“I think you should get a drink and shut up.” Tyler set his phone down on the bar. “Hey,” he waved to the shirtless brunette passing out drinks.
The young man turned around, revealing a pair of nipple rings. “My name's not hey.” The bartender walked over.
“What are you doing?” I asked. “We already have drinks.”
“You wanna sit there and sip on some fruity sex on the beach go on right ahead. I'm gonna drink like a real man.”
“I don't want anything.” I took a drink of my bright blue cocktail.
“Two tequilas!” Tyler barked.
“I said I don't want anything.”
“Then it's not for you.” Tyler slapped a twenty down on the bar and turned back around. I watched as he scanned the dance floor where a macabre mixture of drug addicts and bulimics moved to the beat, all searching for one thing: self-affirmation.
That's what it was about, not how many substances you could afford, or how many dicks you could take. I knew what was going on in those boy's heads. They were striving for something better than what they could offer themselves, because they didn't think what they had was enough. It had nothing to do with having fun and everything to do with dissatisfaction.
Tyler didn't understand that, but he wasn't the self-deprecating type either. The pompous prick thought he was a god.
I jolted at the sound of two shot glasses hitting the bar. Everything about the tequila, the smell, the way it tasted, it all made my stomach churn. I picked the glass up anyways and Tyler snatched it out of my hand, wagging his finger.
“Hey!”
Tyler shook his head with a playful grin and got up, letting his hips move to the beat as he shuffled over to a dark haired man wearing a transparent, black mesh shirt, clearly meant to show off his perfect abs.
I sipped my drink, watching as the two came closer until they were less than a foot away. Tyler was rubbing his sides and thrusting his hips. He turned back and winked at me. I was ready to draw blood.
I knew I had to get out of there. Tyler was turning back every few seconds so he could rub it in. He was enjoying the look of horror on my face. Why else would he be taking it in?
I backed my stool up so fast I had to brace myself against the bar to avoid falling over. Then I darted through the crowd while searching through my pockets for a cigarette. The entire time I could hear my mother's drunken laugh. The old man used to tell me that there was nothing between my ears. He said that I was just a tight hole and a pretty face on a damaged piece of fruit, nothing more.
Maybe it was true, I thought when I slammed the back door open, ignoring the biting frozen air that flew in. I took out a cigarette and lit it, then leaned against the wall surrounding the dumpster, trying to stave off a wave of self hatred. I always used to think that if I did better, he'd be more interested. He wouldn't ignore my calls or treat me the way that he did. I just had to be something more than a pretty face. I ended up doing everything I could to impress a man that wanted nothing more than to take advantage.
Everyone wanted a piece of me but they never seemed to want to get to know me. I used to think that's what it meant to be young and gay. All the other guys seemed to do was roll around in the sheets, but over the years, I did manage to meet a few good men in committed relationships.
Most people would've killed for what we had, but most people didn't understand money, or what it meant to grow up with it. Tyler was engrossed in a never ending bacchanalia of designer labels and psychedelics. For me, the party was over. I was driven by other things now, and Tyler didn't understand that. It was time for me to move on. Tyler wasn't ready to do that.
The back door flew open. It hit the wall with a crack and a dark silhouette came into view.
“Jesus,” I clutched my heart.
“Did I scare you?” The man had chocolate colored skin and a strange accent. I couldn't tell if it was French or European.
“Yeah. It's alright. I'm just a little tense.”
“Well, why's that?” He emptied the trash can in the dumpster. “You're at the club.” He bobbed his head up and down playfully. “You've got music and boys all around you.”
“You don't seem excited.”
“About a place like this,” he scoffed, “nothing but children in there.” When he passed under the light to walk in, a ray fell over his stomach. His white shirt seemed to be plastered to his skin. It was so tight that the outlines of his muscles poked through and caught the shadows.
I threw my first cigarette and lit another. “You want one?” I opened my pack to offer it to the guy.
“No, thank you.” He turned to walk back inside.
“Gee, thanks.” I laughed bitterly.
He shook his head. “Cher, you know you gotta take better care of yourself than that.” He walked back in. “It's a shame.”
Chapter 2
I was festering in the cold, filling my lungs with as much tobacco as I could. Who did that man think he was, talking to me like that? He worked at a bar making less than minimum wage. I was just trying to be nice. I didn't have to offer him a cigarette.
I put my butt out on the wall and threw it in the trash can. Then I walked back in. It was time to go home. Now all I had to do was find Tyler. He wasn't on the dance floor when I walked in, so I made my way towards the bar, but he wasn't there when I got there. He was gone. I was tired and angry, too upset to do anything but climb in bed and sleep. The last thing I wanted to do was hunt him down.
So I finished my drink and set it down on the bar so I could use the restroom. The bathrooms were always the main attraction at the club. That's where the fun happened. People were streaming in and out, most of them in couples, though there were some that passed me by with glazed eyes and red faces. One was even moving his jaw back and forth as though he'd been on a week long binger.
