A/N: Welcome to my next story. First all, I own nothing but the plot and a few OC'S that might pop up from time to time. All the other characters either belong to Vince McMahon and the WWE or to themselves. The only profit I hope to make is knowing my readers enjoy the story. This is a M/M slash story, and is MPREG...yes, I know boys can't have babies, but in this story they can. Also, I may change ages, and known habits of some characters. Some may smoke when we know in real life they don't or vice verse. It is called fiction. Also, in this story there will be an extraordinary amount of references to "eyes", but, that is what this story is about, the eyes being the mirrors of not only our souls but our lives as well. There will be a few "squicky" parts, but this is a story for adults. Also, I do not write smut scenes just for the sake of them. When I write such a scene, it is for meaning. Anyway, enough of this... time to get on with the story, I really hope you enjoy it, it carried me through some very dark times. My spouse passed away while I was writing it... and writing saved me. Thank you, enjoy, and please, a word or two of review is always welcome... but I don't hold stories "hostage" for reviews, that's bad. All the best, Lady Dragonsblood.
THE EYES IN THE MIRROR
The pretty blond sighed deeply. He had done the one thing he hated more than anything, he'd caught his reflection in the mirror. He hated the face that stared back at him.
His shoulder length, dirty blond hair was horribly mussed. It looked like he'd been riding a roller coaster, that had turned him upside down and sideways. The eye makeup he wore was smudged and black flecks of mascara littered his cheeks. He hated the makeup, he was a man for fucks sake. Why other men liked him wearing it was beyond him, but he did it, because he had to.
The hazel eyes that stared back, once held the fire and spark of the hopefulness of youth. Now they reflected bitterness, disdain and hopelessness; of a life without love or even much kindness. They were the eyes of a high priced prostitute named Adam Copeland.
The hazel eyes closed as his mind flashed back, reminding Adam of how he got to where he now stood...
Adam had grown up in the small town of Orangeville, Ontario, Canada. He had been raised by his mother, Judy. He never knew his father. When Judy had told her husband she was pregnant, he vanished, unable to handle being a father, or so the note said. Judy divorced him, took back her maiden name and that was that.
When Adam was twelve, Judy got an offer to take a job in Chicago. A high powered lawyer hired her as his executive secretary.
Adam was happy. He enjoyed his new life in America so much, he and Judy became legal citizens. Adam loved learning and even more so when he got to high school. He made good grades and kept his head down. He was a loner, by choice.
One morning, Adam was called to the Principals Office. As he sat and waited, he knew something was wrong. The secretary kept looking at him like she was going to cry.
The Principal called Adam into his office. When the young boy was seated, the older man sighed. With a soft voice he told the fifteen year old that his mother had just been shot and killed.
Judy and her boss had gone to the Court House. It was unusual for Judy to attend a trial, but the lawyer knew she would take good notes. The case was extremely high profile and the lawyer wanted things done right, and for that, he needed Judy by his side.
The criminal on trial went insane. He over powered the guard, grabbed his gun and started shooting. The lawyer, Judy and two members of the jury were instantly killed. The Judge and six others were badly wounded, and the guard also later died at the hospital. The criminal was the last victim as he blew his own brains out when he realized what he'd done.
Adam was in shock, to make matters worse, the day was October 30th, his birthday. That night his mother was going to take him out to dinner, then to ice skate. This was not the way he'd planned on starting his fifteenth year of life.
The Principal knew Adam was now alone in the world. He couldn't find any living relatives in Adam's records. When the Principal told Adam he'd have to call the Child Protective Services, Adam got up, walked out of the school and vanished into the streets of Chicago.
The Principal never saw the blond boy again. Something that would haunt him the rest of his life.
From behind a tree, Adam watched as a few workers from the city lowered his mother's casket into the ground. Thanks to the family of the lawyer, she was buried in a lovely section in a nice cemetery that would be well cared for. If not she would have been placed in section of the cemetery where unclaimed bodies lay cold and unremembered. A simple metal marker told who she was and when she entered and left the world.
