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The last thing he could fully remember was being along that Idaho road. His thoughts were all over the place and he felt sick. Tired. Alone. That's why it felt odd to wake up in a soft bed. Mike opened his eyes halfway as he adjusted to the white ceiling. He noticed the dark frame of the canopy bed overhead. The world around him was full of color and the richest of items. It'd been a long time since he'd slept with someone who owned a full gold framed mirror and silk sheets. Then again, when did he sleep with someone?

"How the fuck did I forget that I slept with a client?" he mumbled to himself as he sat up.

Narcolepsy had been a strain on Mike's whole life. It was a bitch to deal with and, quite honestly, he couldn't take it. However, there had been a lot more to deal with as of late. Mike got out of the bed and tried to stay still on his feet. He walked towards the window, moving past the thin, white curtains. Mike saw a stretch of beautiful houses, made for those with money. The grass was green and the flowers were planted all around. The cars in the driveways were ones Mike could never think of affording. But they were just right for Scott.

Mike looked onward, eyes on the road. He couldn't help but think of that heartbreaking bastard. He trusted and loved that man more than he could admit. Never had he been in love the way he was with Scott. He didn't know if he could love again. And to top it all off, Bob was gone. His death was the cherry on top. Mike clenched his fists as he walked to the mirror. He looked at himself up and down, thinking of how his life had spiraled so far down. His heart was caked in pain and he wished it would just stop. He had to find relief for all the shit he went through. Judging by the room and the neighborhood, Mike was in for a ton of money that might just be a temporary relief.

"...We have to be in Bar Harbor by tomorrow night," a female voice said from downstairs.

Mike looked to the black door on his left side. He forgot about his troubles and focused on the voice. Curious to see his client, to see if he could recognize their face. He stepped onto a red carpet, realizing that he didn't have shoes on. That'd be another objective- find his shoes. He saw five doors down the long hallway, each black with a gold doorknob. This was obviously a rich house and, he hated to admit it, but he could get used to this.

"Are you sure you can't come with us?" the voice asked again.

"I wish I could, dear," a man's voice brought up," but Mr. Parker needs me for a case. He's suing a multi million dollar company and I have to be there."

"Well, we're gonna miss you."

Mike walked over to the stairs, where the dark railing was almost like a gate to Hell. He leaned his head and peered down the red carpeted stairs. He saw a tall, blonde woman talking to a man with dark hair. He looked older and had a bit more girth than the woman, but he stood below her. Of course, she wore heels and she stood straight up, but he still seemed short. Taller than Mike, with snake eyes and a grin he saw in his nightmares. His clean shaved face sent chills down his spine. He seemed creeped out by such a man. Before he went downstairs, a hand grabbed his shirt and pulled him back into another room, similar to the one he woke up in. The two looked to the stairs, but then went outside to say their goodbyes.

"Hey!" Mike was on the ground, pushing the hand away," What the fuck, dude?"

"You're not supposed to go downstairs until Polly and the kids leave," a young Polynesian man said," I thought you'd know how to hustle."

Mike studied the young man that pulled him back. He was tan and tall, with eyes that reminded the young man of the ocean. One was blue and the other green, the waves coming through both. The messy brunette hair had yet to be combed and his hands were now helping Mike up. They were soft, he had to admit, and his fingers were as fragile as a butterfly's wing. Odd, but the dirty blond boy didn't comment. The other young man's face softened as he looked into Mike's eyes.

"You didn't know," he sighed," I'm sorry. All men are different, and yet, I wouldn't know. Hell, you might not even be a…"

"Yeah," Mike nodded," Most are. It's usually the women who hide the men. Their husbands tend to get mad and go after hustlers. They usually bring a shotgun or two. It all depends. I'm Michael Waters, by the way. Call me Mike."

"Michael Grant Kalani," Michael smirked," You can be Mike- i'll be Michael."

"Out of all the men in the world, I meet one with the same name as me," Mike laughed," Don't tell me you're from Portland either."

"Dunmore, Pennsylvania."

"Ah, the East Coast. Why would you come out to-?"

Michael answered that they were in "East End", a small gated community near Portland. Mike was unconscious the entire ride here. When they found him, his belongings were done and (if both men had been honest) they thought he was dead. When they realized that he wasn't dead or a drunk, Michael took sympathy on him. He knew what waking up in a new world felt like. He'd been there before. Mike sat down on the man's bed looking all around.

"Now, who did I sleep with to get in a place like this?" He questioned.

"So you are a hustler," Michael laughed softly," Truth is, you didn't sleep with anyone. Mr Arendalle, his coworker and I found you. He was bringing me to his home for the weekend, you know, while the family's away. I'm a- he's coming."

Mike heard the sound of footsteps outside. Michael nodded to him and he stood, the two coming to the door and opening it to reveal the man Mike saw downstairs.

"Hello Mr Arendalle."

"Polly and the kids are gone, Michael. It's Roger for now."