“What. The. Fuck. Man.”
“What?” I look up at him vacantly.
“Are you just going to sit on this fucking couch for the rest of your life?”
“I don’t hear the couch complaining.”
“Maybe not, but you’re going to start hearing me complain. You have been out a month, and you haven’t done jack shit.”
“What’s there to do?” I ask bitterly.
“Take a shower for one. You stink. Clean up this fucking mess. Go outside for a walk. Something.”
I just shrug petulantly.
“Look.” He fiddles with the cuff on his button up shirt. “I’m going out for an early dinner with Ashley. Then I’m going to promote for a little while, and then we’re meeting back here. I don’t want her to find the VIP of New York’s biggest pity party sitting on my couch. I don’t want her smelling him either.”
“What do you care what she sees or smells? You could care less what women think.”
“Maybe this one is different.”
“Oh really. That’s a first.”
“Look, Ryan, I’m trying to be patient. But I’ve seriously had enough. I told you to come live with me so you could start fresh. Find a job, meet someone. Not follow in your mother’s footsteps.”
I glare up at him. “Fuck you,” I spit. “I’m nothing like her.”
“Oh yeah? Have you looked at yourself lately? You’re the mirror image.”
“Fuck off.” My responses are not very novel this evening.
“You fuck off,” he barks. “If you don’t fix yourself, you’re gone.”
“You’re tossing me out? What kind of fucking friend does that?”
“The best kind. Now pull your shit together!” He thunders out of the apartment, slamming the door behind him.
FML. I punch the pillow.
I wake up to something being flung in my face. I pull the shiny material away from my cheek.
“Wakey, wakey,” Mac says grinning.
“What the fuck man? What time is it?” I groan.
“A little after midnight.”
I sit up holding the blue material thing in my hand. “What is this?”
“Your uniform.”
I hold it up and stretch it out. “Shiny briefs?” I curl my lip.
“Yup, I got you a job.”
“As what, an underwear model?”
“Not exactly. A bartender. At Culture. I’m friends with the owner.”
“Culture?”
“It’s a strip club.”
I look up at Mac digesting this information. “You’re out of your fucking skull. I’m not working at a strip club.” I toss the Speedos back at him. He catches them with one hand.
“Yes. You are. Or you’re getting the fuck out of my apartment.”
“You’re a fucking piece of work.”
Mac stands over me. Almost threateningly. He’s not as tall or as stacked as me, but he has an air of authority. He always has. An unassuming, commanding presence. “You’re goddamn right I am. And you have two options, find Alana or take this job.”
I spring to my feet. “Why do you keep bringing her up?” I shout.
“Because she’s the reason you’re throwing the mother of all pity parties.”
I start to shake. I think the amount of alcohol in my system plus the lack of food is taking its toll. “I can’t face her.”
“Why not?”
“Because I’m a piece of shit who abandoned her!”
“I think if you talk to her and tell her what happened she’ll forgive you.”
I shake my head severely. “How is she supposed to forgive me when I can’t forgive myself!” I scream. There’s a sudden upshot inside me. A volcanic explosion of emotions that bulldozes me. I drop down onto the couch and hide my face in my hands. Don’t cry. Don’t cry. But I can’t control it. Hot tears spill down my face and into palms. Fuck.
I feel Mac’s hand on my shoulder.
“It will destroy me if she rejects me,” I mutter pathetically, shaking inconsolably. There, that’s the underlining reason I can’t face her. I’m a fucking pussy coward who wouldn’t survive if I lost her a second time.
“Who says she’ll reject you? She’ll be pissed, but I really believe she’ll forgive you. That girl loves you. I will never forget the look in her eyes when she came looking for you. I swear, it scarred me.”
I shake my head in my hands. The thought of Alana’s dejected eyes guts me. “I can’t do it. I’m not ready.”
“Fine then. Make yourself ready. Take this job. Have some fun. Get laid.” He stresses every sentence. “You’ll feel better if you release some frustration.”
