by Land, Alexa
“Yeah. Um, I’m going to visit Skye at his job. He’s a dancer at this place called Daddy’s Boiz, and I don’t know, I guess I have a bad feeling about it. I was going to go and check it out, make sure it’s all, you know, legitimate or whatever.” I was rambling a bit, because this situation made me really uncomfortable. I didn’t want to do this, I didn’t want to push Vincent away. But how could I knowingly get involved with a criminal? How could I keep putting myself in danger?
He knit his brows slightly. “I’ve heard of that place, it has a bad reputation. Maybe you shouldn’t go down there.”
“I’ll be fine. I’m just worried about Skye, and I think I’ll feel better after I see this place for myself.” After another awkward pause, I forced myself to step around him and head down the stairs, my hands still in my pockets to keep from reaching for him. “Take care of yourself, Vincent.”
“You too, Trevor.”
I didn’t look back as I walked down the street to the bus stop. You’re doing the right thing, I told myself, even as another part of me screamed no, no, no! He was bad news, I didn’t want any part of whatever he was involved in. This was the right choice, the mature decision.
Wasn’t it?
When the bus arrived, it was almost empty. I sat toward the back and put my feet on the seat, hugging my knees to my chest as I rested my forehead against the window. More than one rider over the years had carved graffiti into the glass, probably out of sheer boredom. One tag caught my attention and I sat up and blinked at it, then ran a fingertip over the tiny word. Some other Trevor had sat in this same seat and scratched his name into the window. It wasn’t like the other tags, most of which were bold and screamed for attention. Instead, this one was a whisper. Trevor. I could relate to my namesake, to this other boy who’d felt the need to leave a little mark behind, a tiny declaration of ‘hey, I’m here.’ He and I probably had a lot in common.
After a couple transfers, I got off the bus in an unfamiliar part of town. It wasn’t far from the financial district and a few big hotels, but the neighborhood was still fairly sleazy. I passed several bars and clubs, then finally found Skye’s place of employment. Red neon spelled out the club’s name above a series of plexiglass cases that covered the front of the building, each containing color posters of different (barely legal) shirtless boys. Oh man, this was as bad as the business card, only on a larger scale.
I went up to the bouncer and started to say, “I’m here to see—”
Before I finished my sentence, he held the door open for me and said with a leer, “Go right in. Always room for one more cute little twink.”
The interior of the club was really loud and fairly dark, except for the spotlights that shone on more than a dozen little platforms around the room. Young guys, many in pairs, were dancing on those platforms dressed only in skimpy, tight shorts. The young wait staff wore the same thing, but with the addition of sneakers and cropped tank tops that did little to cover them up.
I spotted my friend across the room. While most of the dancers played to the audience, moving their bodies provocatively to the pulsating techno music, Skye was just dancing, eyes closed, hands raised over his head as if he was on the dance floor of any club in the city, clearly enjoying himself. He looked gorgeous. The baggy clothes he usually wore hid the fact that he actually had an amazing swimmer’s body, lean, perfectly toned and currently glistening with sweat.
Even though he wasn’t doing anything lewd like his fellow dancers, the tables around him were full. At first I was surprised that he drew a crowd, since he wasn’t being overtly sexual. But all of a sudden, I got it. I understood why he was so appealing in a place like this.
Skye, like his dancing, was pure and innocent. He was just up there having a good time, seemingly oblivious to the leering crowds. But to the type of men this club attracted, his beauty, youth, and naïveté were an aphrodisiac. To them, his innocence must seem like a pretty bow on a present, something enticing, but that was ultimately meant to be stripped away as they claimed their prize.
“Hey sexy, can I buy you a drink?”
I was startled by the voice close beside me and turned to look at the sixty-year-old man that had spoken, his eyes roving slowly down my body. “No,” I said tersely, taking a step back from him.
He actually held up a few bills, rubbing them between his fingers as he said, “I’ll be at the bar if you change your mind.” Ugh! I felt like I needed a shower after that five second conversation.
