Side Game (Men of Trance Book 2)

by Nicole Loufas

  “And you’re ready to do that?”

  “I am.”

  “You have the funds?”

  “Almost. If I give one hundred percent to the grind and stay out of the shops on Union Street, I’ll be good.”

  Rico is against Brazil.

  Well, it’s more like he’s against Antonia.

  He thinks she’s too good to be true, mainly because she always tries to negotiate a discount. Rico says heiresses aren’t frugal. Antonia likes to splurge, but she isn’t willing to overpay for luxury.

  “Look, bro, if you think this is a good move then you know I got you.” He holds his fist out to me. “If you get down there and the club is a pit, there’s no shame in coming home.”

  The thought has crossed my mind. Rio is flooded with bars that double as brothels. Antonia could be hiring me to manage an underground sex club, or worse, a sex trafficking ring. She has that female gangster aura about her.

  I bump his fist. “My ticket isn’t one-way—I’ll be back to visit—but if this place is everything Antonia says it is…”

  “What did she call it?” Rico interrupts. “The Studio 54 of Rio.”

  “She said people wait two hours to get in.”

  Rico looks skeptical. “And I bet they’re doing coke by the pound and fucking in dark corners, too.”

  “That’s every club,” I reply defensively.

  “You aren’t running every club. You’re managing the Studio 54 of Rio. So, when the cops raid this place—and you know they will—it’s your ass going to jail.” He pauses. “In Brazil.”

  “Food for thought,” I concede.

  “Dude, you don’t need any more food today.”

  I burp and flip him off because he’s right—about everything.

  ***

  After lunch, I head home to shower and prep for my side job. The first thing I do is puke; the burger was too much. I flush the toilet and slather an obscene amount of toothpaste on my toothbrush. I scrub and rinse until I no longer feel like a fucking asshole. It isn’t something I’m proud of, but it’s my reality. Since Leeyan’s been here, I’ve been slacking on my program. I haven’t hit the gym in three days.

  This side job is easy money, meaning no sex and no dancing. Rico offers a laundry list of services, including doing actual laundry, but today’s gig requires a little more skill, which is why Percy is coming with me.

  I meet him at the West Oakland BART station. He’s already dressed for the gig in dark blue jean overalls, and the top part is folded down so you can see his plain white tee. A red and black flannel is tied around his waist to keep the overalls from sliding off his ass.

  I shake my head as he gets into my car.

  “I can’t believe you wore that on BART.”

  “You’re wearing the same thing.”

  “Yeah, in my car.” I pull away from the curb. “I could’ve picked you up.”

  “I stayed with my girl last night.”

  “Does Jim know you have a girlfriend?”

  “It never came up.” He shrugs.

  “Jim has a thing about girlfriends.”

  “What kind of thing?”

  “He thinks they’re bad for business.”

  If Jim finds out Percy is pussy-whipped, he may think twice about moving him up. He doesn’t like to invest in dancers with short life spans.

  “My girl’s cool. She knows what I do.”

  So cocky.

  So naive.

  “Just keep it on the low. Don’t lie if he asks, but I wouldn’t volunteer the info.”

  “I got you.” Percy holds his fist out to me.

  The client’s house is a renovated Victorian. Like most gentrified neighborhoods, the other homes haven’t quite caught up to its level of sophistication. Across the street, a half-burned-out car houses a homeless man. He sets a can of tuna on the hood and opens a box of crackers. A calico cat runs out of the boarded-up house next door and waits by his feet.

  I get out and pop open my trunk. Percy pulls out the red toolbox.

  “Strap in.” I pull the straps of my overalls over my shoulders and secure the buckles. Percy does the same. We look like gay farmers.

  “I assume Rico gave you the rundown on what’s going to happen in there.”

  “Yep, we’re putting together some Ikea furniture.”

  “That’s all he told you?”

  “He said it was easy money.” He shrugs like an arrogant punk.

  Oh, this is going to be great.

  I close the trunk. “Lead the way.”

  I want Percy to go in first—I want to see his face.