Mac’s be all end all solution: sex.
I lift my head and wipe my face off. “Fine.” I give in. “I’ll take the job.”
Mac sighs and slaps me arm. “It’s a start bro.”
I look at him desolately. “I hope so.”
There’s a sudden knock at the door.
“Ashley,” Mac informs me. I look around the apartment frantically. I didn’t clean a thing. And now that I’m not drunk off my ass, I realize it really is a pigsty.
“Sorry, shit.” I get up and start picking up the empty beer bottles as he opens the door. It’s a painful reminder of where I came from and makes me mad. Like, almost violent. I breathe deeply, trying to calm myself. There’s an eruption of emotion overflowing inside me. I’m still depressed and hurting, anxious and bitter, but I think my little outburst alleviated some of the pressure. Maybe a hot shower and a good night sleep will do me some good. Right after I get this place in order.
Sheesh.
I spy Ashley and Mac interacting as I clean. They’re cozy with each other. He puts his arm around her and whispers something into her ear. She giggles. She fits perfectly against him. I’ve never seen him so affectionate toward a woman before. Not like the way he is with her. It’s warm, caring and sensitive. And I know he has it bad. He’s fucked. Have fun going down that road my friend. Hope she doesn’t break your heart. I’ll be here to pick up the pieces if she does.
I take out the trash -filled mostly with empty beer bottles- fold the blankets on the couch, scrub the counter, and wash the floor. By the time I’m done it’s nearly two AM. Mac and Ashley have gone to bed, and I’m alone with my thoughts.
I take a shower as quietly as I can, but I know any sound I make won’t interrupt what’s going on behind Mac’s door. I feel a little pang of jealousy. Not because he’s having sex, but because he’s found the one thing I lost. The one thing I’m too afraid to get back. To reclaim.
I collapse on the couch and pick up the little shiny blue shorts off the floor. I inspect them. They’re stretchy and sort of soft.
What the fuck am I getting myself into?
I walk east towards Culture.
It’s just a few blocks shy from the middle of Times Square. This area is busy at all hours of the day and night. It’s early February, so it’s still brisk and cold. I haven’t bought any new clothes or even reconnected my cell phone. I do have some money left over from when I sold my car. I gave half to Sean and my mother, and the other half went into an account I could access while in prison. I have always been good at balancing my finances. I know how to save and when to spend. The little money I do have won’t last me long, especially living in the city. I need this job, bad.
I walk up to a plain brick building with metal doors and one big, fat roly poly Hispanic guy sucking on a cigarette. He would almost be intimidating if I didn’t find the look of him so amusing. He’s dressed in all black with a thick goatee and derby hat that looks miniature on his round head.
“Move along. The doors don’t open till eight,” he rumbles.
“I’m here to see Daniel,” I tell him as the wind whips around us.
He eyes me suspiciously, like he’s assessing me. Then he pulls out a walkie-talkie from his belt. “Boss, someone’s here to see you. Looks like fresh meat.”
He puts his fing
er to his ear like he’s listening to something. “What’s your name?”
“Ryan.”
He stares. “Got a last name or is it just Ryan?”
I cock my eyebrow. “Pierce.” I swear, club staff can be arrogant pricks sometimes.
“Ryan Pierce,” he says into the handset.
“Someone send you?” he asks randomly.
“Yeah, Mac Johnson.”
“Mac Johnson,” he repeats into his hand.
A second later, Mr. Roly Poly is opening the door for me. “Must have a golden ticket. Go on in. Take a left once you go through the curtains. There’s a set of stairs in the back. Go all the way up and follow the hallway to the door on the end. Daniel is in his office.”
I walk through the empty club. It looks pretty much like all the other clubs I’ve seen. Except this one is scattered with stripper poles and has ring thingies hanging from the ceiling. What the fuck are those for?
I follow the bouncer’s instructions explicitly.
I climb the stairs, find the door, and knock.
