by Sara Bushway
Selwyn let out a sigh of exasperation as she held fabric swatches up to his skin.
"Now, now, Erywyn. He's not a man in the sense of potential mate. He's just a client and a non-citizen at that. Albeit, one of the cleanest non-citizens I've ever had the pleasure of being this close to."
Honey wasn't sure whether to be happy about the compliment on being clean or offended that all non-citizens were seen as being dirty people. He decided not to address it. After all, the ladies both had a fair number of needles at their disposal and stayed quiet for the remainder of their visit. When they were finished, the ladies instructed him to wait there for Frank to come by and rushed themselves out to get started on his costumes.
It wasn't long before Frank came by. He seemed a bit surprised to find Honey moseying about the little room in his skivvies.
"Woah! You can put your clothes back on until they've got something ready for you."
"No thanks," Honey said.
Frank snorted, "Standing around nearly naked doesn't bother you in the slightest?"
Honey shrugged, eyeing some of the colorful bits and bobs on the make-up table. "Why should it? Aside from being all scarred up, there's nothing really wrong with my body."
"Right," Frank replied. "And I guess, considering what you used to do, half the world has probably seen and touched your body anyway. Sorry."
Honey shrugged again.
Frank smiled. "Once you've got some stuff to wear, we'll pick ya out some music, and you can take a couple of days to put together some dance routines. Just remember: some ladies don't like it when you go full-pickle--"
"Yeah, I know," Honey giggled. "Women like a little bit of mystery. Some men do too, but women especially like to be teased. Giving it all away to them makes them feel dirty."
Frank chuckled. "That's going to take some getting used to. You know the hell outta women, but again, I guess you would."
Honey grinned. "You have no idea."
*****
Honey quickly took to being a male stripper. Being the only healthy-looking one for miles made him that much more famous among the regulars and the newcomers Frank's advertising had brought in. It had only taken a matter of hours for his first few outfits to be ready and then another hour for Frank to get an artist to capture Honey's likeness. Initially, Honey questioned why Frank hadn't gotten an actual photographer or even someone who knows how to use a tintype. He suspected that, despite how the club seemed to have some of the finer luxuries like electric lights and music that filled the entire building from seemingly nowhere, Frank had dressed up the place and functioned on a rather modest budget. He also surmised Frank thought a hand-drawn likeness was a classier move. After all, an artist could fix whatever imperfections an expensively printed photograph or even a tintype might catch. The artist drew Honey's likeness in several different poses in each outfit, but when it came to his cowboy get-up, she drew him in every pose he could manage, including one where he lay in repose with a fake rose hanging out of his mouth and his hat tipped low over his face. When he was done, he was surprised to find that his scars hadn't been omitted and even took center stage on a few of the renderings.
"It's s-s-s-so the p-p-p-p-p... patrons know b-b-before they get h-h-h-here," she managed to stutter and pushed her glasses up to the bridge of her nose. They seemed to slide down her nose again as soon as she let go, but the fact that she had corrective eyewear at all made her unique, almost exotic. Corrective eyewear and braces for teeth had become a luxury that only the wealthiest civilians could afford unless you were fortunate enough to need those parts in good shape for your chosen profession. If you apprenticed under someone who was top of their field, they might pay for the corrective items so that their progenies could be the best of the field. All of the credit for their success was given to their masters anyway, so the best way to promote one’s self was to produce skilled masters who used their own famous techniques. Honey agreed that it would be unfair to falsely advertise his wares, but one thing Honey had learned both inside and out of the flesh business was that proprietors often didn't care to play fair with their patrons.
