by Jacobs, Kyle
Logan sighed. This kind of drama just made the Macabre Jesters existence all the more difficult.
Just then Logan caught movement out of the corner of his eye. He turned and saw Eddie across the far side of the bar. Eddie waved, but Logan didn't bother to wave back. Logan was over him. What they had was history, and it would stay that way.
But what really snagged his attention was the stunning hot guy standing next to Eddie.
"Whoa," Logan managed. To say he was a looker was an understatement.
"Now that there is some fine piece of tail," Parker said. Logan could only nod in agreement.
Logan and the looker's eyes met, and Logan was struck with a sensation he had never experienced before in his life. Like a ray of sunshine boring through his eyes and chasing away the shadows dirtying his soul.
Then Eddie pulled the looker away, ruining the moment. Both guys moved in the direction of Henry's office.
Parker gave Logan a shove, nudging him out of his trance. "You can breath now," Parker said, laughing.
Logan was still trying to come to his senses. "Who the hell was that?"
Parker shrugged. "Dunno, probably a peeler. Here for Henry's job audition. Hope he brought a penicillin shot."
Logan blinked at this. Henry was the manager of the strip club, but was nothing less than a proxy for the Macabre Jesters. Everything was in Henry's name, so if something went down with the bar, the MC was protected. To anyone sniffing around, it looked like the bar was owned by Henry. But Henry was owned by the Macabre Jesters.
Of course, that didn't stop Henry from being a brash loudmouth with an abusive perverted side that was almost legendary. Of course, that description could be applied to practically every member of the Club, too. But just as long as Henry didn't get out of hand and bring unnecessary attention to the bar, the bar manager could do as he pleased.
Now that gorgeous looker of a man was heading toward Henry's office. And, to Logan's complete surprise, that bothered him.
Just then a tall man bolted out of Henry's office and hurried toward the front door, crying.
"Guess he forget his penicillin shot," said Parker.
Logan then noticed the looker head into Henry's office and shut the door behind him.
Dammit, Logan thought, shaking his head. He couldn't get involved. Let another member deal with Henry's antics. He had other more important business to deal with. And none of it meant getting involved with a peeler.
Then he remembered that feeling he got from the looker. All from just from making eye contact with him.
Maybe...
Parker hissed in his ear, "Incoming."
Logan looked up and saw Milo's massive figure striding toward him. As casually as he could Logan stood. He didn't think Milo would try anything here. Why would he? Still, you couldn't be to careful with a blatant enemy in your midst.
Milo said to him, "We got that thing later."
"Yup, Jonah gave me the details," Logan said. Jonah had told him all right. And none of it put Milo in a good light.
Milo is a disease, Jonah had said. Don't let him infect you.
Milo appeared to be getting some of his composure back after being embarrassed over Ryder. He sneered at Logan, "Well, that was sweet of him. You know, I think you need to handle this on your own. Show me what you got. It's a simple run. You can take care of it." As Milo turned away he shot over his shoulder, "Just don't screw it up."
Logan seethed, but felt Parker's hand on his shoulder to restrain him. "Not worth it," Parker said. "He's gonna dig his own grave some day. Just don't get any dirt on you when he does."
Logan cooled off a little. He could handle the task given to him by Jonah. And, actually, it would go better without Milo messing about. He could handle business as was expected of him.
Despite himself, Logan looked over at the closed door of the manager's office. He was thinking of that gorgeous looker and what he would be forced to be doing right now.
Logan suddenly found himself walking.
"Whatcha doin?" Parker called after him.
"I'm gonna take care of some business," Logan said, and headed right for the manager's door.
Chapter 3
Oliver
Oliver felt numb as he shut the office door and turned to take in the new surroundings.
After being in the wide open space of the bar, the office felt incredibly small and constrained. A simple desk with a couple of chairs in front of it were the only furniture present. The walls were lined with garish posters declaring Hot Rocks stripping assets along with photos of men in different states of undress. The only window faced out toward the bar, no doubt so the dancing on the stage could be observed, but was covered with blinds which were now closed.
Sitting on the opposite side of the desk was a thin, gawky man. His face was beat red, mostly from horrific acne, but also from what Oliver could only assume was some type of allergy. The thin moustache across his lip only accentuated his long, hooked nose. What little hair he had was bright blond, no doubt dyed, and was spiked at a near comical angle to one side. He probably thought he looked good. But he was the only one in the room who felt that way.
This was obviously Henry.
Henry was angrily clicking on a mouse while fixated on a computer monitor. From his angle, Oliver could see it was some type of online poker game, which he appeared to be losing.
Without even looking up Henry waved dismissively at one of the chairs. "Sit your ass down," he said.