When everyone had gone, Adam came out from behind the tree. He held a tired looking handful of flowers. Adam had tried to pick some from a nice garden, but a huge, mean dog guarded the yard, so he didn't even try He managed to pick a few flowers here and there as he made his way to the cemetery.
Adam knelt down next to the freshly covered grave. He cried for the first time since he'd heard the horrible news. Judy was the only one who had loved him, no matter what. In return, Adam had loved, adored and respected his mother more than any other person on earth.
Judy Copeland was Adam's heroine. She had worked two jobs, more than once when they lived in Canada. They had both been thrilled when the job offer had come from Chicago. Now Adam wished he'd never heard of Flair and Associates.
Adam dried his eyes and laid the pitiful bouquet of flowers on the grave. He promised that some day, she would have the most beautiful headstone in the entire cemetery. He scooped up a handful of dirt. He placed it in an empty baby food jar he'd found and cleaned in a puddle at a car wash. He put the jar in his backpack and went to find what he could to eat and make a shelter for the night.
When Adam had runaway from the school, he'd first gone home, to their apartment. He quickly filled his backpack with clothes, a blanket, all the canned food he could carry, a bar of soap, towel, wash cloth, and his tooth and hair brushes. He grabbed his leather coat and left the only home he had.
On the way out of the apartment building, he stopped and left a note for the landlord. He told the man to sell what he could to pay for any expenses. He promised to some day repay him if wasn't enough. Adam slipped the note under the man's door and left for his new life of living on the streets.
Over time, the blond learned how to survive. He'd met another kid, who had also been orphaned when his parents were killed in a car crash John Cena became Adam's best friend and confidant.
Adam and John lived in a cardboard "house" under a bridge with several other homeless people. There was the once middle class family who'd lost everything when the father lost his job when the factory he'd worked at for twenty years closed. Then there was the old man who'd been born to the homeless world. The crazy bag lady who treated the children in the homeless "community" like grandchildren, and there were four single men who seemed to hate the world in general. They all looked after each other. They shared food and clothes. It was a real community, almost a family.
When churches and other "do gooders" would come around with food, clothes and blankets, Adam and John always hid with the three other underage children. They knew if they were seen, they would be taken away.
John had told Adam the "system" was horrible. Most foster families only wanted the money from the State, and free child labor. The group homes meant a life of torture from the older kids, usually sexual in nature.
John had runaway from his last foster home. He met Adam, and they became instant friends, for life.
Things changed for the worse, when one day, the police, hell bent to "clean up" the city, came around and destroyed their "houses" under the bridge. Old man Jones told them about it that night. Luckily, John and Adam had been out looking for food at the time.
The family with the three children had had enough, and decided to enter the "system". They begged John and Adam to come with them, but the two boys refused. So once again, Adam and John were on their own.
Life got harder and harder. John was the first one to go down on his knees for money, Adam soon followed.
They both learned that cocks were like snowflakes, no two were ever the same. Cocks came in all sizes, shapes and colors. Some tasted good, most were horrible. Some were circumcised, some weren't. One thing all cocks had in common; money. Money meant food and food meant life.
John was the first to lay on his back, once again, Adam followed. Tears fell from the hazel eyes as he virginity was ripped from his soul, by a total stranger, for twenty bucks.
They learned, by watching other boys, to stay away from working for a pimp. You got very little money, and a lot of abuse. Several pimps tried to get them both.
John and Adam had the kind of looks most "johns" wanted. Cena had a cute face with killer dimples when he smiled, plus a hard, muscular body. Adam was pretty with a sweet smile and a long, lithe body with probably the best legs in Chicago.
Eventually John and Adam met another boy in the same situation. An Irish lad, named Sheamus. Together, the three of them managed to scrape up enough money to rent a kitchenette room with two single beds and a couch. It was shabby and run down, but it was clean and got them off the street.
