"J.T. - It's Not Easy Doing Greene, Part 8
By: Cathy and Melissa
He couldn't tell Mark the truth because...well, he simply didn't know it himself. He would have liked some simple, glib explanation to offer, but none was available: it was far more complicated. Maybe, when he worked it out himself, he'd be able to give a reasonable rationalization for returning to Roger's employ, but he put the matter from his mind for the time being.
Mark had agreed not to pressure him for reasons for the second job, and the next few days passed in a happy haze. Their schedules matched -- Carter knew that couldn't be coincidence), and Carter went to Mark's apartment each night as a matter of course. The farce of pretending to watch a game was past, but they held on to the tradition of asking names before a first kiss.
The unspoken topic weighed on both their minds. They did, however, find a way around it, and had conversations long into the nights, which seemed to touch on everything: past loves, ambitions, interests, and childhood. Their backgrounds, of course, were very different, and they marveled at how they managed to end up at the same place.
Mark realized that Carter wasn't the only one living a double life. It was becoming increasingly difficult to reconcile his relationship with Carter at home and at work. Of course he was friendly to Carter at work - he always had been - but maintaining that necessary facade of professional distance was nearly impossible for him. Carter, more adept at a masquerade, seemed to have no trouble - except when the recipient of stolen, not so chaste kisses in an exam room, in the lounge, wherever was convenient and suitably deserted.
Now that Carter could be open about having his trust fund back, he was able to issue an invitation for a short out-of-town idyll at an extremely expensive, very private hotel on a lakeshore in Wisconsin. If Mark was somewhat dubious about the location, he wisely kept his own counsel. He instead watched, amused, as Carter made elaborate plans, even including separate exits from work on Friday night.
Friday, however, brought a change of plan. The journey into work was uneventful, but Carter started acting a bit edgy towards the middle of the day. Mark couldn't know that Carter's sister had gotten herself in yet another legal scrape, necessitating his presence at a family meeting that night. Instead, when Carter reluctantly told him that they'd have to reschedule their getaway, Mark's mind immediately turned to the message that Randi had asked him to relay to Carter: Please call Roger a.s.a.p. Obviously Carter had decided to go out whoring again, Mark thought, and decided two could play his little game. He called Roger and booked J.T. for a full night - twelve hours. He intended to convince Carter once and for all that J.T. needed to cease to exist, both as an identity, and as a job.
Carter paused outside Mark's door, feeling slightly nervous. The past two weeks with Mark had been blissful, the only exception being Mark's barely disguised anger about his last-minute cancellation of their weekend. He was somewhat surprised when Roger told him about this overnight appointment, but reasoned that it probably stemmed from earlier discussions about fantasies and role-play. Mark had said earlier in the week that if he were back with J.T., he might try some new things. Roger had not been able to keep the sarcasm out of his voice though when he asked if J.T. was actually going to show this time, rather than refuse to work yet again. As if he would pass up any chance to be with Mark. Despite his nervousness, he was actually looking forward to the evening, sure that Mark had something interesting planned. He had been with other customers who wanted to have a fantasy fulfilled, or do some other kind of role-playing. It had never made him nervous though, or anxious. Somehow though, the idea that Mark wanted something like that made him feel both.
And he would be able to loll around with Mark in bed once the "paid for" sex was over and done with. Neither one of them had to worry about going to work first thing in the morning because both of their shifts didn't start until noon. He blew out a quick breath, then glanced down to check his appearance. Mark...the customer, he quickly amended, had requested he wear a cotton Oxford shirt. That was the only request. Carter had chosen a dark blue shirt and hoped it would meet with Mark's, no, with the customer's expectations. He had to remember that Mark was a customer tonight. Remember that he was J.T. and not John Carter.
His knock was quickly answered, and Mark looked happy to see him.
"Come in." Mark turned away from the door and Carter stepped into the room, quickly closing the door against the summer heat that had built up in the hallway. Mark obviously had not been home for long because the air-conditioned air wasn't as cold as it could have been.
