He walked toward the limo with his head up and his back squared. His blue eyes sparkled beneath the sign above Chickey’s entrance that read, “Male Strippers,” and a lock of sandy hair moved with a slight breeze. For a moment, Treston felt as if the world had begun to move in slow motion and he couldn’t move his legs.
As Mickey J. opened the back door of the limo, Chad glanced in Treston’s direction and rubbed his jaw. He looked him up and down and said, “Who are you? Are you a reporter? A photographer?”
Treston gulped. “I’m nobody special. I’m not a reporter.”
Chad smiled and the world seemed to tip sideways. “Why are you standing there with your mouth hanging open? The show’s over.”
Treston shrugged and said, “I’m you biggest fan, Mr. Pratt. I’ve seen all your movies three times and you’re my favorite actor.” He felt his heart beating in his ears. He still couldn’t move his legs.
“You work here?” Chad asked.
Treston nodded. “I’m a dancer. I was on my way inside to start my shift when I saw you.”
“Chickey’s an old friend of mine,” Chad said. “Why don’t you get into the car with me and I’ll take you to dinner? I hate eating alone and you’re better than no one.”
“Oh, Mr. Pratt, I’d love to, but I’m late for work already. I wish I could, but I need the money.” He hadn’t eaten all day. He usually didn’t eat until after work because he hated to dance on a full stomach. For a moment, he felt like ditching work that night and having dinner with Chad, but Chickey had been so good to him over the years, it didn’t feel right.
“What’s your name?” Chad asked.
“Ah well, Treston Fair Leigh.”
Chad turned to Mickey J. and said, “Please tell Chickey I borrowed one of his dancers tonight, Treston Fair Leigh, and I’ll make it up to him.” He turned to Treston and smiled again. “Chickey will understand, trust me. We’re very old friends.”
Treston exchanged a quick glance with Mickey J. When Mickey J. nodded, Treston took a quick breath, pulled his backpack off his shoulder, and climbed into the backseat.
When Chad got in and Mickey J. closed the door, the driver pulled away and Treston suddenly realized he was only wearing jeans and a black T-shirt. “I’m sorry I’m not dressed for dinner,” he said. “You look so nice. I’m sure you wear tuxedos all the time. The funny thing is I have black pants and a white shirt in my backpack. I was going to do a different routine tonight. If I’d known I was going to dinner, I would have changed into my costume before I left for work. I guess it’s too late now. Oh, it’s never easy to plan ahead for what’s coming in life.” In order to spice up his ping-pong ball routine, Treston had decided to wear something more formal than his male cheerleader costume. The black pants in his backpack were tighter than he normally would have worn his pants, and so was the shirt. He wanted to keep his act fresh for the customers who kept coming back to see him shoot ping pong balls out of his ass. And he was getting sick of the baton twirling himself. Another thing he’d learned over the years as a stripper at an all-male strip club: don’t always use those clichéd costumes that pull off at the seams too fast. The men who came to see him strip preferred it when he wore normal clothes and took his time undressing for them. There were some nights he could almost feel the energy coming from the audience as he stepped out of his pants slowly, one leg at a time. And when he pulled off his socks he swore he saw some of the older men swoon.
“Change your clothes right now,” Chad said.
“Huh?”
“The windows are tinted and no one can see inside,” Chad said. “You shake your naked ass for a living all the time. I don’t see as how changing inside a car should be any different.”
Treston saw the driver glance back at him in the review mirror and lick his lips. He was an older man with thin gray hair. “Well, it is different. I wouldn’t feel right, Mr. Pratt.”
Chad flung him a surprised glance. “You work at a strip club. I assume you take off your clothes every night on stage. I truly don’t see how it’s any different from changing your clothes right here in the car.”
Treston frowned and glanced down at his lap. He didn’t feel lightheaded and lucky anymore. Chad’s tone reminded him of Harlan’s tone and he wanted to get out of the car and go back to work. “It’s hard to explain, Mr. Pratt. But it is different. When I’m up on stage there’s an invisible wall between me and the audience. I’m performing and it’s not real. If I started to take off my clothes now it wouldn’t feel right.”
Chad laughed and tapped the back of the front seat. He leaned forward and said, “Pull over and stop the car. Princess Beatrice here wants to change into her royal outfit.” Then he smiled at Treston and said, “We’ll get out and wait while you change, Your Highness. Is that okay?”
“Well, I guess so,” Treston said. He started to wish he hadn’t climbed into the car with Chad.
When the driver pulled over and the two men climbed out, Treston reached into his backpack and pulled out his black pants and white shirt. He looked around to make sure the driver wasn’t watching, then took off all his clothes. It took him less than three minutes to open the back door and say, “I’m ready. You can get back in now, Mr. Pratt.”
When Chad was in the car and they were moving again, he glanced in Treston’s direction and said, “That’s much better.” Then he removed his tuxedo jacket and tie and tossed them on the floor. “We look good together. You’re not bad-looking at all. You’ll do very well.”
“I guess I’m not as nice-looking as the blond guy who ran off in the taxi,” Treston said. He’d always been his own worst critic, devoid of all pretenses. When he saw men like the perfect blond man who took off in the taxi, he often felt intimidated and wound up underestimating his own power over men.
Chad set his jaw and said, “Don’t get me started on that one. I have never met a more self-centered asshole in my life. I’ve given him everything and look at how he repays me. Do you know why he’s mad?”
Treston shrugged.
“He’s pissed off because I slept with his brother,” Chad said.
Treston blinked.
“I was going to ask him to marry me,” Chad said. “But I’m glad I found out he’s nothing but a gold-digging asshole with no feelings.”