Sheamus also did deals on the side with drugs. He often traded his body for a score, which he would turn around and sell. It made a lot more money, but was dangerous. Prostitution was illegal, but the cops usually just ignored them, until drugs were involved.
The down fall started for the three boys when Sheamus couldn't sell the cocaine he'd fucked for earlier in the day. The cops were hot on the streets that evening. So, curiosity got the better of them. Sheamus, John and Adam started sniffing the white powder. The drug quickly claimed three new victims.
They became more and more addicted to the rush the cocaine gave them. It also made turning tricks a lot easier. It brought them out of their shells, and they were wilder with their sexual acts. That meant the "johns" paid more, which meant the trio could buy more drugs. It was a cruel and vicious cycle which dragged them further and further away from their true selves.
Adam, John and Sheamus were ruled by three things, money, cocaine and sex. The only time they were sober was when they were out of coke, which wasn't often. Adam was dangerously thin, Sheamus was even paler than usual and John was losing his hard body.
Of the three, Adam was the most responsible, if you could call it that. He kept the roof over their heads. He had an arrangement with the landlord. Adam gave him a blow job every day and let the man fuck him three times a week. It was a good thing Adam was so talented.
One night, their lives changed forever. Sheamus had made a score from a new dealer. When he brought home the bag of white powder, trouble followed. It was the best quality cocaine they'd ever had.
Sheamus poured it out onto the mirror they always used to divvy up their shares. He then took a razor blade and cut it several times. The process made the powder much easier to snort. There was enough for two long lines each, and still have plenty to sell.
What Adam and Sheamus didn't know, was that John had gone out earlier and made his own score with their usual dealer, Matt Morgan. John had already snorted twice what was normal. His blood pressure was making his head hurt. Unaware of what was causing his headache, John quickly snorted the freshly cut, better quality drug.
Adam and Sheamus were less greedy. They intended to make their shares last though the night. The three friends sniffed a line then leaned back on the shabby couch and waited for the high to kick in.
When Sheamus and Adam were pleasantly buzzing, they left John on the couch and went to make their money for the evening. Sheamus went to their usual corner in front of their building. Adam knocked on the door of the landlord. It was time for the daily rent blow.
The landlord, Eric Bischoff, let Adam in. This was the highlight of his day. To the older man, Adam had the hottest and prettiest mouth in Chicago. Adam went in and waited for the landlord to get ready, Adam always insisted that Eric wear a condom.
Adam knelt on the floor, his head bobbing up and down on the landlord's shaft. As Eric's fingers curled in the long blond hair, they heard a tremendous crash from the apartment overhead
The apartment where the noise had come from was Adam's. Both Eric and the blond looked up at the ceiling. It was quiet, too quiet after such a noise.
Adam knew he had to check on his friend. Eric, in a moment of kindness, agreed. He told Adam to come back later and finish what he'd started. With a nod of agreement, Adam left. He saw Sheamus leaning against the lamp post out front. He went to the lobby door and called the Irishman in. Adam explained what he'd heard as they went up the stairs to their second floor apartment.
When they got to their apartment, Adam cautiously opened the door. He immediately saw what had caused the terrible crash. The one piece of good furniture the apartment had was a large oak book case. It had fallen over.
Adam saw John first, he immediately knew his friend was dead. John's eyes were frozen open, a look of fear was in them, trickles of blood flowed from his mouth and from his nose, it stained his cheek.
Sheamus found the empty cocaine bag. John had finished off the rest of the score. They had no choice but to call an ambulance. They quickly removed any trace of drug use. Everything went into Adam's back pack.
Adam bid good bye to his friend of almost six years. It was the second hardest good bye of his life. He vowed then and there he would never use drugs again, he didn't want to end up dead as well.
