Authors: Pender Mackie
“Listen up, Jesse. These women are buying a fantasy. They look at us up onstage, they want to think that you’re turned on, that they can seduce you, get you to fuck them.”
Jesse’s gaze flicked over to Brad, busy blow-drying his hair.
“They don’t want to know you’ll happily bend over for other men.” “Chaz, I don’t—” Chaz reached out and poked Jesse in the chest. Jesse jumped and hated himself for
it. The corner of Chaz’s mouth lifted. The asshole was enjoying this. “Even if you can’t get it up for pussy, you need to make them believe. Can you do that?” He smiled slyly. “I’d hate to have to tell anyone you’ve got a problem with the ladies.”
Chaz couldn’t fire him. But there were lots of subtle ways he could make Jesse’s life miserable, even if he didn’t out him to the other dancers. And he could get Val in trouble too if he knew they were dating.
“I can do that.” His voice came out sounding reedy.
“Good.” Chaz’s lips split into a grin. His glossy black hair and too-white teeth reminded Jesse of the time he’d taken his garbage out and seen a dead crow near his building’s dumpster. The crow had been crawling with maggots. His stomach lurched, and his throat closed up.
Jesse took a couple of jerky steps over to the bench between the rows of lockers and sat down, fighting nausea. “Sure.”
Chaz stood there, gauging his reaction. He must have been satisfied, because he said, “Good man. See you tonight, Jesse.”
The dressing room door swung shut behind him.
Jesse lowered his head and took slow, careful breaths. He hadn’t felt this level of stomach-twisting anxiety since high school after he’d accidentally outed himself to a friend who couldn’t keep his mouth shut.
In hindsight voicing his admiration for his favorite movie star—and fantasy fodder—had not been a smart move. Something in his tone, his expression, must have given him away.
As they’d walked home from the movie theater, he’d babbled enthusiastically even as the other boy had stopped responding and started frowning.
“You like him.”
“Yeah, he’s a great actor and a good person too. I heard he even donates to Amnesty International and the Sierra Club. Not just money, but his time.”
“No, you
like him
, like him.”
He’d never been good at reading other people, but finally his sense of selfpreservation had kicked in.
“No, I don’t. Not like that.”
It was too late.
“You’re a fag.”
The other boy’s face had screwed up in disgust.
“I was friends with a fag.”
Jesse had denied it vehemently, but the damage was done. In his tiny town, to admit he was gay was social death, so he’d done the only thing he could think of to salvage his reputation. He’d launched himself at his former friend and gotten a couple of good punches in before he got his ass kicked.
He’d limped home, nose bloody, mouth and knuckles swollen, and spent the rest of the weekend hiding in his room pretending he had a stomach bug. Since his “illness” left his parents shorthanded, they’d been too busy running their diner to figure out he’d been fighting, or why.
When the weekend was over and he’d had to go back to school, he really did feel ill, but he went. That day and the rest of the school year were a nightmare. No one else beat him up, but his books were “accidentally” knocked out of his hands. Jocks openly sneered at and taunted him. One or two seemed to take malicious pleasure in making his life miserable, especially Ben, who was like a younger, meaner Chaz.
Every time he’d spoken up in class, someone had muttered,
“Fag.”
Girls had giggled and whispered. Boys shrank away from him. Even the nerdy kids wanted nothing to do with him.
Jesse didn’t blame them. They were like him, just trying to make it through high school. They didn’t need to borrow more trouble and be labeled fags by association. He was an untouchable, a social pariah. His last year of high school had been the loneliest year of his life.
The sounds of the blow-dryer stopped. Jesse scrubbed his face. He was an adult now, not some scared, skinny teenager. No one was going to stuff him in a locker or tape a KICK ME sign to his back. If Chaz decided to out him, he’d survive.
Anyway, he didn’t think Chaz was actually homophobic. Chaz knew Mike was gay, and since Mike had helped Jesse get the job and they were friends, Chaz had probably suspected Jesse was gay from the day he’d started. Chaz had never said or done anything to indicate he had a problem with gays. Maybe Jesse was overreacting, but in his mind’s eye he could still see Chaz’s smile. The same lazy smile he used on the women.