  We walk up a red staircase to the porch. Percy doesn’t react to the swing music vibrating the windows as he rings the doorbell.

  The door opens and a flaming redhead screams, “They’re here!”

  He ushers us into the foyer, and his eyes drop to our feet.

  “No shoes.” He points to a hand-painted sign that says the same. “We have an assortment of slippers here, or you can go bare. The floors are sterilized weekly.”

  Several pairs of silk slippers are stacked in little wooden bins on the wall, organized by color. The foyer looks like the entrance to a preschool. Everything is pastel colored, from the walls to the flowers. I sit on the bench and remove my Timberlands, shoving my socks inside each one. I tuck my boots into the cubby beneath me.

  “I’m Autumn.” The client holds his hand out.

  “Giovanni.” We shake hands—it’s part of the ritual. I’ve been here before with Dain.

  Autumn turns to Percy, whose current facial expression is priceless. “You’re a quiet one.”

  Percy doesn’t acknowledge Autumn, still in shock.

  “This is Percy.” I backhand his arm. “Shoes, dude.”

  Percy peels his eyes from the main room where a dozen men dressed in bright pastel pants and matching shirts sip tea around several cardboard boxes.

  Autumn hands me the fifteen-hundred-dollar fee, in cash, then asks if we’d like a drink. I tell him water is fine. When he disappears into the kitchen, I slap Percy on the head.

  “Dude, focus.”

  He places his Converse into a cubby and puts on a pair of black satin slippers.

  “We’re supposed to be removing clothes, not adding them.” I point to his feet. “Put those back. The floor is sterilized once a week—you can lick ice cream off this floor.” I tap the hardwood with my foot.

  He takes the slippers off. “I thought we were putting together furniture…”

  “We are.”

  Autumn returns with two bottles of Voss. “Shall we begin?”

  I take the water and remind Autumn of our no cell phone policy.

  “All phones need to be collected. No photos, no video while we work. We can take pictures after.” I tap Percy on the back. “Is that cool with you?”

  “Uh, yeah…whatever.”

  Percy has no clue what I just said, too focused on our audience.

  The first time I did a gig like this, I felt the same way. It’s intimidating as fuck. I’ll take the stage in front of a hundred people over a room of ten any day.

  “Already collected.” Autumn picks up a basket filled with cell phones.

  “All right let’s get started.”

  The room quiets when we walk in. They speak in low voices as we unpack the boxes and spread the pieces on the floor. Percy is like a robot. He moves only when I prompt him. We remove a large panel from the box and carry it to the hall, so it isn’t in our way.

  “What is going on here?” Percy is confused.

  “They’re going to watch us put this desk together.”

  “That’s it? Just watch?”

  “They do what they do, we do what we do. There’s no contact.”

  He seems to settle down.

  “Let’s get this done and get out of here.” Percy holds his fist out, and I bump it with my free hand.

  This kid and his fist-bumping. Some of the viewers react to our show of bro-hood, m
ocking us with dainty fist bumps to each other. It’s funny. Even Percy cracks a smile.

  We have the two legs of the desk secured when the first request is made.

  “Take your shirt off,” a spectator calls out.

  Percy shoots me a look. I look past him to the man holding the money. He has a one-hundred-dollar bill in each hand.

  I stand and unhook the buckle on my right shoulder. The crowd whistles, and Percy follows my lead.

  I pull my t-shirt off, and the room collectively sighs. This isn’t like stripping on stage; it’s strange to undress and get a mild reaction.

  Percy takes his t-shirt off and tosses it at the man holding the money. The guy snatches it from the floor and sniffs it dramatically.

  “He smells like a man.”

  “I want a sniff.” Autumn reaches for the shirt, but the man pulls back.

  “Get your own.” He shoves Percy’s shirt into a man purse by his blue satin-slippered feet.

  Autumn pulls out another hundred. “Give it up, Giovanni.”

  I pick up my shirt and walk it to Autumn. You always treat the host with respect. I kneel in front of him and present the garment like a peasant making an offering to a king.