Sheamus looked at Adam. The blond also knew he would never see the Irishman again. With a nod, Sheamus left and walked out of Adam's life. Sheamus had been talking about moving on, so this was the time. It was the way of street life. The lasting friendship Adam had with John was extremely rare.
Adam went to Eric's apartment. The landlord hid the blond in return for sex. Adam agreed. He knew Eric would keep the police away.
The blond later found out, from Eric, that John's heart had exploded. Tachycardia due to cocaine overdose, was the official cause of death. The drug was not the friend it pretended to be. Adam knew he had a long battle ahead to escape it's grasp.
Adam remained in the apartment alone. The one thing about kicking the cocaine habit was that the physical withdrawals weren't dangerous. However, there was a price to pay.
The blond went through long periods of insomnia, and when he did manage to sleep, it was interrupted by vivid and unpleasant nightmares. He was often angry and agitated. His appetite increased, but his financial situation didn't, so he was often extremely hungry.
Slowly but surely Adam's craving for the white powder went away. The nightmares stayed, mostly filled with the memory of John's lifeless eyes, eyes that had once danced with laughter. Over time, the dreams lessened in their frequency, but thunder storms would set them off again. Eventually, Adam's life returned to what he knew as normal.
Eric still took Adam's rent in trade, he wasn't about to give up the great sex. In his way, he had a soft spot for the blond so he made sure Adam at least kept a roof over his pretty head.
One night, Adam was "working" in the dive, gay bar, several blocks from the apartment. John Laurinaitis owned the "Pink Cigar". Johnny Ace, as Laurinaitis was know, let a few of the prettier boys turn tricks in the bar. He charged them ten percent of what ever they made.
It was better than having a pimp. It was more like renting one of the back rooms and giving Ace a cut for payment. If you made money fine, if you didn't fine, unlike a pimp, Johnny Ace didn't beat you up if you had an off night.
One night changed Adam's life forever, mostly for the better. At least better for a prostitute. It was the night he met Chris Jericho.
Adam sat at the bar and sipped a beer. It was the one thing that washed the taste of sex away. Even though his "clients" wore a condom, the man's taste would often cross his tongue. It was proof that taste was related to smell.
Adam certainly noticed when the older, tawnier blond sat next to him. Adam recalled the conversation like it was yesterday.
"Gray Goose, neat". Chris placed his order. He only drank, ate, and wore the best.
Adam turned to the voice that came from the man next to him, it was a Canadian voice. It was something Adam hadn't heard in a long time.
The prostitute put on his prettiest smile, this guy looked well off, maybe he could make some good money. "Manitoba?" Adam asked in a soft, sultry voice. He leaned closer to the older man.
Chris turned to the man next to him. Jericho smiled, he could spot a street rat a mile away. Normally he had nothing to do with them, but this one was pretty, and he was neat and clean. The clothes were worn, but they too were clean. The blond smelled faintly of vanilla wildflowers.
"Yeah, Winnipeg. You from Canada too?" Chris asked, his voice light and flirty. This one had potential. The lithe blond could bring a high price; with a little training.
"Toronto, well, small town north of Toronto; Orangeville. Left when I was twelve. I'd like to go back, someday." Adam replied with a wink. He ran his graceful fingers lightly over the man's arm. This could be his night's meal, plus a bit extra if he played his cards right.
"Maybe you can go back someday. You are a pretty one, aren't you. I should come here more often. So, you have a pimp?" Chris cut right to the chase. No point in wasting time with someone's property.
Adam worked himself to blush a bit. "No, I don't. I'm... shall we say... independent. Don't want to hand over everything to a jerk. Know what I mean? So um... I'm Adam. You're very handsome." Adam kept up the heavy flirting. There was something about this man Adam really liked.
"Yeah, I know. Saves some wear and tear on the pretty face, I know street pimps and their affinity for hitting. I'm Chris. Let's cut to the chase. I assume you have an "office" here?" Chris asked as he made finger quotes, his brow raised.
