Authors: Pender Mackie
Some of the others must have looked over, because Chaz turned and growled, “Mind your own fucking business.”
Someone muttered, “Asshole.”
Anger made his muscles tense and his hands shake, but the tremors weren’t noticeable, thank God. Deliberately Jesse reached out and opened his locker, forcing Chaz to move his hand. He was not going out for lunch with Chaz. No fucking way.
Chaz glared. “I’m trying to give him an opportunity to advance his career, not get into his pants.”
Jesse held his breath, but nothing happened. Maybe no one had taken that to mean anything. It didn’t necessarily have to mean he was gay. He exhaled carefully. He’d be ashamed about this later, but right now all he felt was relief.
Brad leaned in, his face sympathetic. “I’m coming to lunch too. Chaz has a big favor to ask of us. Right, Chaz?”
Jesse stared at him. He sort of trusted Brad, but the only thing he felt like doing for Chaz was some free dental surgery with his fist.
“You do this, you’ll be doing yourselves a favor. Not me,” Chaz grumbled from behind Brad.
Brad met and held Jesse’s gaze. He seemed to be trying to tell him something, but Jesse didn’t have a clue what that might be. “We’ll get together before rehearsal and grab something light. I’ll pick you up if you want.”
Brad wasn’t giving him much of a choice. “Fine.” He still didn’t want to have lunch with Chaz, and he sure as hell wasn’t going to let him pay for his meal. Chaz wasn’t offering to pick up the tab out of the goodness of his heart. He wanted something.
“Good. Now get out there, and show the customers a little appreciation.” Chaz poked his chest. “Then go home and get some rest. I don’t want you calling in sick. My oma had better moves than some of our ensemble guys.”
There was only one ensemble dancer in the show tonight—Jesse thought his name was Tyson—filling in for a dancer who’d twisted his ankle a couple of days ago. Jesse squirmed, embarrassed, even though he hadn’t made the comment. He checked to see if Tyson had heard. Judging by the way Tyson was glaring at the back of Chaz’s head, Jesse thought he had.
Chaz was oblivious. He strode off, and Jesse watched him hassle someone else. Brad touched Jesse’s arm and led him away from the other dancers and out of earshot. “He’s trying to talk the bigwigs into doing a new promo video, and he wants us to help.”
“There’ll be people from management there?” Jesse asked in alarm. Eating lunch with managers was not keeping a low profile. He didn’t want to bring any attention to himself or the fact that he was dating another employee.
“Relax. Tomorrow’s just a strategy session. Eric was supposed to come too, but he can’t make it, so it’s just you, me, and Mr. Congeniality.”
“Strategy session?”
Brad winked. “Well, Chaz gets to tell us all about his plans, and we nod approvingly.”
“Why me?” Jesse asked. Eric was the unofficial second in command, and Brad was a senior dancer, but Jesse was still the newbie. He wasn’t anyone important.
“Chaz knows his limitations. He needs friendly, sociable people to schmooze with the suits. And since rumor says the promo manager swings both ways, I think he wants some extra eye candy just in case. I’m guessing that’s you.”
“Shit.”
Brad read his expression correctly. “Tomorrow Chaz is gonna try to convince you to come to the meeting—if he gets one. But if you do, all you have to do is smile and look sexy. It’ll be just like a meet and greet. Don’t worry; it won’t be a big deal.”
“Chaz is right, you know. We could use a new video. You’re not even in the intro video we use now.”
“I’m in the posters,” Jesse argued. Immediately he thought of his parents’ visit. Too bad he hadn’t missed that photo op.
“Video’s a lot more expensive. That’s why we haven’t had a new one in two or three years. Besides…” Brad flashed a row of white, well-cared-for teeth. “Wouldn’t it be worth it just to watch Chaz trying to kiss ass?”
Jesse found himself grinning back. Seeing Chaz acting all sweetness and sunshine would be a rare experience. Jesse didn’t think their surly dance captain could do it. He wasn’t that good an actor.