  “Be still my heart,” Autumn gushes. He takes the shirt then plants a kiss on my cheek.

  “How much for the overalls?” A man wearing a bright yellow suit digs into his pocket and pulls out a wad of cash.

  I never set a price. You should always let the client make an offer, but Percy didn’t get this memo.

  “Three fifty,” Percy chirps.

  The room lets out a chorus of “Ohhh.”

  “Do we have a bidding war?”

  Big Yellow sits on the edge of his seat. “One fifty.”

  “Three hundred.”

  “One seventy-five.”

  They volley like this for a few minutes, and then Autumn intervenes when Percy moves to ten-dollar denominations.

  “Let’s call it a draw and meet halfway, shall we?”

  He looks to me for approval. I pat Percy’s shoulder to let him know it’s time to concede.

  “Two fifty it is,” Autumn declares.

  I pull the red flannel from my waist and let the overalls slide to my ankles. Again, the room quietly enjoys the view…until Percy drops his pants.

  Even I laugh.

  “Dude, what the fuck are those?”

  “I didn’t know we were stripping, okay?” He kicks his feet out of his overalls and adjusts his junk.

  “Does Thor know you’re wearing his underwear?”

  “They were a gift from my girl. She knows I like Marvel.” His face is almost as red as Thor’s cape. “Don’t fucking tell the guys, please.”

  “Is that a hammer in your pants or you just happy to see me?” Big Yellow laughs.

  Percy looks like he wants to beat the old dude with a hammer.

  Now that we’re down to our underwear, every movement causes a stir from the audience. They focus on specific areas. When I bend over to screw the casters into the legs, I feel eyes burning into my ass. When I’m lying flat on my back, placing brackets under the desk, I know they’re staring on my crotch. I can’t help but feel like I’m being judged. Then comes the doubt.

  Is my dick positioned weird?

  Are my balls showing?

  I should’ve shaved my inner thighs this morning.

  Percy is putting the drawers together while I secure the top to the legs. Autumn walks into the room with a bowl of cherries and places it on the ground near the toolbox.

  “Eat one,” he instructs.

  Percy sets his screwdriver down and turns to face the bowl. He’s sitting on the floor with one knee up, legs spread open. I’d say he’s pretty fucking relaxed now.

  “I don’t like cherries,” Percy says defiantly.

  Autumn lays a five-dollar bill on the floor and places two cherries on top. Percy grabs the cherries and the money. He eats them at the same time then spits the pits back in the bowl.

  The brash, almost rude way he expels them from his mouth causes stir among the spectators, specifically Autumn, who continues to place cherries on top money.

  Percy continues to eat the fruit.

  I keep building the desk.

  Once it’s finished, we can leave, and that won’t happen if Percy doesn’t build the drawers. When Autumn places another round of cherries on a ten-dollar bill, I intercept.

  “How about I get in on the action and you get back to work.”

  Percy reluctantly goes back to furniture assembly as I start eating cherries.

  Sixty dollars later, he finishes, and I’m going to puke.

  “Bravo.” Autumn starts a round of applause.

  “Where do you want it?” Percy asks.

  Autumn laughs. “Oh darling, it doesn’t exactly go with the décor.”

  “Then why did we put it together?”

  Autumn looks perplexed. “Entertainment.”

  Percy is a smart kid, but sometimes he’s really dumb.

  “Thank you all so much for the hospitality.” I pick up my overalls and the toolbox. Percy has one leg in his overalls as I push him toward the foyer. “Enjoy the rest of your evening.”

  I give him a warning glance as we strap into our overalls. He doesn’t speak again until we’re in my car on the freeway.

  “What the fuck kind of freaky shit was that?”

  “That was easy money, son.”

  I’ll be shitting cherries for the next two days, but it was well worth the eleven hundred dollars in my pocket.

  Chapter Nine

  You have to be a special kind of friend to help another man with his erection. Teaching Theo how to tie off his dick before a private dance should earn me major friend points. It’s the least I can do since I’m harboring his ex.