"Are you hungry?" Mark asked.
"Excuse me?" Carter hadn't been expecting a question like that. He wasn't sure what he had been expecting, but that had not been it.
Mark laughed. "I asked if you were hungry? Would you like to eat?"
"Um, yeah, sure."
"Good. Let's go." Mark put his arm around Carter's shoulder and led him back outside and to the van.
"Where are we going?"
"I dunno yet. Any suggestions?"
Carter had to wait until Mark got into the van before he could reply. "Not really. A burger would be fine."
Mark flashed him a grin. "I think we can do better than that. How about a nice juicy steak?"
"Whatever you want," Carter automatically replied.
"I was hoping you'd say that. Steak it is."
As Mark drove out of the parking lot, Carter found himself acknowledging the fact that he was disappointed. He had been looking forward to having sex with Mark again, this time within the settings of a game. It had been difficult at work to keep from kissing Mark openly or letting anyone else know how he felt about the man. Whenever Mark innocently brushed against him, he would harden, and when Mark would ask him to come to his place, it was all he could do to fight down the urge to shout out "yes" so everyone would know they were together.
And now, now he was so close to having sex with Mark again, and Mark was taking him out to dinner. What the Hell kind of sex game involved going out to dinner? Scowling, Carter looked out the window, trying to figure out where in Chicago they were going. It looked like they were headed out of the city and into the suburbs. This was going to be a long commute, he fumed.
"Something wrong?" Mark asked. Carter swore that Mark sounded amused.
"I was just wondering where you were going?"
"I heard about a good steak place out in Prospect Heights so I figured we'd check it out."
"That's a long drive."
Mark shrugged. "Maybe. It shouldn't make any difference to you, right? After all, I've paid for twelve hours of your time. How I want to spend those twelve hours is up to me."
"That's true enough."
"Then quit pouting."
"I wasn't pouting," Carter replied.
"You were." Once again, Mark was smiling. "But, that's okay. You're kinda cute when you pout. Especially in that shirt. You should wear dark colors more often, you look really good in them."
"All you have to do is tell Roger what you want me to wear," he said.
Mark glanced over at him, a thoughtful look on his face. "I was thinking you might want to wear darker colors at work."
"I am at work."
"Carter, you know..."
"J.T."
Mark took a deep breath. Carter's insistence on this "J.T." name worried him, not for the first time: the attempt to separate his life into two halves couldn't be psychologically healthy. Mark reasoned with himself that he had, after all, hired him for the night, and that, if things progressed as planned, the alternate identity would soon be buried forever.
"Fine. J.T., you know that I'm talking about having Carter wear darker colors to the hospital."
"Do you have the authority to make him dress the way you want?"
Mark ignored that question since he knew he didn't have the authority to do just that. "Why don't you find us a different station on the radio?"
"You don't like this one?"
"Not right now."
Carter leaned forward and fiddled with the dial until he found a local Jazz station. "Is that all right?"
"It's fine."
They spent the rest of the drive just listening to the radio. When Mark pulled into the parking lot of "The Black Angus", he was glad to see that there weren't many cars there. He hadn't been entirely truthful to Carter about the place. He had heard the steaks were okay, but the service was lousy and the restaurant was in serious danger of having to close its doors for lack of business. Mark, however, wasn't planning an evening there for the quality of the food, or of the service. It was far enough from Chicago that he wouldn't run into anyone he knew and neither would Carter. With not many customers, there wouldn't be many people inside to witness the show that he was intending to put on. He had made up his mind that if Carter insisted that their relationship could only be conducted on a trick to whore basis, then he would treat Carter like a whore. He just wasn't sure if he could do that in a room full of people.
"Get out and wait for me," he told Carter as he turned off the ignition and got out. Pocketing his keys, he went around to the other side of the van. Carter was standing there, obediently waiting. Sliding his arm around Carter's waist, he led him to the entrance. As they entered the building, he let Carter go in first and he made sure that his hand lingered upon Carter's firm ass as they went from the hot summer evening to the cool interior of the restaurant.