“Come in,” he says, so I enter. I walk into the small room to find a guy in a straw cowboy hat and loud printed button up sitting behind a wooden desk. He looks up at me and smirks. “Ryan I presume?”
“That would be me.”
“Take a seat.”
I sit in the chair directly across from Daniel’s desk.
“Mac told me you need a job,” he begins.
“That’s why I’m here.”
“Hmmm hmmm,” he muses, like he’s trying to undress me with his eyes. It’s highly uncomfortable.
“Well. Stand up then and let me see the goods.”
“Excuse me?”
“This is a strip club kid. You work half nude. I can’t just hire anybody. I have to inspect the merchandise.”
Three and a half years in jail, and I never felt this degraded. It’s like I’m a cow on an auctioning block.
Daniel stares expectantly. “You gonna show me or not?”
I take a deep breath, then stand up slowly. This is humiliating.
“How much do you want to see?” I ask.
“Just take your shirt off.” He waves his pen at me while he checks something on his phone. I shrug off my jacket, well Mac’s jacket, then grab a fistful of shirt and drag it over my head. Daniel does a double take as I stand there wearing no top and loose fitting jeans.
He gulps. His blue eyes twinkling with something I can’t name. “You work out.”
I don’t reply. I’d rather not tell him where I acquired my tight chest and ripped abs.
“Sit down. You’re hired. On a trial basis. I have to make sure you can at least mix a drink. Although,” he ogles me, “with a body like that, if bartending doesn’t work out, I’m sure we can find something else for you to do.”
Lovely. I can only imagine what ‘something else’ could be.
I slip my shirt back on, and Daniel actually pouts. I wonder if he plays for the other team. He certainly acts like he does.
He hands me a clipboard. “Fill this out and I’ll call one of the other guys up to show you the ropes.”
“Sounds good.” I guess. Am I really going to do this?
I start filling out the mundane information. Name, address, past work experience. But when I get to one pertinent question I suddenly have second thoughts about this whole job idea. Have you ever been convicted of a felony? I put the pen down.
“On second thought.” I stand up and place the clipboard on his desk. “I don’t think this is going to work out.” I pick up my jacket and head for the door. Fast.
“Hold it,” Daniel says sternly, and I freeze. “Sit back down.” He suddenly sounds like a man you don’t want to mess with. I glare at him over my shoulder before I backtrack my steps and sit down crossly.
He looks at me squarely, removing his hat. His hair is thinning, and he has crow’s feet around his eyes. But he can’t be more than forty. “Mac told me about your situation. He said you took the rap for your brother. And if Mac says that’s the truth, I believe him. So…” He pushes the clipboard towards me. “If you want to answer no to a particular question. No one will be the wiser.”
I stare at Daniel silently. Is this guy for real?
“I want you kid. I won’t lie.” I think he means it in more ways than one. “You’ll be a good addition to this club.”
The moment of truth. I need a job. I need the money. Do I really need my dignity? Maybe not right this second. Plus I’m only bartending. It’s not like I’m working a stripper pole or anything.
I take the clipboard and finish filling out the application.
“Good.” Daniel takes it and puts it aside when I’m done. “Now we go over the rules. There aren’t many, but they are cardinal. First. We have a saying. Wrap it before you tap it.”
“What?” My eyes widen. Did I actually just hear him say that?
“Don’t look at me like I just slapped you kid. I’ll reiterate. This is a strip club, there will be women throwing themselves at you left and right. And sometimes you’ll give in to temptation. I have a feeling you’re going to get tempted way more than the others. It’s a natural, chemical reaction that happens just the way God intended. But that doesn’t mean you go around spreading STDs or knocking women up. There is protection coming out of every crevice of this club. Use it. Capisce?”
“Seriously? Every crevice?”
“Fuck yeah. Trust me when I tell you, you don’t want some Jersey juice head coming after you for giving him and his wife VD.”
“Did that actually happen?”