The advertisements worked well, much to the dismay of the girls. Initially, the female strippers Frank employed seemed to feel as though Honey was not only encroaching on their business but also on their right to be glittering goddesses among a sea of hungry-eyed men. The attention Honey was getting from their crowds, and the crowd he had brought in through Frank's advertising was a threat. Though it didn't take long for them to realize that he wasn't interested in sniping their customers. In fact, after Honey had earned the trust of some of them, he took great pleasure in helping the girls stretch, get dressed, and dolled up. He even taught them a few things he had learned in his time dancing in the lounge. He did find that some things didn't translate as far as the differences between how men dance and how women dance, but that strengthened his bond with the girls and made them feel less intimidated by his presence. When they told him so, he felt very surprised.
Intimidating? Me? he thought. I don't think I've ever intimidated anyone in my life.
Chapter Sixteen
Life at home continued to be wonderful. He loved living with the girls and continued helping with Nana, which he found a bit challenging during his first week on the job. He insisted on wearing heeled boots as he had in the lounge to make himself look as tall as some of the girls he worked with. Apparently, in the short amount of time he had spent being pampered at Anastasia's, his feet had gone soft, and his toes cramped in rebellion after a few songs, which made the rest of the night a painful ordeal. Still, it didn't take him long to get back into good enough shape to dance the night away on his stage. Nana and Menna continued to believe that Honey was working as a bartender and respected his space as far as staying out late and showering both late at night before he went to bed and again in the morning before breakfast. Sometimes, that's what it took to get the glitter out of his hair and the feeling of layers upon layers of sweat off of his body. He brought up helping pay bills again to Menna when he started showering more, but she insisted again that his help with Nana was more than enough. Within two weeks of beginning his new gig, Honey's earning's had outgrown the cigar-box he had found when cleaning out the little house. He enjoyed the irony of having enough money to need to buy a bigger box for his earnings but opted to start squirreling it away here and there. He started with a handful of coins in a sock, balling it into the other sock, and buried it in the bottom drawer of the dresser. After that, he continued finding creative ways to keep the money around without having to spend much of it on anything other than a few necessities that he needed to keep himself comfortable. Though, one thing he found he could not replace made him very sad. He eyed the last ounce of his lavender lotion and sighed. This was his last bottle, and he had yet to see a single traveling wagon since he left the mansion, let alone the man who sold his particular brand. Smelling it brought back fond memories of his former life with Loretta and the girls. Mending their clothes, tending their hair, and painting on their make-up had somehow made him feel whole. Since he left, he found himself always looking for something and began to wonder if he had made a mistake. He wondered how they were doing and if they missed him, especially if Loretta missed him. He picked up the little green bottle of Bryant's All-Natural Rose Oil and eyed the crack leading down from the gap in the lip of the bottle. It was getting worse over time, but the pretty, green glass still emitted her fragrance just the same. He hoped it would hold up for as long as it took him to get back to her. As much as he cared for Chroma the ladies, he craved to go back to Loretta. He had promised her that he was going to be back someday, and he intended to keep it.
*****
Honey sauntered into Sacred Mounds, waving at the muscles before disappearing into the employee hallway. He went to his prep room and proceeded to undress. His cowboy outfit hung on the back of the door. Honey smiled and danced around a little as he readied himself for the night, smearing glittery oil over
himself and through his hair, sporting his chaps, vest, and hat. The boots always went on last to help save his feet from any unnecessary abuse. He spotted Frank turning the crank behind his stage to charge the generator. It didn't need much power, just enough to turn the lights on and start the engine beneath the stage. The alternator would take care of the rest. Then it was showtime, his favorite part.
The stage stayed dark until his shift started, allowing the patrons to see a shadow of him leaning against the pole silhouetted on the backdrop. When the moment finally arrived, the electric lights around the edge of the stage all flipped on and beamed up at him, glitter shimmering in his skin and leather shining in the light. Then the music started, and life was good.