Jesse stood. His stomach felt better, but all that adrenaline from his fight-or-flight response was still coursing around in his blood and making him shaky. He glanced down at his hands. He’d gripped the cheap towel so hard he’d ripped it. He turned to face his locker and got dressed.
Val was happy his phone rang, even before he saw that Jesse was the caller. He snapped the lid of his laptop closed, mentally thumbing his nose at the taunting blank page and its smug blinking cursor.
Heh. Try blocking that.
“Good. Fine. Listen, Val…”
Val sat up. Jesse wasn’t canceling their date, was he? “Yes?” he said curtly. There was a pause; then Jesse started speaking quickly, his words running
Jesse sucked in a breath. “He told me to tone it down.” Jesse sounded miserable. “I know this sounds bad. Like I’m getting all paranoid, but it’s not like that. Not really. We just need to be careful. Mike told me management asked him if you were behaving with the customers, and he said Chaz might be watching me.”
Val pressed the phone tight against his ear as if that would help him understand what Jesse wasn’t saying. “What do you mean? What exactly did Chaz say to you?”
Jesse was regaining his equilibrium. Val could almost hear the evasive shrug.
“Just some stuff.”
“Jesse—”
“Our previous bartender was fired for hitting on customers. Did you know that?” Val ignored this. “Did Chaz threaten to fire you? Can he fire you?”
Jesse’s laugh was bitter. “I don’t know if Chaz cares that I’m gay. I think he’s just letting me know I need to spend more time with the customers and less time with you. For him it’s all about the show. If Chaz isn’t happy with me as a dancer, he’ll let the powers that be know, and they could let me go. You know, they could fire you too. I probably should have warned you sooner. Sorry,” he added.
“Relax. Mike already gave me a heads-up. Anyway, I’m not doing anything wrong, and neither are you.”
“I guess not.” Jesse didn’t sound convinced.
Val tried to ease his concerns. “They can’t fire you. You have a solo.” Jesse sighed in his ear. “They could work around that. The ensemble guys cover injuries and illness. Any one of them could step up and replace me tomorrow if I was fired. Besides, we have new applicants every week. Some guys think stripping for drunk women is exciting.”
“Do you?” Val asked before he could stop himself.
“Is it?” Val asked. He’d hate being pawed and screamed at, and if Jesse enjoyed that, he’d be pretty surprised.
“It’s hard work, but it pays really well. I couldn’t make the same kind of money doing anything else.”
Interesting way to answer the question. Val didn’t press Jesse any further. It sounded like Chaz had rattled him enough already. “Listen, don’t worry about Chaz. He’s fighting a losing battle, and he knows it.”
“What do you mean?”
“He’s getting older. He has to work much harder than you, than any of the young dancers, just to keep up. He probably spends hours at the gym and starves himself. How much time do you spend at the gym?”
“Not much. I do more yoga than weights.” Jesse sounded more confident. This was a subject he’d know something about. “It’s a better fit for my body type. I get muscle strength and increased range of motion.”
Jesus. Val closed his eyes and breathed deeply, imagining Jesse contorting his body into all sorts of impossible positions. He shook himself mentally. “Look, Chaz is just throwing his weight around. He’s trying to maintain the pecking order. His selfimage is all tied up in the show, and he knows his days are numbered. That’s probably why he sleeps with all those women too. He’s trying to prove he’s not old,” Val added with sudden insight. “Besides, you’re one of their best dancers. They’ll cut you a lot of slack.”
“Yeah, well, me sucking on your tongue at the meet and greet would probably piss both Chaz and the managers off.”
Val bit back a surprised laugh. Jesse had never come right out and said anything about kissing him before. He swallowed and licked his lips, trying not to think of his tongue exploring Jesse’s mouth or any other part of his body. “You still there?” He could hear Jesse breathing.
“Maybe we can try that somewhere a little more private,” Val suggested. “Yeah.” Jesse’s voice was husky.
“Maybe on Monday,” Val added. Just to make sure there was no
miscommunication.
“Monday,” Jesse repeated. He cleared his throat. “I should go. I’ve got some
errands to run before the show.”