When I realized several patrons at nearby tables were eyeing me like I was dinner, I crossed my arms over my chest defensively and hurried to Skye’s station. Thankfully, the music ended just a minute later and an unseen announcer said, “The boys will be taking a short break. Make sure you show your appreciation, gentlemen, they’re dancing their sexy little asses off for you!”
Skye hopped down nimbly from the stage and dragged the back of his hand over his forehead. Immediately he was surrounded by a group of men, all of which were trying to hand him something, whether it was cash, or their business card, or a drink. He smiled brightly at a stocky middle-aged man to his left and accepted a tumbler of clear liquid, which he drank thirstily, then gathered the bills and cards that were being waved at him, his smile genuine as he thanked his admirers.
While all of this was going on, a couple more men offered to buy me drinks. I declined their offers, then waved my hands, trying to get Skye’s attention. There were so many men around him that I couldn’t get near him. Finally he saw me, his cute face completely lighting up. From here, I could see his lips form the words ‘excuse me,” before he cut through the crowd.
“Trevor!” He grabbed me in a hug. “You came, I’m so glad! See, this place isn’t so bad, is it? You could do the same thing I’m doing, we could share a platform!” He took my hands as best he could, given the fact that he was holding a lot of stuff, and began dancing with me (despite the fact that I remained perfectly immobile), swaying his body even though there was no music playing and brushing against me playfully. Several club patrons stopped what they were doing to stare at his little show, which made me really uncomfortable.
We were near a door marked ‘employees only,’ and I kept hold of Skye’s hand as I said, “I need to talk to you,” then began leading him toward the door.
“Where do you think you’re taking him?” someone asked. I recognized the patron that had handed Skye a drink when he first got off the stage.
“He’s on break,” I said.
“Too bad,” the man said angrily. “He stays out here.”
Even though he had thirty years and sixty pounds on me, I hit him with a hard glare and snapped, “I said he’s on break.” I knew I was about as intimidating as a squirrel, but maybe if I acted rabid enough, this person would leave us alone.
Okay, that didn’t seem to be happening, so I went with ignoring him and dragging my friend away despite the man’s protests. I pushed through the employees-only door and when it swung shut behind us, Skye said, “I’m really not supposed to leave the floor, not unless I have to pee real quick. The management wants us to stay out there so the clients buy us drinks. It increases the club’s profits.” He slurred that last part a little, then swayed slightly. “Whoa, I must not have eaten enough today.” Then he changed the subject by saying, “Well, as long as I’m back here, let me put this stuff in my locker.” He held up the fistfuls of bills and business cards he was clutching, then took off toward a deserted locker room to our right.
“Skye, we need to talk about this place,” I said as I trailed after him.
“I know the club seems kind of weird at first,” he said, going up to one of the lockers and swaying again as he spun the dial on the padlock, “but everyone’s been really nice to me. I was kind of worried when I first applied for the job a couple weeks ago. I mean, this isn’t normally my kind of place, you know? But it’s not like a strip club or anything, I don’t have to get naked. And even though the customers try to hit on me, all
I have to do is say no.” He was having a bit of trouble with the lock, and finally got it open on the fourth or fifth try.
“Are you okay?” I asked as he swayed again. “Maybe you should sit down.”
“I think you’re right.” He grabbed a blue backpack from inside the locker, then tried to sit on a nearby bench. He almost missed, and I caught his arm to help him.
“Are you drunk, Skye?”
“I don’t think so. I’ve only had three or four drinks over the last two hours.” He unzipped his pack and stuffed the money and business cards inside, then started to tip over backwards. I grabbed him again and sat beside him, holding him up. “Don’t know what’s wrong,” he slurred. When he looked at me, his eyes were almost fully dilated.
“Did you take any drugs?”
He shook his head. “Never. Oh wow, I don’t feel so good.”
Dread began to build in me as I said, “I think someone may have slipped you something.”
