Tricks

Chapter 1-3

Now it was time for the part Arliss hated the most (and the part he had to reluctantly admit was where he actually made his real money). Yes, boys and boys, it was time for him to “mingle,” to “shake his moneymaker” and pray it didn’t fail him.

With dancing, he could at least go somewhere else, whether it was simply thinking about whether he should buy those jeans he had seen downtown at H&M or remembering a trip to St. Petersburg Beach with his mom when he was a kid. He could allow himself to simply respond to the music, to lose himself in it, turning down the whistles, the “Woofs,” and the whispered come-ons to a dull roar.

But when he had to move along the bar, hustling for tips, he was forced to engage with the customers (as Emmett would have said). He had to make true—and not fake—eye contact. He had to listen to whispered propositions in his ear as though he were hearing them for the first time, wearing an intrigued smile as if the whisperer was saying something new and not the same old tired lines he and his coworkers had heard a million times. Can I come backstage with you, man, I mean, you know, come, if you get my drift? What are you up to later, big boy? My boyfriend has nine inches, and we have a penthouse on Lake Shore Drive if you want to come by. I am so f*****g alone, I need someone like you. You are the hottest thing I’ve ever seen. Let me show you how I can swallow that d**k, take it up my ass, make you feel things you’ve never felt before. I have a Platinum American Express card with your name on it. I have T. I have G. I have X. What time do you get off? I mean, really get off? Arliss would throw back his head and laugh or pretend to actually consider their propositions or even occasionally reach out and stroke a grizzled face, pretending he found it hot while all the while thinking how he couldn’t wait to get back to the dressing room and its sink and disinfectant soap.

But the guys ate it up. And in the six months Arliss had been an official employee of the club, he had yet to run across a man who detected he wasn’t really feeling the image he projected. And when they ate it up, they threw money at him (or creased it and placed it in the crack of his ass or under his balls). Arliss didn’t really like it when they grabbed his d**k, fondled his balls, or fingered his ass, but it was all part of a day’s work for him, and he knew if he was going to make serious money, he had to at least pretend to enjoy it. And once he leapt from the bar and moved into the crowd, the gropes got more serious, but often, so did the size of the tips. Arliss knew if he acted his part well, he could walk out with two or three hundred dollars in his pocket, sometimes more, especially on weekend nights.

And that’s what he had to tell himself as he moved down the bar, staring at the faces of these men who jeered, laughed, and never once saw him as a human being, but only as an extension of their lust, their twisted need. Most of them were okay. Middle-aged guys who were probably just lonely and needed the boost they could get from a drink and a smile from a pretty boy. But some of them were downright creepy, like the guy two stools down with the pale blue eyes that were almost colorless, the shock of unkempt gray hair, and the sallow complexion. He sat, expressionless, holding up a folded twenty-dollar bill. The way he held the bill aloft, the boredom on his face, put Arliss in mind of a person holding a treat out for a dog—a dog he didn’t much care for. Arliss almost wanted to pretend he didn’t see him. There was something creepy and, worse, dead in his weird eyes, but the allure of the cash proved to be too much. He squatted before the creep, who proceeded to crook his finger at him, like Arliss was his servant. Arliss moved closer so he could whisper in his ear. Arliss placed his ear near the guy’s thin lips, expecting to be propositioned, to be told there was a lot more where the twenty came from. It wouldn’t be the first time.

“You’re a worthless piece of shit.”

Arliss was too stunned to do much as the guy wet his finger and slipped it up his butt. He then withdrew it and crammed the twenty up his ass, almost beyond where Arliss could reach it. He grabbed Arliss’s arm almost painfully, pulling him close enough that he could smell the guy’s sour breath, and whispered, “You’ll just clean the s**t off of it, won’t you? Just like you clean the s**t off all the guys’ d***s that go up your diseased ass…you f*****g whore.”

Arliss felt like an electric jolt passed through him with the pointed cruelty of the words. For several moments he just stopped, doing something he had never done. He lost the smile, the painted-on expression of having fun, and simply stared at the man, wondering why he had picked him to be the target of his cruelty.

And then, like the trouper he was, the mask slipped back into place. Arliss smiled once more and continued down the bar.

There was one younger guy sitting just a few more stools down Arliss had seen earlier and really wanted to flirt with…and not just pretend. He had noticed him as he danced and couldn’t help but think how out of place he looked here at Tricks. He was good-looking in a geeky sort of way, with straight, dark brown hair, a baby face, and dark-framed glasses. Unlike almost everyone else in the bar, who were dressed more casually, he wore a light blue button-down shirt with a red-and-blue striped tie hanging loose around his neck.

Arliss picked up immediately that the guy knew he didn’t belong here, but more than that, he was sad. There was something in his face that aroused something in Arliss. Compassion maybe?

But just as he managed to yank the twenty out of his ass and continue his way down the bar, he saw the guy get up quickly and leave. In that flash of movement, no more than a second or two, he could see the disgust on the guy’s face and felt a flash of crimson heat rise to his own.

But there was no time to tell him to wait, that he did this just for the money, that he hated having currency stuffed up his butt, because all Arliss saw was a flash of the guy’s broad back as he pushed through the crowd and out the door.

Arliss lit up his face with another smile and winked at the next guy along the bar, but he couldn’t seem to take his gaze away from the door, wondering about missed opportunities.