It was a slow night over-all. There were a few men sitting around Elia's stage watching her writhe in a strappy, bondage bodysuit and a few young bucks celebrating something, acting like fools in front of Vera's. Honey's seating area was empty, but he didn't mind it much. He still danced and basked in the attention of the few people who looked on from the bar area. They might not have been putting coins on the stage, but they certainly seemed interested. Then, toward the end of Honey's second song, a group of four came in and slowly walked by. Honey smiled and waved, looking coy about it, and kept on dancing. Three of the group members continued on, seating themselves in front of Elia's stage. The last one slowed to a stop and sat down in front of the catwalk of Honey's stage. Sitting at the end of the walk like that meant one thing: they wanted to watch him walk at them.
When the next song started, he danced around a bit before prancing halfway down the walkway and then crawling the rest of the way. As he approached the end, he looked down over the edge. It took a moment for him to figure out that it was a man. His features were soft and eyes large like that of a woman, but a hint of a blonde mustache below his button nose cleared up any doubts that Honey about his gender. He wore a sport-coat made of crushed blue velvet over white slacks and a matching white fedora atop long, blonde dreadlocks. He leaned onto a long, black cane, which struck Honey as odd because he didn't look much older than Honey himself. Honey looked around and smiled to himself as he spotted Vera sitting on her stage. She was pouting and watching the drunk boys stumble away toward the bar. It wasn't funny that she was upset. Honey thought she had a wicked pouty-face, and she knew it. Honey looked around at his own nearly empty seating and decided to work on his customer service skills. He slipped off the edge of the stage and pushed the man's cane aside as he crawled into his lap, and the man let him.
Honey wrapped his arms around him, fingering the little beads lodged in the man's long dreadlocks, and smiled at him.
"Hey there."
The man blushed and placed his cane in the seat next to him. "Hey." There was a short pause where the man looked uncomfortable. "I’m sorry. I've never been somewhere like this before. I'm just...having a rough day."
"That's ok," Honey said, leaning back a little to look at him. "I'm the new guy here. Well, the only guy here, but I just started not too long ago. So, I suppose we're both new at this." That wasn't entirely true, but it seemed to make newcomers feel good when he said it. Relative to some of the other dancers, he was still new and wasn't afraid to exploit that fact. The man nodded and watched him.
"So... you like doing this?"
Honey shrugged. "It's not bad. I like dancing and meeting new people, and I get to do both here. Between you and I, I don't have good feelings about the glitter."
The man laughed and looked around, uncomfortable again, so Honey kept the conversation rolling.
"I'm Honey. What's your name?"
"Your name is Honey? Is that your given name or...?"
"Yes," Honey confirmed with a nod. "That is my given name. And yes, I get that a lot. I came from a small district south of here."
"And a different industry, I'm guessing," the man quipped.
Honey blushed slightly but smiled it away and said, "Yes, I've come a long way from my roots in more than one way. And your name is?"
There was a noticeable pause, and then he said, "Kage."
"Kah-gay," Honey enunciated. "I don't think I've ever heard a name like that before. He sat back and put his hands on the man's face, brushing the edge of the man's thin mustache with his thumb. "You know, I think I could have guessed that. A beautiful name for a beautiful man." Honey looked deep into Kage's eyes, noting the bluish-purple color and how it set off the yellow of his blond dreads.
How interesting, he thought. I wonder how common that combination is. He looks almost like--
Kage pulled away from Honey and put his hand up between them. "That's enough."
Honey frowned and backed off. "I'm sorry. I didn't hurt you, did I? I haven't done many--"
"No, no. It's not you. It's just...nothing. Just go dance or something."
Honey hoisted himself back up onto the catwalk and went back to the safety of his pole. The pole never minded him dancing all up on it, so that's where he would stay to avoid causing any more discomfort. Despite his sudden change of heart about Honey's proximity, Honey spotted him placing a decent stack of coins on the edge of the stage.
He must not be that upset at me then, Honey decided. But then...what happened?