The hostess smiled warmly at them as she asked their preference, smoking or non-smoking? Mark told her non-smoking and asked for a booth. She escorted them to a four-person booth and Carter was taken by surprise when Mark told him to scoot over and then sat beside him and not across from him. She put the menus in front of them and informed them that their waitress would be right with them. Then she made a hasty exit.
Carter started to open his menu, but Mark reached over and took the menu from him. "I'm going to order for you."
"Okay. Does this mean you're paying as well?"
"It does." Mark opened his menu and laid it flat on the table as he perused the entrees. He heard a soft gasp from Carter when he began to slowly rub his hand over Carter's thigh. This was going to be good, he thought, moving his hand even higher on that hard thigh.
"Mark, we're in a public place," Carter whispered, wondering just what Mark was up to now. Was making out in public one of his fantasies? He hoped not. He had been put on display plenty of times and it didn't bother him much anymore. But, he didn't want other people looking at Mark. Definitely not. Mark was his.
Mark looked over at him. "I know where we are, J.T.," he made sure he put a lot of emphasis on that name. "I also know that you're mine for the night and I'll do what I want, when I want."
The sound of someone clearing their throat made them realize that their waitress was waiting to take their drink orders and had most likely heard what Mark had just said.
Mark smiled up at her, "I'll have an iced tea, lemon, no sugar. He'll have a beer."
"Got it. Are you guys ready to order now?"
Mark looked down at the menu again and nodded. "We'll have the twenty-one ounce sirloin. The one for two people, but I only want one plate."
"Got it. It comes with a baked potato and salad bar, so you can just help yourselves. The plates and silverware are up there." She took the menus from Mark. "I'll be right back with your drinks." Her gaze lingered for a moment on Carter, then she walked away.
"I don't get my own plate?" Carter asked.
"Nope. I'm going to feed you off of mine. Let's go get our salad."
Mark stepped out of the booth and when Carter got out, he put his arm around his shoulder, guiding him to the salad bar. Even as Carter felt the eyes of the other diners on him, he resigned himself to the scrutiny. His thoughts about Mark's fantasy seemed to be right on the money. Still, he felt glad that there weren't many people in the place. He told himself that he only felt glad because he didn't want Mark to feel any embarrassment over the situation, but looking over at Mark's face, it seemed to Carter that Mark was enjoying himself. Well, fine then. He could play the game Mark wanted.
"What kind of dressing do you want on the salad?" Mark turned his head to look at Carter and found himself getting lost in those deep brown eyes. He knew he was shaking inside and he glanced down at his plate, expecting to see that it, too, was shaking from his nervousness. Much to his surprise, his hand was steady.
"Whatever you want me to have," Carter softly replied.
Mark ladled the dressing over the salad, then put his free hand against the small of Carter's back and led him back to their booth. Their drinks had been delivered and Mark found himself wishing he had ordered a beer after all. He needed the extra courage that alcohol would give him. But, then again, he wanted to keep his wits about him tonight so he figured he needed to stick to the tea. As he slid into the seat, he moved over until his thigh was pressed tightly against Carter's.
He cut the salad into manageable pieces, then turned in his seat so he was facing Carter. He extended the fork to him.
"What?" Carter asked, his eyes looking confused.
Mark smiled. "I told you I was going to feed you. Open your mouth."
"Mark, are you sure you..."
"As you like to point you to me so often, it's my money and I can pretty much do what I want. Open your mouth, Car...J.T."
Carter opened his mouth and Mark deftly fed him, then took his own bite. They continued that way with Mark giving Carter every other bite until only one thing remained on the plate - a cherry tomato. Mark speared it and offered it to Carter.
"I guess you get the cherry again, J.T.," Mark dryly commented.
Carter opened his mouth for the morsel, but this time Mark's aim was a little off and he hit Carter's bottom lip with the small tomato before getting it into his mouth. Carter quickly burst it with his teeth, filling his mouth with its juices.