"Yeah, come on. Ace, I'm taking number three." Adam said to the owner of the bar. Johnny Ace nodded. He made a note on a piece of paper next to the cash register. Adam was one of the few he trusted.
Adam took Chris by the arm and led him to the back of the bar, through a set of old fashioned, western saloon type swinging doors. Johnny Ace had four rooms for the hookers to "rent". It was a good system and safe for the prostitutes. Johnny even hired a guard to keep an eye on things.
A huge black man, named Mark Henry sat on a stool by the swinging doors. He was paid from the money Johnny Ace collected from his percentage. The hookers often tipped Mark privately. It helped to make sure they were always safe. Adam was one of Mark's "pets". Adam always tipped him even if he was never needed.
"Hey Mark, I'm going to number three. This is Chris, he's okay." Adam said quietly to the huge man. His hand still on Chris' arm.
"Okay, Blondie. Holler if ya needs me. Yore the only one here right now, slow night" Mark spoke with a Texas drawl as he reached up to get the key. The keys to the four rooms hung on a board next to where he sat. He replaced the key with a small cardboard circle with an "A" on it.
Chris noticed that the huge guard was staring him down. Jericho wasn't easily intimidated, he was used to things like that. Jericho was actually glad Johnny Ace cared enough to even have a guard.
Adam took the key and led Chris down the darkened hallway, to a room with a small number three painted on the door.
The room was dank, but neat and clean. There was a full sized bed and a shabby but sturdy leather chair. There were a few hooks on the wall to hang clothes on. Behind a cheap Chinese style screen was a vanity sink and toilet.
Adam started to remove his clothes, he opened the buttons of his shirt. As the shirt fell open, Adam's well toned, lightly bronzed young body was revealed. "Fifty on my knees, hundred on my back, and if you want to be fucked, it's three hundred." Adam said flatly as he pulled off his shirt.
"So, you don't like to do the fucking?" Chris asked in an amused tone. He'd sat down in the leather chair to watch Adam strip.
For one of the few times in his life, a true blush dusted Adam's cheeks. "No, I don't. It... just... doesn't feel right... but I'll do it. So, what do you want, handsome?" Adam asked as his jeans fell in a pool around his ankles, leaving him in a tight, royal blue thong.
Chris was nearly speechless, he'd never seen such a beautiful pair of legs on a man or a woman for that matter. He watched as Adam neatly hung his shirt and jeans on a couple of the wall hooks.
"Nice legs, pretty boy. Come here." Chris said with a growl as he pulled the hooker into his lap.
Adam was a bit surprised, most clients just wanted to get right down to business. There was something about Chris that was different. Maybe he was cop, but he really didn't think so, besides, prostitution wasn't that illegal.
Chris could see the confusion in Adam's eyes, he laughed softly. "I ain't the law, but I do have a proposition for you. How about a roof over your head, a roof that's fit for a king. Three hot mealy a day, if you want, and with your body, men who would pay a premium to have you. I want you to come work for me. I'm starting my own house, and only the best will be part of it. I've actually been watching you for a while now. I know all about you. Including your mom's murder, and the death of your friend. The fact that you beat your addiction to cocaine. I want you." Chris's tone turned from soft and flirty to one of serious business.
So that was how, at age nearly twenty two, Adam went to work at the House of Jericho. It was the best house of prostitution in Chicago. Chris only dealt with men who were high class and had huge bank accounts.
He also only employed the prettiest boys he could find. Adam had been his first, and that put a high standard on the others Chris hired.
Now, Adam was twenty five years old and the top raking whore in Chris's stable of eight, high class prostitutes.
Adam was the eldest, the rest followed. Justin Gabriel was twenty four, Drew McIntyre and Cody Rhodes were twenty three, Dolph Ziggler and Heath Slater were twenty two and John Morrison and Evan Bourne were the youngest at twenty one and nineteen.
