Disclaimer If you are under the age to read porn or it is not accepted in your area, please leave now. The fictional story below is completely from my imagination. Nothing from it is true. *** ** * * ** *** Chapter 4 It wasn't there. The piece of paper not bigger than a credit card wasn't in the pocket. Tom threw the shirt angrily down on the sofa and stood with his hand on his temples, massaging the aching points. 'What could he do now?' he thought to himself, continiously massaging his forehead. He would head back to the Hilton Hotel to see if he could get some sort of contact number. Quickly snatching up his keys from the sofa, Tom bounded out, slamming the door of his apartment shut. The newly polished chandelier shook under the vibrations - cascading shadows of little droplets over the ceiling from the beaming sun outside.
Tom rushed out of the building, rushing to where he had parked his car. It stood proudly in the parking space, with his apartment number engraved on a small gold plaque on the wall. He flicked the button to release the lock. Gunning the engine once more, he sped out of the car park, praying to the lord that he could get in contact with Will once more.
The green vectra raced through the streets, and pulled up very elegantly at the main doors to the Hilton Hotel. He cut the engine before stepping out and taking his first proper breath since he had realised he'd lost the number.
"Excuse me sir?" came a voice "You cannot park there, it is a phorbiden area to park, we are awaiting Sir Anthony Hopkins at any moment"
Tom grinned and turned to reply "Well he aint having my kidneys for tea - be a good man and park it for me?"
The keys were thrown into the air, the parking clerk catching them with his left hand. He stood there for a minute, in his red suit, slightly baffled. Tom quickened his pace towards the entrance. Not wanting to argue, he stepped into the hotel and walked straight to the reception desk. He smiled once more, realising what he had just said to the parking clerk. "Yes sir - how can I help you?" ask the gentleman behind the desk. He was dressed quite smart, the original black trousers and shoes with a white shirt and black tie. Covering his shirt, he wore a black waistcoat that made him look like a character from the hit movie 'The Godfather'. His golden tag read 'James Grant - Assistant Manager'.
"Yes, well I rather hope you can" replied Tom "I was hoping for some sort of contact number from a occupant that stayed here about two days ago - they stayed in room 200"
"I'm afraid that is not possible sir" commented the assistant manager "It is only celebrities that stay in rooms 150 - 200 - if you give me a name, I will make a search in the last two weeks" "Im looking for a Mr. Young - a Mr. Will Young"
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~**~ ~ T-shirts - shirts - trousers and shoes - strewn all over the floor. He had lost it on the flight over - he knew it. Will sat at the end of the bed, and placed his arms on his knees and cradled his face in his hands. What if some reporter found it? And they found out who Tom was? He would not get a moments peace. At least Will would know that the picture would have been found as it might be on the papers tomorrow. He sighed once again - he wished Tom would ring, hearing his voice was so assuring. As the though entered his head, the phone in his apartment rang.
Blood pressure rocketed, his heart beat twice as fact and vision became blurry as he walked towards the phone. He placed his hand on the receiver before bring it up to his ear. "Hello"
"William? Did you get over there alright?" screeched the familiar voice down the phone. It was his mother - Annabel. Without his mother, he would not know where he'd be. His mother meant more to him that the world.
"Hi mum, yeah I'm here ok - what time is it there as its 9.35pm here - isn't it like 2.30 in the morning there?"
"Yes dear, me and your father were worried about your flight. I'm glad you've arrived safely."
"I'm fine mum, thanks for calling - now go because it will cost you a fortune ringing LA from England. I'll ring you tomorrow sometime. Give my love to dad, Rupert and Emma will you?"
"Yes darling, of course I will, goodnight now son"
"Night Mum"
The line went dead. Will placed the phone back before turning and laying on the bed. He'd ring the Hilton Hotel tomorrow and see if he'd left it there. The photo meant so much to him. Too many memories had been lost already with Tom and himself. He closed his eyes and drifted into a light sleep. Sleeping with the window open was not a good idea - LA could sometimes get chilly in the night times. But sleep is all he could think of at the moment - as every time is closed his eyes, images of Tom appeared.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~**~ ~ "Mr. Will Young?"
"Yes Mr. Will Young. stayed in room 200 until yesterday morning. I was here, I visited him." "Indeed sir, well I am glad you enjoyed having tea with Mr. Young but as you can see, I'm rather busy" replied the receptionist in his most formal voice and returning to shuffle his papers on the desk.