  I’m doing reps on the pull-up bar when Percy walks into the locker room with a fresh stack of towels. He sets them on the shelf above the dirty bin and starts collecting the used ones from the floor.

  “Good work at that side gig.”

  “Thanks, man. I appreciate the extra money.” He pauses and looks around; we’re the only ones in the room. “My girl thinks she’s pregnant.”

  “Sorry, bro.”

  “Nah, it’s happy news.” He laughs. “We’ve been together for six months. Now that I’m making money, I can afford to put a ring on it.” He smiles like that’s something to smile about.

  “I think Lowe’s is hiring.”

  “Nah, man. I told you she’s cool.”

  I wish him the best when his “cool” pregnant girlfriend forces him to quit.

  Theo opens the bathroom door and I drop from the pull-up bar.

  “Solid.” I nod to his junk. “Now get your ass in there before your dick falls off.”

  I feel like a proud parent. I’ve been watching out for Theo since elementary school. His mom was a drunk. She’d go on a bender and leave him for days. The summers were the worst. I’d invite him over for dinner as often as I could, or until dad starting complaining about feeding strays.

  The only time we haven’t been one hundred with each other was after he started dating Leeyan. I said some pretty bad things about her before and after she came up pregnant. I accused Leeyan of trapping him. That’s what chicks do—women trap men with magical pussy and surprise babies. Theo always saw the good in Leeyan—even after she left. He never stopped believing in her. I was the one who pushed him to move on. I felt justified in my perception of her. Until now. After hearing her side, I’ll admit, Theo was right. Leeyan is a good person who made a bad decision. Life isn’t judged on a single error. Leeyan still has a chance to knock it out of the park. I want to help her make it right. Not just for her, for Theo, too.

  ***

  The gym isn’t crowded at this hour. Just after lunch is my favorite time to work out. The mom classes are over, and the muscle heads are done for the day. It’s only Theo and me. Like old times.

  I help Theo lift the bar from t
he rack.

  “You doing ten?”

  He takes the bar containing a measly hundred and forty pounds, and powers through the first five.

  “You got this.” I encourage him through the rest of this set. The boy can dance, but he can’t lift for shit. I give him a little grief about his dad bod.

  “Maybe I don’t want to look like you,” he lies.

  I start to brag about how my body has created opportunities for me. I’m working up the nerve to tell him about Brazil. We’ve always had each other’s backs. When I move, he’ll be on his own. Even if he doesn’t want Leeyan back, he’ll have someone to help with Lulu. I could broker a truce between them and come out of this thing a hero. Two birds with one stone.

  Before I find the right way to start the conversation, some creep rolls up on us. Theo’s ignorant ass starts a conversation with him.

  “I’m Josh,” the creep says.

  Theo shakes his hand. “Theo, and that’s Giovanni.”

  Fucking hell.

  Creepy Josh tries to talk to me, and I shut him down.

  “Are you guys military?”

  I slam my last rep and sit up. “Nope.”

  Theo doesn’t realize Josh wants to use his dick as a toothbrush. The guy is seconds away from humping my leg. I remove myself from the situation and let Theo learn a valuable life lesson.

  “Hey Gio,” Sarah the receptionist leans over the counter to show me her tits. She’s desperate and broke, but everyone is a potential client.

  “Hey, sweetheart.” I kiss her cheek. “You look good.”

  She blushes and asks about Theo. “Who’s your friend.”

  “Ouch.” I pretend to take on in the gut.

  “Sorry.” She runs her hand down my arm. “He looks more my type.”

  “What type is that?”

  “Monogamous.”

  She must know I banged the receptionist who works nights and two of the personal trainers. I’m a Fitness Palace legend.

  Theo finally breaks loose from Creepy Josh, and I introduce him to Sarah. While they make small talk, I hear my phone ding. I swipe the home screen and see a text from Leeyan. This feels wrong. I can’t stand in front of Theo and text Leeyan.

  Theo recognizes the nervous look I’m sporting as we walk to the locker room. Making a sexist remark is a great conversation changer. It also buys me time to get my shit together.