If there were luxurious condos a block over, he didn't see no reason why they couldn't fix up the apartments in this area.

He had his driver pull up to the front office so he could inquire about renting an apartment. He wasn't really planning to, but it was mainly so he could have a look around and see how much damage has been done to the buildings. John changed out of his business clothes, opting for a baseball cap, some black sweats and a sweater. Still very refined looking but not enough where people would recognize him as a millionaire CEO. He walked in the front office looking around the dingy office trying his best not to scowl too much. He was immediately greeted by an old, moussy looking black lady who was probably younger than she looked. "Excuse me sir. Can I help you?"

"Uh...yes. My name's J--Jeff. Jeff Bridges. I was wondering if you could give me a tour of the building or maybe just an empty room. I uh...I'm having some financial issues and might have to rent a room."

The lady nodded politely before scurrying about behind the desk. She handed him a key. "Room 203's empty. I don't think you wanna live here if you can help it good sir. It's not fit for living. None of these rooms are."

"If...you don't mind me asking miss, why do you run such a place if it's not fit to live in?"

She lowered her head. "Good sir, it's all I has. I inherited this place. I tried to use the money left behind by my husband to fix the place up but I had no idea he was in so much debt. I's thought maybe the city folk would help fix the place up being there's so many in need and all but..." She sighed. "I'm just an old woman now. My voice hardly matters around here."

John wrapped his palm around the key and forced a smile. "Thanks. I'll be right down in a few." John ascended the creaky stairs in search of his new room to look around. Already he was beginning to feel worse about this idea of his.