Val let him go, distracted by the idea of being with Jesse on Monday. Unless he messed up big-time, he’d almost certainly get to have sex with Jesse. But in the bedroom, which was the real Jesse? The man who hadn’t been able to hide his hurt when he’d been snubbed? Or the confident, take-charge man who performed onstage?
He wondered how many previous lovers Jesse had and how he’d measure up, then shook himself mentally. There was no point in developing performance anxiety. Jesse was hot and sexy. He might have had dozens of partners, but probably not. Closeted gay men’s opportunities for sex were usually more limited.
Val opened the laptop and stared at the empty screen, but his mind was still on Jesse. He wasn’t allowed in the dressing room. He didn’t know what went on in there. Chaz acted as if he were king of the jungle, but he was more like a domesticated house cat. Sure, he was pushy and aggressive, but he didn’t worry Val. Whatever he’d said had upset Jesse, though. Maybe Chaz would bear keeping an eye on.
After they’d finished talking and hung up, Jesse flopped onto the couch, his legs hanging over the arm. If Chaz outed him, what was the worst that could happen?
Jesse tried to imagine the atmosphere in the dressing room. He could handle snide looks and jokes about liking cock. He could even deal with hostility and disgust. After all, nothing short of physical assault could be worse than anything he’d endured in his last year of high school. He’d had plenty of derision and scorn heaped on him back then, and he’d managed.
He sat up. Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad. Val didn’t seem too concerned, and no one gave Mike a hard time.
His anxiety eased a little. Mike had figured out Jesse was gay when they met. He wouldn’t have suggested Jesse apply for a job in an openly hostile environment.
They’d met in the bar at the hotel where Jesse was staying. Mike had been friendly but hadn’t tried to pick him up. Over a couple of beers Jesse had mentioned he was looking for work. After a few more beers Mike had asked if Jesse could dance.
When he was little, he’d been into gymnastics, especially tumbling. He’d loved spinning through the air, doing somersaults and back handsprings. He’d been good, at least for a kid his age. As he’d gotten older he’d realized gymnastics was not considered a suitable sport for a boy, and he’d dropped it.
But some forms of dancing were acceptable for a male teenager—especially hiphop, which was like tumbling, only cooler. After his accidental outing, he’d been shunned by a lot of guys he’d thought of as friends. He’d spent most of his free time listening to music and practicing dance moves.
He couldn’t remember how much of his life story he’d blurted out, but Mike had suggested he audition for the revue, and Jesse was drunk enough to agree. When he’d sobered up and tried to back out the next day, Mike wouldn’t let him.
His audition had gone well. The choreography for the group numbers wasn’t difficult. Anyone with some coordination could manage, and when asked for a demo, he’d shown off a couple of cool hip-hop moves, relieved he hadn’t been asked to demonstrate his nonexistent stripping skills.
He’d gotten the job and, in hindsight, considered himself lucky it was Eric and not Chaz who worked with him on his dance routines. Eric had been a dancer until a wakeboarding accident and a badly broken leg. Now he was their MC. He was blond, buff, and a patient teacher. Jesse had developed a crush on him, which had made their first few one-on-one sessions a little awkward. Luckily his crush had gone unnoticed and been mercifully brief.
When a dancer left, Jesse had been offered a full-time position. He hadn’t thought he was good enough, but Eric had told him he was a natural. Together they’d developed his firefighter routine.
He still didn’t think of himself as a professional dancer, but he didn’t want to call himself a stripper either. He sighed. He’d been naive enough to think being gay would make it easier to dance for women. At first he’d been flattered by all the attention. But lately when he walked past the front of the theater and saw his face grinning out from the giant posters, he felt embarrassed and sleazy. The money was great, though, and if he wanted to save enough to open his own restaurant or bar one day, he needed to keep dancing.
Jesse wasn’t sure how he got through the next couple of nights. It seemed Monday and his date with Val would never arrive. The women’s touches and suggestive comments irritated him, but knowing Chaz was watching him closely, he did his best to make sure the customers were getting what they’d paid for. And he was careful not to look like he was flirting with Val.