"I got dressing on your face. Hold still." Mark reached up and slowly wiped Carter's lip with his thumb. "Lick it off," he instructed.
Carter obediently opened his mouth to stick out his tongue. But, before he could lick Mark's finger, he found that thumb in his mouth. He closed down on it tightly and began to suck on it, drawing it slowly into his mouth. Two can play at this game, he thought as a thrill ran through his body as he saw the effect this was having on Mark. Now that he knew what Mark wanted, it was so easy to play the part assigned to him. He could very easily be the whore tonight - he was used to that role.
The mood was broken though when the waitress brought the steak. Mark smoothly pulled his thumb out of Carter's mouth and eased back in his seat. "Thank you," he told her.
"You're welcome. Is everything all right so far? Can I bring you anything else?"
"I'm fine, but he needs another beer."
Carter's beer wasn't even half-gone and he wondered if Mark was trying to get him drunk. Carter was sure that if he drank too much beer he would end up losing everything in his stomach. That was how unnerved he was getting by his worry about where Mark was taking this game.
Mark was cutting the steak into bite sized pieces. "Hmm, it's juicy. Do you like a juicy steak, J.T.?"
"Of course. No one likes a dried out steak."
"That's true. I heard this place has a good steak. Time to find out. Open up."
Carter opened his mouth to accept the piece of meat. He chewed it slowly and nodded. "It is good."
Mark smiled. "Then I guess I made the right choice in coming here tonight." He ate a piece and nodded as well. "You're right. You know what? We didn't get a baked potato. We need to go up to the potato bar."
"That's okay. I really don't want one."
"Too bad. You're having one anyway. Come on."
"Do I have to go everywhere with you?" Carter impatiently asked.
Mark got out of the booth and grinned down at him. "Yep."
Carter felt his face getting hot and he cursed himself for blushing. He wanted to have more than Mark's hand on his back; he wanted his hands on Mark as well. He had been thinking about that ever since Roger called him with the assignment. But, the longer they spent here meant the he had to wait longer to get his hands on Mark Greene's body.
As if he could read his mind, Mark said, "The night is still young, J.T., and we do have all night, remember? We have plenty of time for sex after we eat. Now, come on."
When they left the restaurant, Mark headed to downtown Chicago, and not back to his apartment. Mark had hoped that by the time dinner was over, Carter would be so uncomfortable over being treated as a whore that he would be asking Mark to cancel the rest of the evening. But, Carter was still hiding behind J.T., and not letting any of it get to him. So, Mark headed downtown, going to a bar he had visited earlier in the week, the same bar where he had seen Carter with his customers. Despite the obvious displays of sexual activity that Mark had seen happening in there that night, he had gone back to talk to the manager to make sure that he could get away with what he had planned. Much to his surprise, the managers didn't bat an eye when he told him what he wanted to do. That disturbed him almost as much as Carter's insistence on being J.T. bothered him.
The bar had been a last ditch effort on Mark's part to try to convince Carter to quit. He was sure that if he took him there, treated him the same way he had treated him in the restaurant -- put him on display -- that he would be disgusted with it all and give it up. While Mark would have been happy enough for Carter to deny J.T., he wanted even more for Carter to quit working as a prostitute.
He had pulled Carter out to the dance floor, steeling himself as he prepared to give the other patrons quite a show. And so they danced together, just as they had several times before, but the fact that it was in public was an incredible turn on. Mark had to force himself to remember the reason he was there -- not for enjoyment, but to convince Carter to give up this farce. He'd seen the wild goings on elsewhere in the club -- it was obvious why his plans had not bothered the manager -- and considered ordering J.T. to suck him there and then. Just as he was getting ready to order him to his knees, he heard a guy call out to Carter, greeting him by "J.T." So...he had been here before. There were people here that Carter knew. Forcing Carter to his knees in front of them suddenly became more than he could imagine, and the two men headed to Mark's apartment. There, Mark could do what he needed to without the public embarrassment.