Chris Jericho, who was thirty five, handled the day to day business. He went in search of rich clients and was always on the lookout for pretty, young boys.
Jericho took good care of his stable. They had regular medical and dental checkups, good food, nice clothes and most all, he made sure they were safe at all times. No one was allowed to leave the house without safety protocol in place.
Chris left the general, daily care of his boys to an Englishman named Wade Barrett. Wade was the one that kept the stable in line, and made sure they were protected. Wade could also deal out harsh punishments if one of the boys stepped out of line. Breaking safety protocol or refusing a clients request were the biggest infractions. Barrett was hard around the edges, but for the most part, he was kind and fair. It took a lot to make him angry, but when he was, it was then he could be harsh.
All in all, for what it was, The House of Jericho was a good place. It sure beat walking the streets, wondering where your next meal and sleeping place were coming from.
Adam had taken on the role of big brother to the rest of the boys. They looked to him for help and advice, ranging from what to wear to how to give a great blow job. The others loved and respected Adam, and he returned the feeling, to the point that he often took a punishment for someone else's mistake, without anyone even being aware of what the blond had done for them.
Last night, before he left to be with a client, Adam met the newest boy Chris had found. His name was Seth. The boy tried to look hard, but Adam knew better, he could tell the kid was scared and broken. Adam would be there for him, just like he was for the others.
Back in the present, the hazel eyes opened again and looked away from the mirror. Adam could hear his client stirring in the bedroom. It was rare for Adam to spend the night, but the client had paid a high price for the privilege. Adam was paid for until noon, when Wade would come and pick him up.
Adam snapped himself back to reality. He quickly brushed his teeth, washed his face and brushed his hair back into submission. He finished just as he heard the client call for him.
Bret Hart was lying in his king sized bed. He was in Chicago for a week of business. He was also Chris' best and most important client, he paid more than anyone.
Hart had a Royal Suite on the forty-sixth floor of The Four Seasons Hotel, Chicago. He had a magnificent view of Chicago and Lake Michigan. Bret had ordered breakfast from room service.
"Baby, I ordered breakfast." Bret called out to the man in his bathroom. He was fully aware of who Adam was and what he did, but he wanted the blond. Hart had offered Chris a shit load of money for Adam, but Jericho refused to "sell" his best whore.
Adam sighed, he really liked Bret, he loved it when Hart was in town or, at least, he used to. Lately, Bret was treating him more and more like a boyfriend than a whore, and he didn't know how he felt about it. Falling love only lead to heartbreak and Adan didn't want anything more to do with broken hearts.
The beautiful blond came out of the bathroom. He was wrapped in the robe the hotel provided for their clients. "Good, I'm starving. So, what are we doing today? You have me till noon, it's only seven." Adam asked as he crossed the room, climbed onto the bed and sat cross-legged.
"I thought we'd just go out and do some window shopping. I tried to book you for the entire day, but Barrett said you have an appointment tonight. I have you for the rest of the week after that. We'll do something fun then." Bret explained as he caressed Adam's cheek softly.
"I'm sorry, but yes. I have to escort Mister Heyman tonight, some kind of business dinner. He needs a pretty man on his arm, he picked me from the book. I'm looking forward to the rest of the week with you. How is the paper doing?" Adam asked, hoping he sounded interested. The blond always tried to care about what his clients did. At least Bret did something interesting, he was the head of a huge media company in Calgary, Alberta, Canada.
"It's alright. I never knew how much people actually like those gossip rags. It sells more copies than the Calgary Herald." Bret expounded with a sneer. His company had just acquired a gossip newspaper, their first. Hart hadn't been to sure about it, he wanted only the best and most respectful media companies under his umbrella.
"It's an outlet. Sometimes the real news is just... too much. It's fun to read about celebrities and gossip." Adam said with a shrug. Sometimes Bret was too serious and uptight.
