“I’ve heard, but they gotta be better than living on the street, right?”
“Not necessarily.” Tristan gave us one of his trademark piercing stares, then nothing more.
That man is so fucking odd. I wonder what goes on in that mind of his.
“Well, I’m glad he’s got a roof over his head, is all. It ain’t good for someone to be livin’ on the street. Harlan told me he’s been mugged twice.”
“What’s his story? Have you asked what happened?” I asked, hoping I came across as neutral as possible.
Cort wound his lasso up before answering me. “I tried, but he won’t say. Just that he fucked up and lost his job and all his money, and his family don’t wanna talk to him. I think there’s more to it than that.”
“Well, that sounds like enough to me.” I stuffed my makeup back into my bag and set my crown on my head. The music banged, and I waited for the usual excitement to rush through me, but my insides remained cold and sluggish.
You’re tired. That’s all it is.
For the first time I wasn’t so sure, but I cranked up the smile and bounced out of my seat. I needed one really big night so that I could stop working seven-day weeks.
“Time to roll.”
Cort and I walked with our arms around each other while Morgan and Tristan brought up the rear. A crowd awaited us by the edge of the dance floor, but my gaze searched for large tables. They would bring the biggest tips. Spotting a group of suits getting seated in a booth, I decided to make an early score. I kissed Cort on his cheek. “Bye. I see some live ones.”
Cort followed my gaze and gave my butt a pat. “Go get ’em, tiger.”
With a big smile plastered on my face, I danced my way over to the group. “Hey, boys. Anyone looking for a lap dance?”
A guy who had to be at least seventy patted his lap. “Come and give me a birthday dance.”
“Sure, honey.” I wiggled my way over, sat on his knees, and put my arms around his neck. “What’s your name? I’m Frankie.”
His kind brown eyes crinkled with laughter. “I’m Bernie. Bet I’m the oldest one you’ve had here in a while.”
“Age is a number, Bernie.” My hips moved to the beat of Madonna playing in the background, and he held on to my waist. “And, honey, you look fine to me. Like a good wine.”
His thick white hair shone under the lights, and his body felt trim and hard under his suit. No paunchy belly for Bernie. I bet he spent plenty of time in the gym, keeping himself in shape, because those muscles in his thighs didn’t come from sitting down all day. “And you feel damn good too.”
“I try. It’s not easy to stay fit when you reach a certain age.”
“You don’t have a partner, Bernie?”
“No. Never. I had a wife, but…” His gaze shifted to over my shoulder, and he stared out unseeing into the crowd. “If I’d had these places to come to when I was young, I might’ve had a happy life. I wouldn’t have had to pretend.”
“You feel like talking about it?” I stopped dancing and sat still. Bernie wasn’t a man here to cheat on his wife and to grab some ass. He’d spent a lifetime in denial. And this wasn’t for tips or to fatten my take.
Bernie patted my cheek. “Not really. Today is my seventieth birthday and the first time I’m coming to a place like this. Exposing my true self. Every other year I was too afraid or depressed. Too old and getting older. I don’t need to forget the past—it forgot me.”
No one should be sad on their birthday, and Bernie deserved me at my best. I began to dance again. “I’m glad you have friends to celebrate with and that you came here tonight. This club has been here only ten years, but we’re like a big family.”
“Oh, I know. In my day, everything was kept hidden in the Village. That’s where all the gays were. We didn’t dare venture out too far for fear we’d get beaten or worse. I applaud the owner here for opening in Midtown. We deserve to be seen everywhere.” He rubbed my back. “Now enough with the reminiscing. I’m here to get a dance from a cute guy like you and get my juices flowing. Maybe I’ll even try that Grindr. It isn’t too late to find someone, even at my age, right?”
The hope in his eyes slayed me, and I kissed him. “No. It’s never too late.”
That table took up over an hour of my time, but it was well worth it in the end. Not only did I rake in some serious cash, but I walked away with four business cards from people looking to have their homes renovated and, after confiding in Bernie my disastrous venture into the stock market, he offered to give Aaron and me free financial-planning advice and set up accounts for us with his firm. They all kissed me good-bye, and I headed over to José so he could take the money from me.
He whistled when I counted out my tips. “Nice.” Close to seven hundred fifty dollars—and that didn’t take into account my cut from the service they were charged. “You deserve a break. Wanna margarita?”
“Yeah.” I rubbed my hands together. “Thanks.” I took the icy-cold glass, and spotting Aaron entering the club, gave José a nod. “I’ll see you later. Gonna go say hi to Aaron.”
I could tell the moment Aaron saw me. His face lit up, and his body relaxed. More than anything, I wished he could find comfort around other people, not only me. Talking about what had happened in prison helped, but I knew it would take much more time and therapy for him to come to grips with everything in his past.