"So, have you been a whore for long?" If Mark expected Carter to flinch at the question, he was disappointed. Carter was still J.T.;still in that protective shell. To reach Carter, Mark would have to break through that -- he would have to break J.T.
"A few months." J.T.'s face was expressionless. He'd been asked this question before - recently, in fact. Mark acted as if he had not known the answer, though. He merely nodded, and was quiet as he left to get a drink. J.T. was usually glad when customers didn't want to make small talk, but Mark was usually different. Mark had wanted to talk, even during that first appointment. Asking him all kinds of questions about why he was working like this. He had been flippant and told him that he liked to have sex with strangers and thought he might as well earn some money while he was doing it. Mark had looked shocked, but he quickly disguised it. He'd been with Mark recently, but he felt himself harden slightly as he remembered how Mark felt under him. He also couldn't forget how good it felt to feel the heat of Mark's body against his back as Mark made love to him and he wondered if Mark would try to fuck him tonight as J.T., even though he knew that J.T. didn't do that. He wanted him to. Hell, he was counting on it.
Mark returned, with a drink in each hand. "Drink this," he said. Carter reflected that he hadn't been asked what he wanted, but then Mark wasn't paying to cater to what J.T. wanted, was he? He took a sip, surprised to find that it was whiskey. He hadn't seen the label, but the taste told him that it was an expensive brand. That surprised him. Mark usually only had beer to drink. At least that's all he ever offered him when he was here as Carter. He smiled to himself as he followed Mark into the darkened bedroom.
Mark shed his clothes quickly and stood before Carter. He demanded J.T. to undress, then looked him over derisively. "You'll do, I guess. Okay, whore, I want you to suck me and make me come."
Carter had customers call him "whore" before, but didn't expect it from Mark, somehow, even as a part of a role-playing game. He steeled himself, reminding himself that this was just a game. He had been about to forget that -- as he usually forgot things when he was with Mark. If he was the whore, then Mark was just another trick, and he had to treat him that way. He prepared to take Mark's penis in his mouth, but Mark stopped him with a rough hand on his shoulder.
"No, I don't want a whore's mouth on my cock. Use this." He tossed at condom at him and watched carefully as he unrolled it. If this treatment was affecting him at all, he wasn't showing it. His eyes were as bland and expressionless as they were that first night together, and the way he had been that night when Mark had seen him out with his customers. His erection flagged under the stress of the distraction of his thoughts, and Carter -- no, Mark corrected himself, he had to keep in mind that this was J.T., at least until he broke him -- J.T. stopped and looked up at him. "Maybe you...", he started, but Mark cut him off.
"I didn't pay you to talk to me, whore. Just to keep my cock in your mouth and to be quiet." Carter flinched, and Mark knew he was getting through. It wasn't enough, though, and he realized he had to push the envelope. "I suppose you were going to suggest that we get on the bed, right?" Mark said with as much sarcasm as he could muster. When Carter nodded, Mark said, "Well, I don't have dirty whores in my bed. And that's all you are, you know - a dirty whore." He tossed his clothes at him, and said, "On second thought, why don't you get dressed and get out. You're not what I want."
He let out a deep breath, and forced himself to look. Sure enough, it wasn't J.T. anymore in those eyes, it was Carter. Where they'd been cool and detached, they were now hurt. God, how Mark hated being the cause of that, but he told himself that it was necessary. He knelt beside the chair where Carter had gone to sit.
"Carter, look at me. Look at me. I was trying to make a point. You can't keep letting men treat you like this. You deserve better." You deserve me, he added mentally. "Please. It's true that I don't want J.T., but I do want Carter."
Carter shook his head as he clasped his clothing tightly against his body, trying to cover himself. He suddenly felt ashamed of being naked in front of Mark. This wasn't going the way he had thought it would. Mark seemed too serious for this to be a game. Way too serious. Which meant, then, that this wasn't a game to Mark. None of it had been a game to him. "You paid for a full night. But, not for Carter -- you paid for J.T."
