SIX: A Men of the Strip Anthology

by Marie Skye

  “I’m no quitter, sweet cheeks,” she says as she takes the light he hands her. “Now all of you stop standing around and go shake those money makers.”

  I struggle not to roll my eyes as I turn around and shove the rest of my shit into my locker. My phone sounds alerting me of a new text and Rylee’s name appears. I swipe my thumb across the screen and read the text asking me to call her.

  Glancing over my shoulder, I watch Betty sashay her sequined covered hips into her office and dial Rylee.

  “Hey,” she answers. “I know you’re working but, this couldn’t wait.”

  A pang of guilt hits me hard as she says the words and I recall the other night on the phone when she asked me about my second job. I was too much of a pussy to admit, I take my clothes off or that I dry hump a fucking chair so, I lied and told her I worked as a bar back at a casino on the strip instead.

  Swallowing, I force myself back to the conversation and ignore the lie burning a hole in my chest.

  “What’s up?”

  “Guess who passed her boards!? This girl, that’s who!”

  The excitement in her voice causes me to grin and for a minute I forget where I am and what I’m about to do. Instead, I revel in her accomplishment.

  “That’s awesome but, I’m not surprised. You were meant to be a nurse.”

  “Thank you, I’m still in shock.”

  “We’ll celebrate,” I promise. “Pick a night we’re both free and we’ll make it happen.”

  “Okay,” she agrees. “I’d like that.”

  “Sugar bum, let’s go!” Betty calls out behind me.

  “I’ve gotta go back to work but, I’m happy for you babe. Real happy for you.”

  “Will you call me when you get off?”

  “Yeah,” I promise, looking over my shoulder as Betty makes her way closer. Without a proper goodbye, I disconnect the call and shove the phone in my locker. I slam it shut and turn to face the flamboyant broad who’s got me by the balls. With a tip of my hat, I pull out my nightstick and brush past her.

  The lights dim, the music starts and the women roar, chanting my name. I listen for my cue as the beginning chords of Liam Payne’s Strip That Down begin to play and when he starts to sing about the club, I make my way onto the stage.

  Eye on the prize, Gio.

  Eye on the motherfucking prize.

  9

  Finding a night to celebrate Rylee passing her boards wasn’t as hard as we thought it might be. Well, it wasn’t until she canceled two hours before I was supposed to pick her up, claiming her girlfriends planned a surprise for her. Having no right to be pissed, I told her to have a good time, and we’d catch up another night.

  Now, I’m sitting in the living room, nursing my third beer watching the Cowboys slaughter the Giants. I should go to the hospital and give my sister a break but as the days go by and he’s not on the list, it’s getting harder to convince her to leave his side.

  Bringing the beer to my lips, I pause when I hear my phone ring beside me. Turning it over, I see Betty’s name flash across the screen.

  “Fuck my life,” I groan. Ignoring the call, I let it go to voicemail but the bitch is relentless and calls again. And again. On the third attempt, I decide to answer the call knowing there is a strong possibility she will jump in her pink caddy and drive her ass over to my house.

  “Sugar lips, let’s get something straight—when I call, you answer. I don’t care if your house is on fire if you’re stuck on the side of the road or if you’re getting laid. You see my number, you answer the damn phone.”

  “You going to lecture me or tell me why you’re calling?”

  “Don’t give me your lip, Gio,” she warns, taking me by surprise that she’s actually using my name. “You still need that twenty-five thousand?”

  “Of course, I still need it and I thought we had an agreement—”

  “I’ll give it to you but, I need you to work tonight. There is a private party and with Big D out for the count, I need another guy.”

  “Let me understand, I do this party tonight and you’ll give me the advance? No hidden strings attached?”

  “That’s correct. Show starts at ten. What’s it going to be beef cake?”

  Hope soars in my chest as I glance across the room at one of Matteo’s photos. One night, a couple of hours and I can get him on the list. It’s a step closer to him getting the heart he needs.

