The Guys Next Door

by Amber Thielman

  “School is over, Audrey. Like, really over.”

  “But I—”

  “I’m sorry, Ms.—?” Mr. Devereaux stepped up and around me, holding out his hand politely. I was somewhat surprised he hadn’t bolted yet. “I’m Jake Devereaux, Olivia’s history teacher.”

  “Audrey Bell,” she said, taking his hand. “I’m their aunt. What’s happened?”

  “You forgot us at school,” I said, and then looked down at my feet where a chocolate chip cookie was chilling by the toe of my shoe. “You reached into the oven with no mitts?” I tried not to sound too astonished because I knew she was naïve to the whole Betty Homemaker aspect of life—but it was difficult not to seem too shocked.

  “I didn’t even think about it,” Audrey said. “I heard someone come in through the front door, and I got distracted.” She turned to the sink and let the cold water run over her burned fingers. “And what do you mean, I forgot you? School isn’t out until five.”

  “School ends at three-thirty, actually,” said Mr. Devereaux. He didn’t seem mad like I had been. “It’s out at three-thirty for both the high school and middle school.”

  “No, it isn’t.”

  “Yes,” he said. His tone was patient, and I admired him for it. “It is.”

  “I don’t think that—” Audrey trailed off then as if just realizing that she was wrong. She let out a long breath of air, and for a moment, I wondered if there would be a smack down in the kitchen. I imagined her lunging at him, shrieking about how wrong he was, but to my great relief, she tried nothing.

  “Jesus. I’m so sorry, Liv,” she said finally. “Where’s your brother?”

  “Upstairs.” I leaned down to pick up the stray cookie before tossing it into the trash bin. Audrey looked back at Mr. Devereaux.

  “You must think I’m an idiot,” she said. “I’m really not this daft. I appreciate you giving them a ride.”

  I had to bite my tongue to keep from telling Mr. Devereaux she was this daft.

  “It was no problem,” Mr. Devereaux said. For some odd reason, he was smiling. The situation was anything but amusing. Then again, Audrey hadn’t forgotten about him.

  “I’m sorry,” she said again, and then looked at me. “I’m not too good at this mother thing, am I?”

  I tried not to cringe when she said “mother,” and instead I forced a smile and picked up a cookie from the counter. At least it was cleaner than the floor. I took a bite, about to assure her that the baking was excellent, but my taste test was too soon. I gagged as the cookie touched my tongue, and with panic, I spat it back out, sputtering.

  Mr. Devereaux took one giant step back as the chewed-up cookie sprayed across the linoleum.

  “Oh my God!” I cried.

  Audrey stepped aside, her head tilted to the side in alarm. She looked so much like a scolded puppy dog I almost couldn’t bring myself to point out her mistake. “What?”

  “Hold on a minute,” I grumbled and tilted my mouth under the running water in the sink. I rinsed twice and spat it out, trying to rid myself of the taste. After a few seconds, I straightened up and raised my eyebrows at my aunt. “Audrey—what sugar bowl did you use for these cookies?” Without taking her eyes off me, Audrey pointed to the right where a large container was sitting up against the wall. I crossed the kitchen and placed my hand on the tin, sliding it around so the front was facing us. “Can you read that?” I asked her. In big, black, bold letters, it read SALT.

  There was a beat of dead silence between the three of us as Audrey calculated her mistake. After a good thirty seconds of only shocked silence, she burst into ear-shattering laughter. “I’m so sorry, honey!” she giggled. “I—don’t know how that happened!” She doubled over with laughter, her blond curls wild around her face and tears streaming from her eyes. “Honest to God, I am so sorry!” She straightened up, struggling to regain her composure. “I haven’t used anything in this kitchen but the fridge and blender since I’ve lived here!”

  “No kidding,” I said, finding the situation less amusing. She hadn’t stuck one of those cookies in her mouth.

  Behind me, Mr. Devereaux was laughing. “I better get going,” he said between chuckles. “I’ll see you in class tomorrow, Olivia. And it was nice to meet you, Mrs. Bell.”

  “It’s Ms.,” Audrey said with a giggle that made her sound like a high school prom queen. “And please, call me Audrey.”

