Whenever possible, Angel ignored the moron and focused on Wade. “You said if I landed a job at the Phoenix, then…” He glanced quick at the other man. “Then I didn’t have to do this anymore.”
“Well I kind of thought you would actually be bringing in more cash.” Wade pointed out. “But so far…we ain’t seein’ much.”
“I told you.” Angel said tightly, quietly, “This weekend should bring in a lot of high paying customers. I’ll get some money then.”
Axel slapped the table and Angel jumped. “We need it now. Tonight.” He swept his hand over the table. “We need beer. And weed. We can’t wait till this weekend, dumb shit.”
“He’s right.” Wade said. “We’re out of stuff right now. So unless you got a wad of cash stuffed in that crotch, ‘fraid you’re gonna have to get it for us other ways.” He arched an eyebrow. “You got cash on you now?”
Angel trembled. “No.” he whispered.
Glancing at their guest, Wade held out his hand. The man snorted and dug out a small bundle of stained bills and slapped them into Wade’s palm. “Two hundred?” Wade inquired.
“Ayuh.” The guy grunted then stood up. Angel backed away instinctively, though he knew it was futile to retreat. “So go get dressed for the occasion, baby.” The man told him. “And turn on the music.” He grabbed his crotch through his baggy pants. “Wanna be good and hard when I tap that ass.”
His breath quick and stomach churning, Angel nodded silently and left the kitchen to dress down, wondering if real hell could possibly be any worse than his private hell right here in this apartment.
Chapter Six
Demons in My Mind
The club owner was fat and sweaty, his hair shoulder length and stringy. He shoved some leather garb at the boy. “Put this on.” He smirked around the butt of a cigar. “We got a special show tonight, see what you’re made of.” He turned away, pulled out his wallet and began stacking bills in the hand of a third man. “Half now, half after the show. If the boy don’t perform, you don’t get the rest.”
“He’ll perform.” The guy assured then looked hard at the boy. “Won’t you?”
The boy nodded silently, eyes filled with tears. He struggled to pull them back but they refused to recede. He wasn’t stupid; he knew what was going to happen tonight.
When the two men left, he broke and cried as he slowly undressed and tried to figure out how the leather outfit was supposed to go on. It mainly consisted of a black leather G-string, leather choker with silver studs and matching bracelets. The choker and bracelets had metal half rings. To complete the outfit was a black leather mask that covered his eyes.
Less than twenty minutes later, he was ushered to the rear entrance of the small stage and shoved through the curtain. The dingy club was packed with sweaty, horny men–some old enough to be his grandfathers, most old enough to be his fathers. When they saw him, whistles and catcalls exploded through the confined area, vile remarks were slung at him. He tried to close his ears but there was just no way to block them out. He struggled to swallow the sobs piling in his throat.
Standing near the pole in the center of the stage were two other performers. Both dressed much like the boy, one gripping a leather whip in his right hand. Their faces were covered with a black leather mask, giving them an ominous look. They were both lean and muscular, bodies glistening with oil and sweat. As the boy approached hesitantly, the guy with the whip stepped back as the second man took hold of his wrists and raised his hands above his head, up the pole. Straps hung down from above with clips on the ends. The man snapped the clips onto the half rings of the leather bracelets, securing the boy’s hands in place.
Tremors rushed through him and the tears broke loose, seeping out around the mask and down his cheeks. The guy holding the whip pressed up close behind him, a prominent bulge to his crotch as it pushed snug against his bare ass. He squeezed his eyes shut tight and choked on a swell of sobs. The tail of the leather whip slithered around his body slowly as the guy’s concealed face pressed close to his ear. A hard sob escaped the boy and he pushed his forehead against the cool metal pole, shaking.
***
“Angel?” Maddy whispered, fear in his quiet voice.
Huddled up against the cold wall, Angel curled into a ball, shaking, trying to keep his cries as silent as possible, not wanting Maddy to hear. But the boy crawled from his mattress to Angel’s bed and touched his shoulder tentatively.
“Angel?” Tears thickened Maddy’s voice. Angel was all he had and he knew it scared the boy when he cried, showed weakness.