The next song started, and Honey continued dancing for his one viewer. He thought nothing of the arrival of two more patrons, though their unusual travelers' garb threw him off a little. They wore long tunics under leather armor and large packs on their backs. A woman with dark hair held back in tight braids and brown leather containing brassy studs and in-laid plates eyed the stages. A large man with hair mostly shaved except for a tiny, black braid dangled. He followed her in wearing thick, black leather armor that had been worked to have designs pressed into the armbands and chest plate that resembled a tangled mess of snakes. He was scanning the faces at the bar, his hand on the hilt of a large blade that hung from his belt. He seemed ready for anything. Then a third man came in behind them, trailing several feet behind.
Silas
The dark man seemed to move through everyone and everything like a shadow, unnoticed and unbothered by the world around him. A few uncomfortable moments passed while he strode through the room, eyeing the faces of the patrons. While Honey's gaze was locked on Silas, something had spooked the group that came in with Kage. Out of the corner of his eye, he watched them spring from their seats and run for the door. Silas was still stalking through the seating area when he spotted Honey watching him. Honey watched the barrel of a black revolver train on his face and dropped down onto his hands and knees. The woman with braided hair pulled an object from her belt that looked like a tube, and moments later, bow limbs sprung out of both ends. She quickly strung the ends of it together, knocked an arrow on her newly-created short-bow, and took aim at one of the men that had walked in with Kage.
"Halt, or I'll fire," she commanded.
Everyone in the club was in an uproar. Drunk patrons lumbered toward the door. The dancers all disappeared through doors leading to the hall behind the stages. Honey couldn't spot Silas but knew he was coming for him all the same. He pushed off the pole and slid down the catwalk, landing next to Kage, who had apparently stood to get a better view.
"You should go," Honey said. "I don't know who those two are, but that man over there is a very bad man." He gestured over to Silas and took Kage's arm. A bullet ricocheted off of the pole. Honey ducked and pulled at Kage's sleeve to bring him closer to the ground for cover, but Kage ignored his pulling and held his cane out like a sword. It began to glow red-hot like an iron in the fire.
Honey screamed, "What the heck are you going to do with that?" He could barely hear himself over the screams of the patrons and dancers and the sounds of battle. Kage never answered. He charged the gunman and swung his cane at the out-stretched arm. Flames roared behind the cane in an arc as it swung to meet its foe. Silas wailed and held his arm close to his body. Honey looked for the gun on the floor but couldn't find it among the chair legs and running feet.
Then he heard a deafening bang followed by the sounds of a crackling fire. A flaming ball the size of a billiard emitted from the end of Kage's cane and struck Silas in the shoulder of his right arm. Silas cried out again.
"What the hell was that!?" Honey exclaimed. If Kage had heard him, he never answered. Kage brought the cane up to swing it again, but Silas dropped to the ground and slithered past the ongoing battle between the big man with the machete and Kage's friends. Honey watched Kage struggle against himself to run after the attacker.
"You're one of them?" Honey asked. Kage blinked down at him. "Are they here for you?" Kage's features softened, and the cane returned to its shiny black finish. He looked sorry and just a little bit frightened.
"Are you alright?"
Honey was surprised by his sudden change in demeanor, like an angry grizzly that turned around and became a teddy bear. His revelation was interrupted by a loud crash across the room.
"Come on! Follow me!" Honey took him by the sleeve again and led him around the edge of his stage, up the steps, and to his stage door. "Take a left, go all the way down, and go out the door on the right. It'll lead you out."
Kage pulled out of Honey's grip again. "What about you?"
Honey looked back at the duo doing battle with the others behind him and then back. "I'm going to try to stay and help. I suspect you would do the same if you could." Kage opened his mouth to say something, but the words seemed to have escaped him.
Honey put his hand on the door and sighed, "I'm sorry you're having such a rough day. I hope it gets better."
Kage chuckled lightly and placed his hand on the door.
"You know, if this place doesn't burn to the ground, I might be back. Good day to you, Honey."
And, with that, he pushed his way through the door and disappeared down the hall.