  “I’ll be there,” I confirm before ending the call.

  Anxiously, I rise from the sofa and start to collect my empty beer bottles. I debate on whether to call my sister and give her the news but, in the end I decide I’m better off having the cash in my hand before I tell her. The last thing I want is to get her hopes up and then have Betty pull some fucking shady shit.

  While, I shower I picture the relief in my sister’s face. I think about how we’ll tell Matteo and the gratification I will feel when I drag my ass up to the billing department and tell them all to go fuck themselves. In that moment I also realize somewhere along the way I started losing hope myself. It’s always been about getting the money and putting him on the donor list. I gave no thought to what happens afterward.

  Sure, I understood the facts. I knew someone would lose their life in order for my nephew to continue with his. However, I never took the time to think about the severity of it all and how unfair life could be. All this time, I’ve been wishing for a miracle at the mercy of someone else’s tragedy.

  Then there is the actual surgery. The hours in which a little boy will be under the knife while me and his mother wait on pins and needles. We’ll pray the surgeons handle his ailing body with the same precision they would if it was their kid and hope like hell, that he won’t reject the heart. I’ve been so busy worrying about the money, I haven’t had the time worry about all the things that can still go wrong and those things, they’re more terrifying then writing a check. They’re the things only God controls.

  Forcing myself to take a step back and revel in the good news, I dress for work and grab my duffel bag. Unsure what is expected from me or what the people have paid for, I throw all my shit in the bag before making my way toward SIX.

  Upon my arrival, I learn the club is still open to the public and the private party is a bunch of girls my age celebrating some milestone. They’ve rented out the champagne room and Betty makes us dress in black suits. Jag leads, deciding on the music and pairing it with the choreography to the group set we do every night.

  Once it’s time for the show, we make our way into the darkened room. Smoke fills the stage and we straddle the chairs. It’s easy to make out the frames of the four women sitting in the audience and August goes on to mention how he wouldn’t mind bending one of them over. I don’t bother taking notice as the music fills my ears and I get into character. It’s just a job, a means to an end. Tyra fucking Banks could be the girl I’m about to grind against and it wouldn’t matter none.

  Simultaneously, we shrug out of our suit jackets and send them flying into the air. Next to come off is the white shirt. Making a show of it, we take our time peeling it off and slide across the stage on our knees before undoing our belts. Jag is first to jump off the stage. Doing his thing, he makes his way over to one of the girls and runs her hands down his chest. She slides his belt off and swings it in the air like any other horny woman with a stripper on her lap.

  Without paying close attention, I step off the stage and start for the girl closest to me. As I draw near, I realize her back is towards me and I put my hands on her hips. Petite and familiar, she reminds me of Rylee—a thought I quickly push out of my head as I grind against her ass. It just happens to be my luck that this chick’s ass is as perfect and round as Rylee’s too.

  As I round her body to face her, I push her down in the chair and straddle her legs. That’s when my eyes find hers and I hear my name screech past her lips.

  “Gio?”

  I freeze for a second before she shoves my chest and pushes me off
her.

  “Rylee—”

  “You’re a stripper?”

  “Let me explain,” I start but she shakes her head, throwing a hand in my face.

  “You told me you worked at a bar.”

  “Well, technically—”

  “Don’t even go there. This is not a fucking bar and you are not pouring drinks.”

  “I didn’t say I was a bartender.”

  “What’s going on?” August asks, beside me.

  “Rylee?” One of the girls asks.

  “You fucking lied to me, Gio.”

  “Wait a minute, hold the phone—” The girl stumbles forward, coming between me and Rylee. Her voice is familiar and I quickly place her as the chick she called the morning after our first date.

  “This is the guy you’re seeing from the hospital?”

  “The guy I was seeing,” Rylee corrects.

  “Come on don’t do that shit. At least give me a chance to explain myself.”

  “You’re sleeping with Gio! Do you know how many girls would die to be you? He’s like the hottest guy at SIX.”