  “Ms. Bell will be fine!” I shouted, watching Mr. Devereaux leave. Audrey closed the door behind her and locked it, still looking embarrassed, but also flustered and red in the face.

  “Tomorrow I’ll remember,” she promised. I shrugged half-heartedly, wondering if I could do stand-offish as well as Noah could.

  “It’s no big deal,” I said. “Noah was a little bit worried, you know, but Jake Devereaux came to the rescue.” I knew I had caught her when Audrey’s face flushed an even deeper shade of red than moments before. She cleared her throat and brushed a strand of blond hair behind one ear.

  “History teacher?” she asked. “He’s—cute.”

  “Oh, God.”

  “What? It was just a statement.”

  “He’s probably married with ten kids,” I said. I had no idea if that was true or not, but I wasn’t in the mood to stroke Audrey’s ego. I watched her shrug half-heartedly as she reached for her jacket and slid it on before leaning down to pull on a pair of stylish suede boots. “Are you going somewhere?” I asked.

  “To the club,” she said, straightening up. “The show starts in a couple of hours. I want to make sure my choreographer is doing the job I hired her to do.”

  I hesitated by the kitchen door, thinking of Audrey’s friends Avery and Marisol and how much fun they were to be around. I opened my mouth to say something and then closed it, not certain of what I would even say. Audrey caught my gaze and smiled.

  “Want to join me?” she asked

  “Really?” I tried not to sound astonished, but it was difficult. “Am I even allowed to be there?”

  “As long as you don’t talk Mari into selling you booze, I don’t see why not,” she said.

  “What about Noah?” I thought about my little brother, alone upstairs in his room, and felt an ache tug at the strings of my heart.

  “I’ll ask him if he wants to come along. If not, we’ll make tonight a girl’s night out,” Audrey said. I could tell she was trying to act perky and excited about it but trying to talk to Noah was like talking to a wall. I gathered up my jacket and purse as Audrey went upstairs. I could hear her speaking to him, offering a ride if he wanted to come along, but he turned her down. I knew he was still angry that she had forgotten to pick us up, but I felt a stab in my heart for Audrey. She could only try so hard and fail so often before it would stop being worth the effort.

  A moment later, she came back down the stairs and grabbed her purse. She was forcing a smile, I could tell, but I knew that as soon as we were out of the house, the mood would lighten up if we allowed it.

  “Ready?” she asked.

  I nodded and followed her out the door, pushing thoughts of my sad and angry little brother out of my mind. I was determined to enjoy tonight, even if I was hesitant to leave him. But I hadn’t been without my brother aside from school, and now I was walking away willingly. I tried not to let it nag at me too deeply, though. Audrey and I could have fun even without Noah there. She deserved it, and I sure as hell did, too.

  By ten o’clock that evening people were lining up outside the door. Under the huge, neon green sign that flashed the letters, The Guys Next Door, there looked to be fifty people waiting. Audrey’s bouncer, Malcolm, a large, big-bellied black man with dark shades and a gold-toothed grin; stood in front of the door keeping the giddy girls from getting through early.

  I sat on one of the stools at the bar, watching my aunt flutter from place to place to make sure everything was running smoothly. Marisol, who was already taking vodka shots behind the bar, looked ready to take on the night. I hadn’
t seen Avery yet, and that bummed me out. He seemed kind of cool.

  “What’s the first number tonight?” Audrey called to an empty building. From behind the stage, presumably from a costume room, came a male’s reply.

  “Ride a Cowboy.”

  I heard the song title and giggled, but Audrey looked pissed. “I thought you guys were dropping that one,” she shouted. Her heels click, click, clicked on the tile as she walked. “Didn’t we all agree it was becoming over-used, or was I speaking to myself?”

  “Probably to yourself,” Marisol said, sliding a glass of juice across the bar counter. “So, what’s new?”

  “Aw, come on. Relax, Aud. It’s a fan favorite,” someone else said. I looked up as a man walked out onto the stage. He was smiling. Much like Avery, this guy, too, was shirtless. That was all right by me. My mouth dropped open as this guy stood at the edge of the stage, shielding his eyes so he could see out toward the bar. I stared at the man’s chiseled chest and sculpted biceps. He was of darker ethnicity, much like Marisol, and he had his black hair slicked back in a macho man hairdo. I swiveled my seat a little bit to get a better view, and that’s when he noticed me.