“Yes. That and much worse. Why do you think I keep a sumo wrestler at the door?”
“Point taken.”
And, just for the record, I would very much like to avoid contracting any type of venereal disease.
“Good. Now, second, you treat every woman like your best friend’s sister you want to fuck. You be polite, you be respectful, but you still flirt shamelessly unless they order you otherwise.”
“Do they usually order otherwise?”
Now I’m just being a smartass.
“Sometimes.”
“Anything else?”
“Yeah, did Mac give you the uniform?”
I cringe and pull the blue wad out of my jacket pocket.
“Perfect.” Daniel picks up the phone and dials a number. “Lorenzo, find Divan and send him up. New guy needs a tour.”
Holy. Shit.
Divan is a tall, good-looking, jacked black guy.
He’s also very mild mannered as far as I can tell. He’s shown me around the main room of the club, the VIP area, and the changing room. I get a locker to stash my stuff in, which is convenient, since I have to remove every stitch of clothing I have on. Once I change into my ‘uniform’ I meet him in the hallway. I feel ridiculous, exposed, and chilly.
“Looks good.” He hits me on the arm. “Your first night is always the toughest, then you get used to it. How much do you press? Those biceps look solid.”
“Last time I checked, one eighty.” I adjust my junk. It feels like my dick is choking. “Are these things supposed to be so tight?”
“Yeah, and you’ll be thankful for the snugness later.” He laughs.
“Why is that?”
“Because you’re going to pop an erection sooner or later, and those babies are going to keep it in check.” He snaps my waistband.
Oh for the love of all things holy.
“Wonderful.”
“Don’t knock it before you try it. Working here is the most fun you’ll have. Daniel is cool as shit, the money is good, and there are endless pieces of ass. Once you get over the stereotype you’ll love it.”
He actually doesn’t make it sound half bad.
“You’re going to work the male revue tonight, then cash out and move upstairs to one of the main bars. After the show, the lower level closes unless there is a private party, which there isn’t tonight.”
“Okay.” I follow him
through the club and then down a set of stairs. The room is dark with black leather furniture. Couches and chairs are set up in front of a small stage with a DJ booth behind it. There are two other guys behind the long bar adjacent to the stage. Both shirtless and wearing shiny blue briefs. Divan and I make our way behind the bar, and he introduces me.
“Ryan, this is Mike and Shayne.”
Mike shakes my hand; he’s a stocky short guy with dark hair and dark eyes. Very muscular. Shayne, he’s lean and skinny with platinum blond hair and chiseled facial features. He reminds me of a model. I put my hand out to shake, but he just breezes by me and slaps me on the ass instead. “Fresh meat!” he announces flamboyantly.
In a flash I have him shoved up against the wall. “Touch me like that again and it will be the last time you ever use your hands,” I seethe.
He looks at me like he’s about to shit himself.
“Whoa, whoa, whoa.” Divan breaks us up. “We’re all friends here. Shayne was just, being Shayne. He’s touchy-feely sometimes. But he’s harmless.” Divan throws him a behave look.
“Be touchy-feely with someone else,” I growl.
Divan pries my death grip loose from Shayne, then pulls me aside. “You a homophobe or something man?”
“No, I just have a problem with people touching me without my permission.” I try to shake off the memory of prison and all the advances made towards me.
“Well you better get over that, because you’re going to get touched. A lot. Especially when you work here, by both men and women alike. Can you handle that?”
“Yes.” I shake out my hands and crack my neck. “I was just caught off guard.”
“Okay.” Divan nods. I don’t know what it is, but I like him. “Go help Mike set up, and I’ll have a word with Shayne.”
Maybe that’s it. He’s a stand-up guy.
I help Mike fill the ice bins, restock the coolers, and wipe down the bar. Shayne keeps his distance.
A few minutes after we’re done Shayne saunters over to us. “Ready for the show?” he asks me, testing the waters. Everything will be fine, as long as he keeps all his appendages to himself.
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