  “You’re not making things better,” I tell the friend before turning my attention back to Rylee.

  “Fuck that you’re a goddamn All-star. Six times in one night? Sign me up.”

  Ignoring her belligerent comments, I watch as Rylee sways slightly. A second later she lifts her hand to her mouth and jets for the door. Wearing nothing but my black pants, I hurry after her. The main room is full and I’m sure we make a scene as I chase her through the crowd. Before I can reach the door, Betty grabs my hand.

  “What the hell are you doing?”

  “Get off me,” I growl, prying her hands from my arm. “I need to go after her.”

  “You walk out that door and you can kiss that—”

  She doesn’t get a chance to finish her threat as I push past her and hurry out the door. There is a line of women wrapped around the building, all screaming for my attention but, I ignore them as I search the lot for one face.

  One girl.

  Calling her name, I round the building and finally spot her leaning against the brick wall with her head buried in her hands.

  “Rylee, come on, let me explain,” I say as I reach her. She moves her hands from her face and narrows her eyes at me.

  “Let you explain what, why you’re a stripper or why you thought lying to me about it was a good idea?” She pauses and I watch her skin pale as her eyes go wide. “Oh my God,” she shrieks. “Do you sleep with all those women?”

  “I’m not a fucking gigolo Rylee,” I growl, losing my patience. “You’re not giving me a chance to speak!”

  “I’m going to be sick.”

  “Oh, now I make you sick,” I shout back at her. “But, I was okay before you knew the truth. In fact, I was better than okay, I was what you wanted. Maybe that’s why I didn’t tell you, maybe I didn’t want little miss perfect to judge.”

  “Gio!” Betty’s raspy voice hollers. “Get your ass back inside and take off your clothes like a good little stripper.”

  “I’m going to throw up,” Rylee says.

  “Gio, now or you can kiss that money goodbye!”

  Before I can tell Betty to take her money and shove it up the farthest part of her ass, Rylee lurches forward and vomits all over me.

  “Oh, for fucks sake,” Betty shrieks.

  About to fall on her face, I grab Rylee by the waist as she continues to regurgitate all over me.

  “Leave her there,” Betty orders.

  “Fuck you, Betty,” I holler.

  As soon as the words leave my lips, I realize I’ve just sealed my fate with Betty.

  I also realize that I’ve ruined any shot of Matteo getting on the list.

  10

  Rylee managed to throw up everything including her stomach lining before she passed out in my arms on the side of the club. To make matters worse, after I cursed Betty, she fired me, had August bring me my things and banned me from the club.

  Without many options, I lifted Rylee into my arms and carried her to my truck. I didn’t care that she had come there with her friends; she was leaving with me and when she sobered up some she was going to hear me out.

  I took her back to my place. Frankie wasn’t home, and I figured she was spending another sleepless night in the hospital. At the thought, I immediately felt the guilt of my actions wash over me but, tried to shake it off and focus on Rylee. Debating on whether to put her in the shower or just change her out of the puke covered clothes and knowing she already thought the worst of me, I decided to play it safe. After I changed her into a pair of my sweats and a t-shirt, I laid her on my bed and took a shower myself.

  Only then, under the spray of water did I let myself dwell on the ramifications of tonight. I thought about how I’d tell Frankie and what I could do to come up with the money for Matteo. As much as I struggled not to go back to my deviant ways, it looked as if that was the only way out of this. Once a degenerate, always a degenerate.

  When I got out of the shower, I dressed quickly and made my way into my bedroom. Instead of climbing into bed with Rylee, I took a seat in the chair propped in the corner of the room. Now here I am, two hours later in the same position watching her sleep as I wonder why I even bothered bringing her back here.

  I’m no good for Rylee. Even if I explain why I was working at SIX and the reasons I withheld the truth, it wouldn’t matter. We’re too different. Our lives don’t fit no matter how much I’d like to pretend they do and tomorrow when I drag my ass to the strip to sell drugs, so my nephew can get his name on the donor list, our differences will be confirmed.