Mark sighed. What would it take to get through to him? "I wanted to show you, to prove to you, that you didn't really like being treated as if you were an object to be used and discarded the moment the time was up."
Carter closed his eyes as he listened to Mark. Little did Mark realize it, but what he was talking about was part of the reason he had been doing the job. He wanted to be used and tossed aside. Humiliated. Sometimes even mistreated. But, not by Mark.
He felt Mark's hand rest on his knee, it felt warm and inviting. "I would like very much to have Carter stay the night with me."
"Not J.T.?"
"No. I'm done with J.T."
Carter nodded and opened his eyes. Mark could see that J.T. was back and he knew that he had lost. "Then I guess I had better go. I'm sorry that you felt you had to throw your money away like this." He relaxed the hold on his clothing, not caring for modesty anymore. "If you're sure you don't want me, then I'll just get dressed and go."
Carter reached out to caress Mark's shoulder, hoping that the physical contact would make him change his mind. But, Mark grabbed his wrist and held his arm at bay. "Yes, I'm sure." Mark let go of his wrist, then grabbed a pair of sweat pants, and walked out to the living room, leaving Carter alone. Once out of the bedroom, he pulled the pants on, then stood at the window, staring out at nothing in particular, mainly just counting down the seconds until Carter left. If he left. He still had some small hope that Carter would not get dressed and leave.
His hope was shattered though when he heard footsteps in the kitchen. In the window's reflection, he could see Carter head for the door. Carter paused then, his hand on the doorknob. Not able to resist the impulse to turn around to take a last look at Mark. He stared at him for a long time, then realized that Mark was looking at him. Their eyes met in the reflective glass and Carter knew right then that if Mark asked him again to stay, that he would.
But, Mark didn't ask. He didn't say or do anything. No nod, no shaking of the head. Not even a frown. Just nothing. He had acted as if he cared, talked as if he cared, but when it came to it, he didn't really care, Carter thought. He wanted the same thing as every other customer -- his own way. Turning, he opened the door and walked out, pulling the door shut behind him. He would have to tell Roger that he had been kicked out by his customer. He didn't know what the company policy was on that. Would Roger have to refund Mark's -- the customer's -- money? And if he did, would Roger then take it out of J.T.'s money? It wasn't his fault that he had been kicked out -- thrown out -- discarded. Roger just might be understanding about it all, but he wouldn't know until he talked to the man. So, he headed for the apartment.
Thirty minutes later, Mark was dialing Carter's number. He had to apologize to him. He just couldn't treat him that way and then act as if nothing had happened, could he? "Come on, Carter, pick up. Don't let it go to the machine," he said out loud.
"Hello?" a sleepy voice asked. A sleepy female voice.
"Kerry, I'm sorry I woke you up. Is Carter there?"
"Mark?" He could hear her moving around, probably putting on her glasses. "Why are you calling at this ungodly hour?"
"I need to talk to Carter. Is he there?"
"No. He told me that he had a date tonight and wouldn't be home at all."
"Would you please check his room?"
There was a long pause, then he heard her sigh heavily. "It'll take me a while. I'm all the way upstairs."
"I really appreciate this, Kerry. I wouldn't ask if it wasn't important."
"I know." He heard her put the phone down and then the sound of her crutch as she walked across the floor. He felt guilty for waking her up and making her walk downstairs, but he just couldn't go to sleep knowing that he had hurt Carter and not apologized for his actions. After what felt to him to be an eternity, but was only ten minutes, Kerry was back on the line.
"He's not there, Mark. I would have thought that he might have told you who he was going to be with tonight. The two of you have gotten quite close lately."
"No, he didn't mention any names. Kerry, thanks for checking. I'll just have to wait until tomorrow to talk to him." If he'll talk to me at all by then, he thought.
"No problem. Good night, Mark."