By the time the line started moving, I could barely stand up I was so tired, so I leaned against the wall and waited until I couldn't hold it any longer and started pushing through.
I could hear Tyler. He was making this deep, prolonged growl and these soft hissing noises. I'd heard it every night for three years. I threw my weight into the last stall door.
“Close the door!” Tyler had his pants down and the guy from the dance floor on his knees, twisting his tongue around Tyler's cock. He kept thrusting while I stared at him. I rushed in and kicked the man straight in the head. He flew back and nearly bashed his skull in on the porcelain toilet. He got up almost as fast as he fell and pushed past me.
“Screw this.”
“What do you think you're doing, huh?” He tried to step past me, but I blocked his way.
“You think you can treat me like that then go and fuck somebody else? I was your boyfriend. I took care of you. I was there for you, even when everyone else thought you were nothing but a self-righteous prick.”
He pushed past me and started to walk out of the bathroom.
“Hey!” I followed him out to the dance floor and grabbed his wrist.
He jerked it away.
“You know what?” I walked around him to stop him. “You're an arrogant prick. You've got no respect for anyone other than yourself. Did it even occur to you that I might not appreciate you cheating on me?”
“You think I care? You're just a sex doll.”
The world was drowned out by the sudden snap that seemed to roll right through the room. There were no voices, no music, just a worthless sack of meat, fueled by it's own sense of self-importance. Things had never been more clear.
I was a foolish child, doing everything I could to let the cool kids play with me. I was so blinded by my need to belong that I never even realized just how sick he was. Tyler never did anything for me. He never complimented me. It was all about what he wanted me to do.
He just kept staring at me with his pants unbuttoned and a smirk on his face. He loved it. He was having fun. I stepped back, lowered my head and concentrated my anger into one big burst. I flew at him as fast as
I could. He laughed, dodged me and I slammed right into the edge of a table with a resounding crash that echoed through the room. Something warm dripped down my forehead.
Every single drug addicted sex fiend in the club started laughing at me. They all knew. They saw how Tyler's pants were down when I ran at him. They saw me lying on the floor with a line of blood falling down my forehead. They all knew what had happened, and they were all laughing at me. In the world of drugs and sex, cheating is the norm. Jealousy is demonized. I was the one worthy of ridicule, because I couldn't pretend that everything was OK, even when my heart was being torn out.
“Hey!” The man from the dumpster walked out from behind the bar. He moved fast with his shoulders swinging and eyes so wide they gave me shivers.
He walked over to kneel down in front of me. “Are you OK?”
I pursed my lips. “Thank you.”
“Why don't you go back to the colored section.” Tyler made the mistake of grabbing the man by the shoulder.
The man shot up onto his feet and flipped around with his arms up in a boxer formation. “Oh, you wanna talk to me.” He threw himself forward, clearly ready to tear Tyler's face off.
Tyler backed up. He pointed behind the bar and met eyes with the man, who had his teeth clenched with veins bulging out of his neck. “You really wanna see what happens when you hit a rich kid? No more fried chicken for you.”
Tyler had him by the balls and he knew it.
“Next time, remember your place.” Tyler dropped a quarter on the floor for the man to pick up and started to walk back to the bar, clearly satisfied with himself. He leaned in to order a drink, and the bartender cold cocked him in the noise. His head flew back throwing blood everywhere. “What are you doing?” He screeched.
“Colored's only.” The bartender turned around and walked back behind the bar. Then a man the size of a gorilla walked out from behind the bar.
“He assaulted me.” Tyler pointed at the bartender.
“We ain't done yet.” The bouncer kicked Tyler's feet out from under him.
He fell to ground, kicking and screaming. “I'll kill yo-o-u! I'll kill yo-o-u!” The bouncer grabbed him by the legs and started dragging him out, towards the door where the man from the dumpster was standing, holding it open. Tyler was fighting and thrashing around, screaming while the rest of the bar watched, cheering the bartender on. “You can't do this!” He spit in the direction of the bartender and grabbed onto a pair of stools near the bar. The stools tipped over and slammed down on top of him. He started howling and squirming around like a worm, trying to get free.
For a moment, I thought he was going to get away, but the man from the dumpster grabbed him by the arms and helped the bouncer throw him out the door while I cowered up against the wall.
I felt a hand press against my shoulder and I jumped. The man from the dumpster was behind me, staring down with warm, sympathetic eyes. “Are you OK?”
I collapsed in tears, sobbing and shaking, trying to regain my composure. The sobs were moving through me so fast that I couldn't answer him. Instead, I let him pull me in, pick me up and carry me through the crowd into the office behind the bar.
He set me down on a computer chair near the back of the room and ran out. When he came back, he was holding a first aid kit.
“Is it that bad?” I asked.
“Not really.” He sat down on a chair in front of me and scooted closer so he could begin to clean the blood off my face. He was attentive and smooth. I noticed the callous on his hands right away. He was big and toned with not a single gram of fat on him. This was a real working man. He was nothing like Tyler.
“I'm such an idiot. You probably just think I'm some stuck up queen with too much time on their hands.”