  “You there!” he shouted, startling me. My heart skipped a beat, and I felt myself almost sliding off my stool. “You look a little young to be sitting at the bar.” At first, I thought he was serious, but a moment later, a smile curled on his lips. Even his teeth were sparkling white. He could have been a model. I watched as he took a leap off the stage and came toward me, his hand extended. “You must be Audrey’s niece, Olivia.”

  “That’s me,” I said, and took his massive hand in mine. He winked at me, unruffled that he was walking around with no shirt on making people swoon. By people, meaning me.

  “I’m Eduardo,” the man said. “But just call me Ed.”

  “Nice to meet you, Ed.” I giggled. Yes, I giggled like a six-year-old, and my face burned hot. Ed didn’t seem to notice, or care, as he stepped around me and leaned up against the bar counter. He flashed that dazzling smile once more, but this time it was for Marisol.

  “My beautiful Mari,” he said with a perfect Latino accent. “How are you tonight?”

  “I’d be better if you got your sweaty arms off my bar counter,” Marisol said. I turned to look at her, shocked by her tone of voice. This was not how she had joked and flirted with Avery. There was something else going on here.

  “Spicy, as usual,” murmured Ed. “I like it.” He leaned forward, and Marisol’s eyes narrowed. It was enough to send a shard of ice through my bloodstream, and it wasn’t even aimed at me.

  “Go,” Marisol said. “Now.” Ed stepped back. He looked rattled now, but he fought to keep his composure. I had to give him credit; had Marisol looked at me like that, I probably would have curled up in the fetal position and cried. Ed, however, only winked at her and then turned away, averting his attention back.

  “Enjoy the show, sweetheart,” he said. I watched him vanish back into whatever off-stage room he had appeared from, and then I turned back to Marisol.

  “Should I ask?” I said. Marisol sighed and rolled her eyes, but she looked more relaxed with him gone.

  “Man drama, honey. They’re not worth it. Take my word for it.” When I didn’t answer, she went on. “Ed and I used to be a thing until I found him drunk-kissing my sister late one night in this club.” She looked pissed again as she recalled the memory. “He’s just a dog.” On the other side of the building, I could hear Audrey shouting about something. Apparently, her composed manner was lost during Ed’s appearance.

  “Tyler must be here,” said Marisol, and then she laughed. I felt like I was missing the joke as I turned in my seat and watched as Audrey came storming out of the back room. She was hot on somebody’s heels—a very sexy somebody. Although this one was dressed in a shirt and jeans, he was more my guy. Tall, dark and handsome.

  “What did you do this time, Ty?” called Marisol. “Sleep with another one of the girls?” The guy she called Tyler approached the bar and tossed back the shot Marisol poured for him. He slammed the glass down, and she poured him another. Audrey still looked to be fuming at the ears as she got in his face, slamming her palm down on the bar.

  “Yes, he did,” she snapped. “And we had another complaint on him punching some guy out Friday night.”

  “He deserved it. He was an asshole,” said Ty. He turned around then, noticing me, and took his last shot of booze before he turned away from Audrey. “Olivia, right?”

  “Um. Yeah.”

  “Good to meet you.” He didn’t smile or offer his hand, so I turned away, not wanting to get in the middle of whatever they were arguing about.

  “You need to stop beating people up,” said Audrey. She leaned toward him, her eyes serious. “I don’t want to fire you, Ty. I really don’t. But one more complaint and I—”

  “Relax, honey,” said Ty. He backed away and smiled at her, putting his hands up, as if to surrender. “You can’t lose me. I’m the star of the show.”

  “He wishes,” said another voice. A feminine voice.

  “You’re here!” I said, thrilled to see him.

  Avery stopped, bowed, and then straightened up and winked at us before taking my hand in his and kissing the top.

  “Are you ready for a banging show tonight, baby doll?” he asked me. I was nodding, but Audrey was already pushing him toward the back. I watched them go, bummed, wondering if I would get to see Avery again after the show.