Bret smiled. "You're so clever, my pet. I never realized that, it does make sense. I wish... oh well. That must be breakfast!" Bret exclaimed as he slipped out of the bed to answer the door. He was dressed in sleek, black silk pajamas.
Adam wrapped the robe tighter and tied the belt. He went over to the dining table and sat down. He was truly hungry, Bret had used him well last night.
Bret led the waiter into the room. He went to the table where Adam waited. The waiter could tell Adam was a call boy. He sneered at the blond, he felt Adam's kind didn't belong in his hotel.
Bret didn't noticed the expression on the waiter's face, but Adam did. Normally he didn't care, but for some reason, today, he did. Adam wasn't stupid, he knew he was a whore, but most of the time he didn't feel like one. Again, today he did, he felt... broken and dirty. He bit back a tear, and Adam never cried; ever.
Bret tipped the waiter and showed him out. He returned to the table, he noticed Adam was only picking at his food. He then saw the wetness on the blond's cheek. Adam had been unable to stop the lone tear that fell.
Hart reached over and gently lifted Adam's chin with his fingertips. "Baby? What's wrong?" His voice was filled with concern.
Adam smiled and pushed down his hurt feelings. "I'm fine. This looks delicious, I love pancakes." He lied through his teeth.
"Bullshit. Now talk to me, pet. You know how I feel about you. Have I done something?" Hart asked softly, but firmly. He knew Adam was good at hiding his feelings.
Adam sighed, Bret could always pull the truth from him. "The waiter... he looked at me like I was... lower than shit. Like, I was too dirty for his hotel. He... made me feel like a… whore. I know what I am... he... I... am dirty and broken. I... am.. a whore." The hazel eyes were bright with tears.
Bret growled, he reached over and picked up the phone. He called the manager that was on duty in the hotel. By the time Hart was finished, the waiter had been fired, and Bret had free meals, three times a day for the duration of his stay. Adam was shocked.
"Now, that's taken care of. Adam, you're not broken and dirty. You did what you had to do to survive. I admire that. Instead of just... giving up, you pulled your life together. You beat drugs, you are a good person. Don't let someone like that jealous bastard bring you down. You are a worthwhile human being. Now, eat your breakfast and I'll take you shopping. Bret spoke honestly and directly. He also had deep affection in his eyes.
Adam smiled, Bret always made him feel better. Bret had never once made him fell cheap or dirty. It was part of why he liked Hart so much.
Adam leaned over and kissed Bret chastely on the cheek. "Thank you. I'm not sure about all of that, but I appreciate what you did. You're a good man, Bret." The blond spoke with an honest, soft smile.
The two men forgot about all the nastiness of the morning. They chatted casually as they ate their breakfast. It was more like they were an old married couple. They were comfortable together.
Later, Bret and Adam walked down the streets of downtown Chicago. Under protest, Bret bought Adam some new clothes. Jeans, button downs, tee shirts and casual slacks, along with a pair of sneakers and leather loafers.
Adam always protested, Bret always insisted, so after awhile, Adam just stopped protesting. Like any normal person, the hazel eyed man liked to be spoiled and Bret enjoyed doing it, so why not. A tiny part of Adam felt, as long as they used his body, he could use their wallets. However, he wasn't a gold digger. He never asked for or picked out expensive designer clothes, he was at least fair about it.
At noon, Wade Barrett arrived at the hotel to pick Adam up. Bret double checked the arrangements for the rest of the week. Starting at noon tomorrow, Adam would be his until six o'clock Sunday evening. Bret would have five days with Adam. It cost him a fortune, but he didn't care, to him the blond beauty was worth every dime.
When Adam got back to the house, he carried his things up to his room. He opened the door and was greeted by a sad sight.
Heath Slather, Adam's best friend, held the new boy, Seth, protectively in his arms. Seth was sobbing his heart out. Adam sighed, time to be the big brother again.