Oliver sat, crossing his legs and keeping his hand bag in his lap. He really did not want to be there, right now. He just wanted to go back to his crappy motel room and cry. Yet, here he sat. Poverty makes you do stupid things.
Henry suddenly cursed and batted the mouse off the desk, making it clatter to the floor. A card game lost. No doubt, one of many. Angrily, Henry turned away from his monitor to finally look at Oliver for the first time. His angry expression froze for a moment, then transformed into a wide smile that could be best described as oily.
Oliver hid his revulsion. Henry was even less appealing when smiling then when he was angry.
"My, my, my," Henry said. "What do we have here?" His beady eyes moved slowly down Oliver's body, taking in every detail with a hungry purpose. He gazed at Oliver's crotch, then back up his body again to finally settle on his chest. Henry licked his lips.
Oliver tolerated it. This wasn't the first time he was visually devoured by a man. And wouldn't be the last.
After a few moments, Henry's gaze snapped up to look Oliver in the eyes. "Eddie really delivered, this time," he said. His lips peeled back to show incredibly white teeth. Probably as fake as his hair color.
Henry leaned back in his chair, which squeaked loudly. His eyebrows shot up, and he extended his hands out in what looked like expectation. "Well?" he asked.
"Well, what?" Oliver asked, tension building in his gut.
"Well, let's see your dick, honey," Henry said like it was the most obvious thing in the world.
Oliver's heart shot up into his throat. No, no, no, he thought. He couldn't do this. Not again. I can't.
When he didn't move, Henry looked confused. "You're a stripper, right? Strippers strip. It's your stock and trade. So, strip. Not all the way. We'll get to that later. I just want to get a chance at that cock you have hidden in there."
"I don't..." he started to say.
"You don't strip? What kind of striper are you?" Henry's grin was turning into a frown. His voice was starting to tinge with anger. "Is the audience expected to use their imagination as you dance around on the stage in layers of winter clothing?"
Oliver suddenly stood.
Surprised, Henry stood, too.
"This isn't what I expected," Oliver managed to say. "I'm sorry." He headed for the door.
"Wait!" Henry said.
Oliver stopped, his hand on the door handle and looked back at him.
Henry smiled. "Look, I'm sorry. I was just kidding around." He looked apolo
getic. "I tease all the guys. I gotta know if they can handle the customers. You realize that customers will give it to you a lot worse than that, right?"
Oliver nodded. "I guess." In fact, they have, but he said nothing.
"See!" Henry said. "Now please, sit down. We'll just talk." He extended a hand toward the chair.
Oliver sighed, then returned to his seat.
"All, better," he said. "We're friends now, right? And friends look out for each other. I want to know you'll be okay if you're working for me. I mean, those guys out there can get really rowdy with a hot babe like yourself waving his fanny in their faces. Right?"
Oliver really didn't know what to say to that. Part of him wanted to leave, right then and there. Another part forced him to stay. This was a world he knew, and was used to. He was starting to doubt if he really could he make another go of it, doing something else.
Henry was grinning, happy that he wasn't running away. "Look, I understand your situation. You need money, am I correct?"
Oliver nodded. Who didn't?
"And being a peeler pays well, right?"
Oliver nodded, again. May as well play along.
"And Hot Rocks pays really well, too. Or, should I say, I pay really well." He was leering at him now.
Unsure of what was expected of him, Oliver offered a tight smile. He clutched his hand bag closer to himself.
Henry was enjoying himself. "See, I'm tight with the Macabre Jesters. Real tight. We're business partners on this little venture here. They even come to me for advice from time to time."
Oliver found the mention of the Club's name caused his stomach to flutter in excitement, despite himself.
"And those guys really pay well. Now if you want to get in good with those guys, you gotta get in good with me."
Oh, damn, Oliver thought. Here it comes.
"So," Henry continued. "If you are really expecting do work here, then you're expected to do a little extra to earn that right."
And with that, he casually unbuttoned his pants, unzipped his fly and pulled out his member from its sweaty hiding place. He had done this so quick and easily it was no doubt he'd done this before with many other guys.
Oliver gasped. He wasn't as shocked as he should have been. After all, wasn't this sort of what he expected when he closed the door and sat down? A price to be paid by him?
He looked at Henry's member, which happened to be at eye level. Like Big Henry, Little Henry was small and pathetic. But his confidence was growing by the second.
"I know you want this," Henry said, shaking it at him. "Now, show me how badly you want this job."
Oliver was frozen in place, uncertain of what to do. Yes, Henry was right. He needed this job more than anything. It angered him that he was even in this situation, but for that he could blame that asshole Gavin for screwing up his life.