After Kerry hung up, Mark slammed the phone down. Oh, he knew all too well why Carter wasn't home. He had obviously gone back to his pimp and gotten another assignment. Why couldn't he see what he was doing to himself by working like this? Realizing he was about to throw his phone across the room, Mark took a deep breath and set the phone down. There was no reason for him to destroy his own property just because he was jealous of the idea of Carter taking another man's cock into his mouth. Dear God, the way he had treated Carter tonight, what if he decided that he tell Roger that he had been with a man? That he was willing to be fucked by his customers? That thought sickened him. He had wanted so much to be Carter's first, just as Carter had been his, and now he found that the idea of Carter being with another man unthinkable and maddening. Feeling dizzy with anger and tension, Mark sat down on the couch and bent over, putting his head between his legs and forcing himself to take deep breaths.
"Please don't do anything stupid," he said out loud, but there was no one there to hear him. Carter should be here with him and not out there on his knees in front of some other guy. Acting like a whore. He sat there in the darkened room, imaging Carter in various encounters and feeling even more disgusted and angry with him.
When the phone rang, Mark practically pounced on it. "Hello?"
"This is Roger. I'd like to speak with J.T., please."
"Roger?" Mark looked at his watch. It had now been almost an hour since Carter had left. If he had gone back to see Roger for another assignment, then why was Roger calling here wanting to talk to him?
"Roger from Companions, Inc. I would like to speak with J.T. Please put him on the line."
"I can't do that."
"There had better a damn good reason for that, Mark." Roger sounded angry. "I insist on talking to him."
"He's not here. He left about an hour ago."
"He left? You paid for him to be there all night. Why would he leave? J.T. has never walked out on a customer. What did you do to him?" Roger was definitely angry, Mark thought.
"I kicked him out. I figured he would have gone straight back to you to let you know." And to get another assignment. Mark suddenly grinned as he realized that Carter had not done that. He wasn't out there in a hotel room with a stranger.
"You made him leave? Why?"
"I changed my mind. Is that a crime?"
"No. Just don't be thinking that you're getting your money back. I'll refund if one of the guys messes up, but if you wanted him to leave because you changed your mind, then you're just out the money."
"Fine, whatever. I don't care about getting a refund. He should be there soon, right?"
"Why do you care? You kicked him out."
"I was just thinking that it might have taken him an hour to get back to the apartment."
"Not from where you live," Roger snapped. "But, like I said, you kicked him out. What happens to J.T. after that is not your concern, it's mine."
Mark then heard a dial tone. So, the company apartment wasn't all that far from his place and Roger was definitely worried about the fact that J.T. -- Carter -- had not returned by now. Mark's happiness at knowing that Carter had not gone on to another customer was now chased away by his worry for him. Where had he gone? He wasn't home, he didn't go back to see his pimp, he wasn't here. Where could he have gone?
Mark could still see the hurt look in Carter's eyes and he wondered if that pain would make Carter do something rash. Would he feel so badly about himself that he would try to work the streets? It had to be way too late for men to be out there cruising for sex, right? The only men who would be out there at two in the morning would be men desperate for sex -- men who probably wouldn't care that Carter didn't let customers fuck him. Men who would -- Mark shut his eyes tight against the image that sprang to mind of his Carter being raped by a trick. No. That wasn't going to happen. It couldn't happen. He would find him first.
Mark hurried dressed in his regular clothes, grabbed his house keys and headed outside. Maybe Carter had wanted to think and was simply sitting on a bench at the El station? Mark headed there, but upon arrival he found the place deserted. It was one of the stations that closed at one in the morning and wouldn't be open again until five. He should have remembered that. If Carter was counting on taking the El to get home or to Roger, then he wouldn't have been able to use this station.
Back on the street, Mark looked in every direction, trying to decide if Carter would have headed for a different station, hailed a cab, or if he'd just given up and went to a bar to get drunk. There were just too many choices. Too many directions that Carter could have gone. And he was only one man. One man who had hurt the person he loved - hurt him so badly that there was no telling what Carter might do. Realizing that he couldn't comb the entire city of Chicago in search of Carter, Mark headed home. Maybe Carter would call him, no matter where he ended up. Just please, please let him end up somewhere safe, he prayed. Please?