“What? No. Who would do that?”
“Half the men in that bar.” I suddenly felt like I needed to get Skye away from here, and fast. “Put your shoes on.” Awkwardly, I helped him stuff his feet into his sneakers. Before I could get his shirt on him, he passed out. It was all I could do to catch him and swing him onto the concrete floor.
Shaking him did nothing, he was out cold. I checked his pulse, which seemed a bit fast. The dread was replaced with anxiety. If he had been drugged, whoever had done that might decide to come back here and collect their prize. I quickly shoved his clothes in his backpack and zipped it shut, then stuck my arms through the straps, all while trying to figure out how to get my friend out of here.
Just then, someone barged into the locker room and demanded, “Where’s Skye? I’m not paying him to hide in the fucking locker room!” A man with a shaved head and a thick gold chain appeared in the doorway. When he noticed my friend splayed out on the floor, he asked, “Is that little shit drunk? What the hell’s going on?”
I stood up and squared my shoulders, putting myself between the stranger and Skye’s prone body. “Who are you?” I asked.
“Who am I? I’m the owner of this club, you little fuck. Who the hell are you?”
Instead of answering, I said, “I think my friend was drugged by one of your patrons.”
“How dare you make those kind of fuckin’ accusations in my club! If any drugs were involved, that kid took ‘em willingly. When he comes to, tell him his ass is fired. Now get him off my property! That’s all I need, some addict ODing on the premises.”
“That’s really awesome, the way you care about your employees,” I muttered.
Since the situation was already out of control, it was probably best not to antagonize this guy any further. I grabbed Skye by the armpits and hoisted him up as best I could, then dragged him out the back exit, which fortunately was only a few feet away. As soon as the heavy door swung shut behind us, I sat down in the alley and held his head on my lap. It wasn’t easy dragging someone who weighed as much as I did, and I needed to rest for a minute.
I pulled off Skye’s backpack and located his sweatshirt, which I draped over his naked torso like a blanket before checking his pulse again. It was strong and steady, if still a bit quick. As I was deciding what to do next, a couple men rounded the corner and began walking toward us. One of them was the man that had handed Skye a drink when he left the stage. Definitely not good. I raised Skye’s head and put the backpack under it like a pillow, then stood up and placed myself between his unconscious form and the two men.
The one I hadn’t seen before said cheerfully, “Hi there, cutie. We were wondering what happened to our boy Skye there when he didn’t come back after his break. He’d been drinking a lot tonight, looks like he passed out. How about if we help you get him home?”
“No thanks.” Everything about this situation felt wrong, and I knew these two were lying about Skye’s drinking. Fear prickled down my spine but I held my ground, subtly glancing around the alley for something to use as a weapon if and when they got aggressive.
“We just wanna help,” the man said as they came closer. “Our car’s right around the corner, and your friend obviously needs a lift.”
“You need to back off,” I said, fighting to keep my voice firm and steady.
Their smiles faded, replaced with a cold glint in their eyes. The man who’d given Skye the drink said, his voice a menacing growl, “That boy’s bought and paid for. You need to get the fuck out of our way, sonny.”
He started to step forward, so I spun to my left and pulled a slat from a wooden pallet that was leaning against the back of the building. It broke off in a long, jagged spike, which I pointed at them and bluffed, “You really don’t want to mess with me. Now turn and walk away, and no one gets hurt.” I was completely terrified, but I’d learned how to disguise my fear a long time ago. That skill was coming in really handy at the moment.
I was surprised that my threats actually worked. The two of them could have overpowered me with minimal effort, but instead they looked worried as they turned and fled the alley. Just when I was feeling like a real badass, a familiar voice behind me said, “That was impressive. I’m proud of you for not backing down.”
I turned to face Vincent. “Don’t tell me, let me guess. They were actually running from you, not me.” He shrugged noncommittally, and I asked, “What did you do to chase them off? Did you point a gun at them?”