  “Half an hour!” she yelled. “You’re on in thirty minutes, gentlemen, so let’s see you charm those ladies.” Behind me, Malcolm opened the front door and stood to the side gathering money and tickets as people piled in. They were women, all, and they all looked dolled up in their short skirts, tight tops, cute hairdos, and thick makeup. I wondered if they had any idea that one dancer was as gay as a daffodil.

  “Get your drinks for the show, ladies!” shouted Marisol over the crowd. “Buy a shot, get one free.”

  I hopped down from the bar stool, afraid to be mauled, and fought my way out of the crowd. I headed for the back hoping to find a quiet place before the show started. I stepped around the corner and saw Ty, who spotted me and waved me over. I followed him into a closed off room where Audrey and Ed were sitting on a couch, conversing about the show. The room was jam-packed with closets and hangers full of costumes. There were costumes of every shape and size. Some glittered and glistened, while others were made from a skimpy material like lace. A few even looked like Halloween costumes; Superman, Batman, and even a kitty costume. Aside from the strange attire, there were also tons of props. Umbrellas, decorated chairs—it was awesome.

  “Remember the golden rule, gentlemen,” Audrey was saying as Ty removed his shirt and kicked off his pants.

  I turned away, flushing, but he didn’t seem to notice. Neither did Audrey as a stone-cold sexy man stripped down right in front of her.

  “I want every woman in this building to feel special tonight,” Audrey continued. “I don’t care if they’re tall, fat, thin, beautiful, young, or old—I don’t care if they have chronic acne, braces, greasy hair, everyone—and I mean everyone—gets a moment of undivided attention tonight. They come here to see you guys dance, but they pay us to feel special for a night. All of them.”

  “Gotcha, babe,” said Ed.

  “I hear you, honey,” said Avery from the back. He came around the corner, saw me, and bowed. I almost fainted when he was dressed in only a shiny gold speedo.

  “You’re embarrassing the girl,” said Ty, who himself was in only briefs. “Pull it together, Avery.”

  “I’m going to go wait out front,” I mumbled. Ty laughed, and I flushed. There was too much estrogen going on in here.

  “Enjoy the show, baby,” called Avery. I waved over my shoulder before hurrying back out to the bar, which had finally cleared out for the most part. Now all the women were flocking the stage, jazzed up drinks in hand, screaming in anticipation. I stuck my finger in my ear
and twisted it.

  “Is it like this every night?” I called to Marisol. She poured me a glass of cranberry juice and pushed it over, nodding.

  “Every show,” she confirmed. “The ladies can’t get enough. Most of them are return customers, too.”

  “They pay money every time to get just one dance from a hot guy in a speedo?” I asked. “That’s ridiculous.”

  “You haven’t seen them dance!” Marisol said with a wink.

  I turned around with my juice and sipped it, watching the women clamber over each other to get closest to the stage. I glanced at my watch to see what time it was, and that’s when the lights in the building dimmed. I set down my drink and grinned, feeling giddy as the women in the place all shrieked and hollered. After another moment, the opening of a song played. I recognized it immediately: “Save a Horse, Ride a Cowboy.”

  “They dance to this?” I called.

  Marisol laughed and nodded, all the while I tried to envision Avery shaking his booty to a song like this. The screaming women got louder, and the lights shone on the stage. Pastels of green, blue, and red flashed around the room, and the music grew. A moment later, the curtain rose, and the first dancer appeared on stage. It was Ty.

  Seeing handsome Ty in only assless chaps and a cowboy hat nearly gave me a heart attack. I slid off the stool and stood up, squinting to get a better look. He raised his arms, thrust his groin toward the screaming girls, and then danced. His body moved seductively to the music, muscles rippling and skin glistening under the lights. Minutes later, Ed and Avery joined him. Considering the way Avery was dancing for the screaming women, never in a million years would one have guessed he was gay. As I watched them, my face and neck burned under my top. The screaming in the room was phenomenal, especially when the guys took turns pulling the women on stage for lap-dances. I had seen nothing like it before in my life—not even in the movies.

  “Jesus,” I said, and sat back down before I fell. I turned back to Marisol, who was watching them dance with a grin. “I think I understand now.”