  A moan escapes her lips, and she begins to stir. I’ve pictured her in my bed a whole lot but, I never expected it to be like this. I never thought the first time would be the last.

  “Gio?” she whispers, sounding every bit confused.

  “Yeah,” I say, clearing my throat as I lean forward. She struggles to sit up and instantly brings her hands to her head.

  “I feel like I’ve been hit by a truck,” she groans.

  Standing from the chair, I walk over to the nightstand and lift the bottle of water and the Advil I brought in earlier. Offering it to her, I take a seat on the edge of the bed and unscrew the top of the water. She drops the pills on her tongue and washes them down quickly before handing me back the bottle. Her eyes go wide and then before I can start, she does.

  “Oh God,” she mutters. “Did tonight really happen?”

  “If you’re asking if your friends really took you to a strip club to celebrate you passing your boards then yes, it happened and if you’re wondering if I was the guy ripping my clothes off for you—yeah, that happened too.”

  “You’re a stripper.”

  “Not anymore. I got fired tonight.”

  She sits up further.

  “Because of me,” she states, drawing in a deep breath. “I’m sorry Gio, I was out of line. I had no business causing a scene like that I was just taken off guard and…” her voice trails off as she shakes her head. “I guess I was hurt too. I mean I know we don’t know each other that long or are even anything, really. We went on one date and I acted like I had some sort of claim on you.”

  “I should’ve told you the truth,” I reply.

  “How come you didn’t?”

  “Rylee it’s not something I’m exactly proud of and let’s call a spade a spade, the night we went out you told me all about your decision to be a nurse and what drove you to it. You’ve got your shit figured out. You’re going places and more power to you but, how was I supposed to follow up with I strip five nights a week.”

  “Wait a minute are you saying I would’ve judged you?” she questions like the idea is so absurd.

  “Of course, you would’ve judged me. The first fucking question you asked wasn’t why I was stripping but if I was sleeping with everyone who came into the club,” I argue, exasperatedly. Running my fingers through my hair, I pause to study her. “L
ook, Rylee, the bottom line is my full-time job wasn’t cutting it after Matteo got sick. Then we found out he needed the transplant and that godforsaken hospital you work at told us they wouldn’t put him on the list without the money. Stripping wasn’t my plan.”

  “Gio—” Rylee interrupts. Her eyebrows pinch together in confusion as I cut her off and continue with my tirade.

  “There are other ways I can make the money Frankie needs to save her son. I could go back to my old neighborhood and sell blow but what happens if I get pinched. Who does Frankie have to hold her hand while she watches her son fight for every breath? The thing is I will do whatever it takes to get my nephew on that list. Whatever it takes not to watch my sister lose her kid.”

  “Gio shut up,” Rylee shouts over me. “When was the last time you spoke to Frankie?”

  “I don’t know around lunch?”

  “I left my phone at the hospital and before the girls and I went to SIX, we stopped so I could grab it. I ran into Frankie,” she explains. Throwing her legs over the edge of my bed, she forces herself onto her feet and closes the distance between us. Taking my hand next, she catches me off guard and it’s my turn to be confused.

  “I thought you knew.”

  “Knew what?”

  “Matteo was put on the donor list this afternoon.”

  Sure I heard her wrong, I stare at her in disbelief waiting for her to correct her mistake. When she doesn’t, I rise from the chair and cross the room searching for my phone.

  “It can’t be,” I accuse. “Frankie would’ve called me.” I freeze in my tracks and spin to face Rylee. “Wait a minute, that’s impossible. We don’t have the money.”

  “Apparently someone made an anonymous donation to Matteo’s medical expenses. At least that is what your sister said.”

  I shake my head.

  “It can’t be,” I argue in disbelief. It’s not that I don’t want to believe Rylee, it’s knowing we’re not that fortunate. It’s believing in miracles and restoring my faith in God. It’s finding hope when you’ve given up and trusting in humanity.