Lunch started off okay. They went to a sandwich shop near the theater. The kind where an employee made your sandwich with customized toppings while you watched. Jesse had never been there before. He hadn’t even known about the shop since it was a few blocks off the strip, but the food was decent, the prices were good, and the tourists hadn’t discovered it, so it was quiet.
Chaz arrived a few minutes later and surprised Jesse by choosing a chef salad. Jesse had figured Chaz for a red-meat-loving kind of guy.
Once he sat down, Chaz got right to the point. “Did Brad fill you in?”
“I told him you’ve been trying to get a new video since last year,” Brad said.
Chaz nodded emphatically. “Damn right. Three of the guys in the one we use now aren’t even in the show anymore. It’s unprofessional.” He scowled. “I tried talking to admin again this morning, but it’s like talking to a fucking wall.”
Chaz’s mouth twisted. “Nothing. They wouldn’t even commit to a goddamn meeting.”
“Keep trying, Chaz. You’ll make them come around,” Brad said soothingly. “Right, Jesse?”
Brad’s faith seemed to calm Chaz. He poked at his salad. “If they wanted to boost ticket sales, they wouldn’t be so cheap. They’d give us the budget for an outdoor shoot. We could film at a couple of Vegas landmarks and do backstage interviews with each dancer.” He sat up straighter. “We should be touring like those fucking chipmunks, not stuck in some rinky-dink theater with piss-poor lighting and an outdated sound system.”
Jesse wasn’t about to say anything, but Brad caught his eye and gave him a subtle headshake. Jesse concentrated on eating his sandwich.
By the end of the lunch, against his better judgment, he’d agreed to attend the promo budget meeting along with Brad, Eric, and Chaz, if Chaz could set one up.
As they stood to leave, Chaz announced, “Jesse will ride back with me.” Brad’s eyebrows rose. “He came with me. It’s no trouble to drive him over.” Chaz shook his head. “You go on ahead. I want to talk to him about changing up
It wasn’t okay, but there wasn’t much he could do about it without looking like a wimp. He nodded. “Sure. We’ll see you there.”
“Okay.” Brad cast one last troubled look over his shoulder as he left while Chaz made a big production of gathering up and getting rid of his trash.
“I gotta take a leak.” Chaz headed for the men’s room, leaving Jesse fuming. He could have gone with Brad instead of standing here like an idiot.
Chaz came back almost immediately, and as Jesse followed him out to the parking lot, he wondered if Chaz’d actually had time to use the bathroom or if he was just waiting for Brad to drive off.
They got in. Chaz started the car, but he sat there gazing out the windshield, letting the air-conditioning run. Jesse waited, silent.
“The show is important to me,” Chaz said. “I take a lot of pride in our work. You know that.” Chaz flicked him a look as if to check he was listening.
“Sure.”
Chaz sounded different. He was choosing his words carefully instead of being his usual brash, abrasive self. Jesse’s internal alarms kicked in.
“Sometimes I ask you to do things that might make you uncomfortable, but it’s good for the show, and in the long run, it’s good for your career.”
Jesse didn’t like where this was going. “Chaz—”
“The promo manager comes to see the show sometimes. He watches from backstage. You’ve probably seen him. Andrew, tall, thin, dark hair and glasses? Awkward looking?” Chaz pressed his hands against the steering wheel. “He likes the show. I think he likes your routine.”
Jesse had seen the man a couple of times. He’d wondered why a man in khakis and a button-down shirt would be hanging out backstage, but he’d assumed it was a brother or maybe a friend of one of the other dancers.
“Why are you telling me this?” Jesse folded his arms across his chest. He had a pretty good idea, but he hoped he was wrong. He had to be wrong.
Jesse twisted to face Chaz. “What exactly are you saying?”
Chaz did turn then. For a second Jesse thought the dance captain almost looked shamefaced, but the expression was gone before he could be sure. Chaz’s lips thinned, and he raised his head determinedly. “He likes men as well as women. Flirt with him like you do with the customers. Tell him you want to do the video. Offer to have a drink with him.”
“And then what?” Jesse could barely get the words past the knot of red-hot fury clogging his throat. He sucked in a scorching lungful of air. “Offer him a handjob? A blowjob? Should I get down on my knees and suck him off?”