“Not as far as you know.” He came up beside Skye, dropped into a crouch and checked his pulse. “What happened to your friend?”
“I don’t know. I assume he was slipped some kind of date rape drug, especially after that ‘bought and paid for’ comment, but I’m just guessing. Since you’re here, think you can help me get him to the hospital?” I tossed the improvised weapon aside, then looked at my aching hand. I’d managed to drive several big splinters into my palm.
“Sure.” He picked Skye up effortlessly and I grabbed the backpack before heading out of the alley.
“So, you followed me here,” I said. It wasn’t a question.
“That club is a cesspool. I was concerned about you coming here on your own.”
“And you did that right after I said we shouldn’t see each other anymore.”
“Well, I didn’t think this qualified as seeing each other.”
“I didn’t mean it that way. I just meant that you still came and checked on me. That was really nice of you, Vincent.”
When we reached the street, he stopped beside a black Jaguar, took a set of keys from his pocket and pressed a button on the fob. Then he swung the door open and carefully loaded Skye onto the back seat. I climbed in after him and cradled Skye’s head on my lap as Vincent got behind the wheel and started the engine.
“Do you have a different car so you won’t be recognized by murderous thugs?” I asked as I idly brushed Skye’s shaggy blue hair back from his forehead.
“Exactly,” Vincent said, pulling out into traffic.
We’d gone a couple blocks when Skye’s dark eyelashes fluttered. He stirred a bit and then looked up at me, his face erupting into a big smile. “Hey there, Trevor.”
“Hi Skye. How do you feel?”
He thought about that for a moment, then said, “Groggy.” After glancing around at his surroundings, he asked, “Where are we going?”
“The hospital.”
“Why? You sick?” He knit his brows in concern.
“No. I think you were drugged.”
He sat up, the sweatshirt that had been draped over him pooling in his lap. “I don’t remember taking anything.”
“I think it might have been slipped to you in a drink.”
He looked down at himself. “Did I finish my shift already?” He was rubbing his forehead, and I noticed that he’d painted his short fingernails with dark blue polish.
“Not exactly.” I gave him a brief summary of the night’s events. When I finished, he leaned back against the seat and just absorbed what I
’d told him for a while. He was still rubbing his forehead, so I asked, “Do you have a headache?”
“Yeah. I don’t want to go to the hospital, though. I can’t afford a medical bill.”
“You sure?” He nodded, and I said, “Okay, then we’ll take you home.”
“No! Not yet, not until I get it together a little. River’s there, and he’ll kill me! He’s really overprotective. He doesn’t know I work in that club, or worked, I guess, and finding out I may have been drugged will just totally freak him out.”
“Okay. We can go to my place,” I said. “I’m just not sure how you’ll do climbing five flights of stairs, since you still seem a bit woozy.”
“If you’d like, I can take you to my apartment,” Vincent said from the front seat. “It’s not far. That way, Skye can collect himself a bit before heading home.”
“That’d be great,” Skye said. “Hi, by the way, Vincent.”
“Hello, Skye.”
“I thought Nana said something about you living with her,” I remarked as Vincent took a left turn and started heading toward China Basin.
“I’ve been staying with her for a few months, ever since she suffered a mild heart attack. She doesn’t really need me there, but I wanted to keep an eye on her.”
“You’re a caretaker,” Skye observed, smiling at Vincent in the rearview mirror. “That’s cute. My brother’s the same way. That’s less cute, though. He tries to act like my parent, despite the fact that he’s only three years older than me.”
I changed the subject by saying, “When we get to Vincent’s apartment, we need to call the police and report this. If you were drugged, the people who did that to you should be held accountable.”
“I don’t want to go to the police. Who knows what really happened? Maybe I just had too much to drink on an empty stomach,” Skye murmured. He looked a little lost, so I reached out and took his hand.
“They made some comment about you being bought and paid for. To me, that sounded like they might have worked out some sort of deal with the club owner or something. Do you know anything about that?” I asked him.