"But I need your help" pleaded Tom "I need a contact number"
"I am sorry sir but I cannot share out any personal information about any of our clients - If you do not quieten down, I will have to have you escorted away"
"This is stupid" barked Tom "I make a simple request and you seem to blank me due to the fact I know a celebrity"
With hardly any movement at all, the assistant manager had pressed a hidden button under the desk, signalling a disturbance at reception and that the area needed security officers. Two large men appeared from the main corridor and quickly walked over to the desk. They wore thick heavy blue jumpers with black trousers and the guards hat over their heads.
One took Tom's left arm and the other took the right. He pleaded to be left go, all he needed was a number or an address.
"Please let me go, I need to speak to Will - I'm quite capable of walking out myself" he screamed. Drawing attention to himself from all areas of the hotel. With the shouting continuing, a man appeared from the back of the desk, dressed slightly more elegant than the assistant manager. This gentleman didn't need a tag, he was easily recognised as the manager of the hotel.
"What in the Lord's name is this Grant?" he raised his voice at his assistant. The assistant manager ducked his head. Like a puppy does to its master if it is being told off.
"Guards - release this man. What is happening here Grant?" the manager asked once more.
"This gentleman was causing quite a disturbance sir" replied the assistant "and I had to have him taken away",
The manager glanced at Tom before turning back to his assistant. He then took a glance at Tom again, as though studying his face. With the guards dropping him, he could feel where their hands had been holding him, gripping him tightly, trapping him in their grasp.
"Could you bear with me for a minute sir?" asked the manager, shaking his head, indicating that the guards could back off. "I just need to find something." He whispered to the assistant manager some commands and they both quickly disappeared behind a door, leading from behind the desk.
Whispered voices could be heard from the back. Tom stood at reception slightly concerned of what was happening. The two gentlemen re-appeared behind the desk from the door. The manager seemed to be holding something. "Sir, this is very important and we do not usually do this as it is a policy of the hotel but there is evidence that you do know of a occupant that stayed here" said the manager in a most formal voice.
Tom was baffled. What was this guy talking about?
The manager handed Tom what he held in his hand. Taking a long look, he realised it was the picture of him and Tom around 4 years ago. in Malta. The memories they had of that place. They had sworn to return there one day, re- live the memories they had shared. Tom remembered the day the picture was taken, sitting on the hot beach of Sliema, north of Valletta. The sun had been setting, the sky going red and Will had asked a passer-by to take a photo. Out of all 200 pictures they had taken, only one featured them both.
Only this picture was crinkled. It had been scrunched up in someone's hand - or that's what it looked like. Will knew where Tom lived or he could contact - why hadn't he? Saying that, he had left a note with the receptionist. Tom leaned against the wall, glancing back at the picture.
The faces on the gentlemen's faces said it all. They had guess what was the matter. It was no secret that Will Young, winner of Pop Idol was gay - this man must be a boyfriend or an Ex seeking the old love. The guy wasn't bad looking, longish blonde hair, quite a tan with a medium build.
Tom guessed he had better say something to interrupt the manager's stares. "Thank you for. this. urm. do you mind if I take it with me?".
"Not a problem sir, if we could give you a contact number, I gladly would but it is our hotel policy."
"Yes, I understand - thank you anyway"
Tom turned to leave and walked to the main doors. Still holding the picture in his hand, he never realised that he passed Sir Anthony Hopkins at the door.
"Good afternoon" spoke a silky voice
Tom mumbled his manners before leaving the hotel and heading towards the car park to his car. He needed time to think.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ ~~
Will woke the next morning, his throat feeling very dry and painful. He placed his grey robe around his broad naked shoulders and walk towards the kitchen. He put the kettle on and returned to the bedroom where he searched his open suitcase for the brochure of the hotel. Finding it, he sat on the bed and picked up the receiver. He hoped the picture had been found..
Ok well I hope you like this one guys. I know there's no sex in it yet but there will be. I just wanna build up the story to a high first. As usual, I've had lovely comments, Ian for one, thanks mate for you support. Peter, entry 5 in my guestbook, contact me and we'll talk more. If you wanna contact me, feel free to do so, I love hearing from ppl! twmmorgan@hotmail.com Or visit the website at www.freewebs.com/wonders_of_will_young Ta xx xx xx xx