He nodded his head.
I jerked back and curled up, too shaken to look at him. I didn't want his help, not if it meant being humiliated any further. I went to stand up.
“Wait.” He rested his hand on my own.
“No, I should leave. I...”
“Sit down.”
I sighed and let him continue wiping the blood off my face.
“I didn't mean that.” I gave him a skeptical look. “I just—it seems like something's going on and you need help.”
I nodded my head bitterly.
“What's your name?”
“Jake.”
He smiled and began to pull away the wrapping on a bandaid. “I'm Alan.”
“Thank you, Alan.” I didn't say much after that so after a bit he let me be and went back into the kitchen to work. When I stopped crying, it was because my body wouldn't let me anymore. When he came back in, I was still upset. I was just too drained to express it.
“Will you let me call you a cab?”
“I don't know. I don't want to be alone. I want to leave with somebody that I know.”
“Well, you know I guess...I mean you know me, but you barely know me. Does that count?”
“I suppose.”
Chapter 3
Alan motioned for me to follow him. We walked out into the club, which by that time had filled back up again. There was little room to walk, but he moved slow and stayed with me so we didn't get separated.
Once we were outside, and the cold had its grip on me, we walked through the lot, towards the back end where a small, paint-chipped sedan was sitting near the dumpster. He didn't seem to notice the shock on my face, or my apprehension when I got in. Then , when he started the car, the engine kicked off like a gun, and my hand darted towards the door handle.
He gave me a huge grin and turned out onto the road. “Is this safe?”
“How do you think I got to work?”
I sat back and closed my eyes. “I'm sorry.” I turned to him. “I'm just...”
“It's OK.”
“I'm very grateful. I know I don't sound like it, but I am. I want you to know that.”
“Thank you.”
I closed my eyes and let the rest of the trip drift past me until I felt us stop and I opened them to find that' we'd arrived at my complex. “Thank you, Alan.”
“It's no problem.”
“You wanna come up?”
“OK.”
When we got inside, I turned on the lights and plopped down on my black leather sectional. He treated the place like a palace, and took his shoes off before he came in. Then, he stood around waiting for my direction.
“You want a drink?” I had a small bar setup in the corner with two pairs of baby stools and a full collection of spirits.
He laughed bashfully. “I should probably get back to work.”
“You have to.” I pulled out a bottle of Soco. “Goes down sweet.”
“Hmm.” He seemed to move forward without even wanting to. By the time he was standing by my side, I already had a shot poured for him.
“Here.” I handed it to him and he took it reluctantly. “What is this?”
“You've never seen Soco before? Goes down easy, watch.” I downed my shot and cringed.
“It can't be that bad.” He took the shot like water.
I sat down with a sour face and offered him my shot glass while he poured himself another. “You're quite experienced.”
“Don't drink water very much where I'm from. It's too dirty.”
“Ah.” I took my glass. “I didn't know people still did that. Thought that was something from like the wild west or something.”
He shrugged and sat down next to me on the couch. “Lotta people live like they used to in other parts of the world. Never had an oven till I moved here.”
“Really? I can't imagine.” I took my shot and got up to pour myself another. When I turned back, and took his glass from him, I took the chance to get a good look at Alan.
He was well kempt with a buzz cut, and a perfectly clean white shirt. His pants were folded up at the bottoms and his nails were perfectly clean. To somebody that didn't understand poverty, or wealth for that matter, it might seem like he was doing well for
himself. But I knew better. Poor boys work harder.
He must've noticed me looking, because he smiled and raised his glass. I did too though I didn't take the shot until I was sitting down next to him. “So tell me your story?”
He was a little shaky when he got up to pour us both another drink. “You wanna know about my life?”
“Yeah.” I countered, a little defensively. “Why?”
“Because I knew people with money. They don't talk to nobody unless they match up to their impossible standards and even then they don't care.”
“You think I'm like that?”
“Heh, maybe...”
“And you don't think a person like me could possibly be interested in your story?”
“I don't know. Are you?”
“Yeah. You don't really look like you wanna tell it and that means it must be good.”
“There's not much to it.”
“Where are you from?” I asked, a little nauseous from the liquor.
“Haiti.”
He said it like it was a bad word, but I didn't get anything out of it. “I've never heard of it.”
“It's an island in the Caribbean.”
“With nice beaches and resorts and stuff?”
“No.” He shook his head.
I set my drink down to get a good look at him. “'It's one of those no man's lands, huh? Like the islands that are too dangerous for people to live there.”
“I don't know.” He sat his head back. “Sounds like an American idea. You can live in Haiti, but you probably won't like it. It's the poorest country in the world. People dying all the time from hunger and disease, things that you can cure here, no problem.”
“Is that why you left?”
“I left because I had to. There's no way my parents would've been able to survive if it weren't for the money I send home to them.”
Another sob story. I was too hurt for that. All I cared about was making this feeling go away, so I could finally get some peace, at least for the moment. But Alan wasn't enough, not on his own. I still couldn't stop thinking about Tyler and how he betrayed me.
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