And here he was: sitting in the back room of a peeler bar with some scumbag waving is tiny dick in his face.
Something had to change. But he needed time first to kick that change into gear. And, more than anything, he needed money.
He looked at Little Henry, now standing at attention. Was he willing to do what it took to get his life together? Was this a part of that? He didn't really know, but his empty wallet was certainly telling him that it was.
He found himself moving.
Suddenly the office door flew open. Both Oliver and Henry looked to see who it was. Someone who wanted to be an audience to his mistake?
A man stood in the doorway, a look of anger on his handsome face. He was large, muscular and had the presence of someone who was not to be messed with under any circumstance.
And he was magnificent.
Oliver felt his heart quicken. Not with fear, but with something else entirely. This was the Club member he made eye contact with when he first came in.
Oh, my, he thought.
The large man took in the scene, first glancing at Oliver, which caused him to catch his breath, then at Henry.
"The hell is going on here?" said the living Man-God. His voice was deep, and his tone was that of great annoyance.
Big Henry had stood up when the other man had entered, and was still holding Little Henry in his hand. Both Big and Little Henry were wilting under the intense gaze of the man in the doorway.
"I... uh, was just..." Henry looked to Oliver, as if he would offer some sort of support.
"Don't look at me," Oliver managed to say. Damned if he would give this sleaze a way out of this.
The large man strode into the room, with the ease of a commanding general, and walked over to Henry.
Henry cringed, and spun away off the desk in a lame effort to hide somewhere. He was too terrified to even do up his pants.
The large man was on him, and with an open hand, slapped Henry across the face. Henry went ass over teakettle into the corner of the room, Little Henry flapping about.
Just then, another man entered the room. This one was considerably larger than the first, with thick jet black hair. He looked over at the first man and Henry, then over at Oliver. He offered Oliver a slight nod of the head and a mischievous grin.
"You causing problems for us?" the first man said to Henry. "You think screwing around with these guys is good for the Club?"
Henry was beside himself with fear. No, more than that. Pure terror. Here was a man who fully expected to die in the next few moments.
And Oliver was shocked to learn he was actually enjoying seeing him like this.
"No... no, Logan, not at all. I was just having a little fun, was all. I didn't mean any harm."
Oliver's ears perked up. So, this incredible hunk's name was Logan? Logan. He couldn't think of anything that sounded sexier.
"Harm? You twit. What if one of these guys called the cops because of your dumb ass antics? You think we want that kind of attention here?"
Henry was beyond petrified. The mention of him bringing cops must of sounded like a death sentence to his ears.
"I'm sorry. I..." Henry started to say but then Logan slapped him again. And again.
"You think this is funny? You think this is a game?" Logan said, punctuating each sentence with a slap.
What followed could best described as a biker beat down. Both Oliver and the black haired man watched, one in shock, the other with mild boredom.
After a few moments, Logan stopped. He glared down at the quivering, weeping manager.
"Think he got the point?" the black haired man asked.
Logan shrugged, nonchalantly, stepping away from Henry and came around the desk again. "I think I made it pretty clear." You looked over at Oliver. Instantly, his look of anger was gone replaced by one of genuine concern. "Are you okay?" he asked him.
Oliver was a little dumb founded. Here was a man who stopped something awful from happening to him. He had come to his rescue. Yes, it came in the form of a little Club discipline, but he'll take it. "Yeah," he managed. Was that him talking? "I'm fine. Thank you."
"Did he touch you?" Logan asked.
With that Henry mewled in terror. He knew if Oliver said yes the beating would continue, and get much worse.
Logan ignored him, waiting for his answer.
"No," Oliver said, finally. "Not at all." He didn't want to say anything further, more out of pity than mercy.
The black haired man said, "Now that you've invoked a little employee training, can we go eat? I'm hungry."
Logan was still watching Oliver intently, more curious than anything else. Then his face broke into a smile. And to Oliver it was beautiful to behold. Logan nodded his head toward the other man. "Parker always thinks with his stomach. Don't mind him."
"Yeah, well a good beating always makes me hungry," Parker said.
"You didn't even hit him," Logan said.
Parker shrugged. "Watching a beating makes me hungry, then."
Oliver found he could not speak, entranced by this man's smile.
Logan indicated he should stand up. "Come on," he
said. Oliver did as he was told. He felt he would do anything this man told him to do, and happily.
All three of them left Henry to cry and weep in private.
Outside, all the guys waiting were paralysed with fear. Eyes wide.
Logan smiled at them all, Oliver standing beside him. "It's okay," Logan said to the group. "We just had a meeting, and it was decided by our manager that we'll skip this part of the audition."