He was shouting now, spraying spit. “What are you going to do if I don’t? Out me? Tell everyone that I’m watching them and jerking off over them when I get home? You think creating that kind of environment backstage would be good for your goddamn show?”
Chad was looking at him as if genuinely puzzled by his outburst. “Jesus, calm down, Jesse. If he wasn’t AC/DC, I wouldn’t ask. Anyway, it’s not like you’re married to Val. A little serving on the side never hurt anyone.”
Jesse opened the car door. “Here’s an idea, Chaz. You want your video so fucking bad, you suck him off. I’m sure he won’t care if you’re straight as long as you ‘take pride in your work.’” He jumped out, slammed the door shut, and started walking.
Jesse hit the strip, but he didn’t go to the theater. He couldn’t deal with the other dancers or rehearsal just now. He headed in the opposite direction and kept right on going.
Tourists often thought they could sightsee by walking from one end of the strip to the other. It didn’t look that far, maybe a mile or so, but that was an optical illusion. The strip was over four miles long. The size of the enormous hotels—many of them with close to five thousand rooms—made them look much closer than they really were.
Jesse walked just about the entire length, and as he walked, he did some hard thinking. He’d moved to Vegas because he liked the original casinos with their tawdry glitter and glamour, and he’d liked the city’s devil-may-care attitude. He’d intended to start a new life here. To live as a gay man, out of the closet and unafraid.
But Vegas had changed since his mother had pasted her pictures in her photo album. Many of the old-time casinos had been razed to the ground, and the new hotels were bigger, slicker, and except for Fremont Street, most of the neon signs Jesse had liked so much were gone. Now the Tourism Bureau promoted Vegas as a sophisticated playground.
Even the famous WELCOME TO FABULOUS LAS VEGAS sign had been a disappointment. It sat alone at the south end of the strip, in the middle of the boulevard as cars zipped past its grassy island. Jesse walked down that way sometimes, strangely drawn to the old, abandoned rancher-style motels with their faded paint and cracked, weed-filled parking lots.
Nothing had worked out the way he’d expected. Instead of a new life, he’d taken a job that made it easy to stay closeted, and by doing so he’d given Chaz the opportunity to blackmail him if he didn’t do as he was told. He’d gotten himself in a real mess.
Would Chaz out him if he didn’t have drinks with the promo manager? So what if he did get outed? He no longer gave a damn what any of the other dancers thought. He glared at an aggressive water vendor, waving him away. Maybe this newfound, razorsharp attitude would fade with his anger, but right now he was ready to tell the world to go screw itself.
When he showed up for the show that night, he’d made a few decisions. He’d decided not to say anything to Val about what had happened once Brad left the sandwich shop. Val would be furious, and Jesse was afraid he’d go looking for Chaz and maybe do something that would jeopardize his job. Besides, it was about time Jesse took care of his own problems. Regardless of what Chaz told the others, he would look for a new job, maybe in a gay-friendly restaurant. It wasn’t too late to start his new life. Coming out to coworkers at a restaurant seemed a lot less daunting that coming out to a bunch of straight guys he showered and undressed around every day. And changing his job would take some of the strain off his relationship with Val and eliminate the issues caused by his parents’ visit.
He walked into the dressing room nervous but resolute. No matter what happened here, he could handle it. Even if it was as bad as high school—or worse—he’d be leaving soon, so he wouldn’t have to deal with homophobic slurs for long.
As he reached his locker, Chaz glared at him and stomped off, shoving open the door to the hallway and letting it bang shut behind him.
Brad looked up at the sound of the door slamming and saw Jesse. He hurried over, his eyes filled with worry. “Chaz is madder than a wet hen, and I don’t think it’s just because you missed rehearsal. What happened after I left the restaurant?”
“Did he say anything?”
Jesse hesitated. Chaz hadn’t told Brad what happened, which could mean he wasn’t willing to admit exactly what he’d asked Jesse to do, or he was still hoping Jesse would agree. And since Chaz looked angry enough to spit nails, the second reason was more likely.