Page 24 of The End of Summer

“Stop calling me the talent,” I say. “That sounds weird.”

Big Mike pulls us into the Villages at Diamond Excelsior and drives down the road toward the Tidewater. I spot his truck in the parking lot, sticking out like the behemoth it is, and he parks my car next to it.

“Thanks for driving, man,” I say. “I appreciate it.”

“Well, you were certainly in no kind of state to do it yourself.”

He hands me the envelope of cash, and I shove it in my drawstring bag. “Talk to you tomorrow?”

“You got it.”

“Get home safe, bro.”

We leave my car and I head inside. At Gretchen’s door, I pause to listen. It’s quiet.Maybe she’s sleeping,I think. A normal person would be asleep on a Friday night at –what time is it, even?I check my phone.Midnight.

But I’m wired. I go into my apartment and count my cash. It’s $883. That’s a fuckinglotof money for one night. Definitely enough to cover the next month of groceries, hands down. And so what if it cost me my dignity? I don’t have to do it again if I don’t want to. This was only supposed to be a trial run, anyway. At least that’s what Steve, the guy who owns the company, told me on Zoom last week.

“Good audition video,” he’d said. “You danceoften?”

“Not really,” I replied. I’d watched the movieMagic Mikeand learned the steps to theIt’s Raining Mennumber Channing Tatum does with the umbrella. Luis had a golf umbrella like that in his dining room, so I used that – though it wasn’t black like the ones in Magic Mike. Instead, it was white withDiamond Excelsior Golf Clubwritten on it in royal blue block print. But I digress. I stood my bedframe and mattress up against the wall and pushed back all of the other furniture in the living room to make space, then set my cell phone up against the television to record myself doing the dance. The moves were pretty easy to learn – just lots of hip stuff. The guys in the movie crawled around on the floor a lot, I noticed. The women liked that – yes, Iknowthey’re actresses, but I don’t know. It felt convincing, as if real women might enjoy it, so I snaked around on Luis’ Pergo floors for my audition, too. Also, I didn’t have the right outfit – a trench coat and a rain hat – so I improvised with a zip up hoodie and a baseball cap. For the part where Channing jumps off the stage and starts grinding on the ladies in the audience, I just improvised using poor Luis’ kitchen chair. I cut the filming after that, since I didn’t have a pair of tearaway pants or anything like that.

“You ever strip before?” Steve had asked.

“No, but I’m a quick study,” I assured him.

“And how do you know Mike?”

“Oh, me and Big Mike have been friends since grammar school. We grew up together.”

“He’s good people,” Steve said.

“The best,”I agreed.

“And you’re cool with keeping this… discreet?” Steve asked.

“Um, yes. Absolutely. I definitely wouldn’t want anyone to find out about it.”

“Okay. Then we’ll try it out. I’ve got a small gig next Friday. Mike will be there. It’s all cash. You just need the clothes. They’re doing a masquerade themed thing – so I was thinking you could wear a Zorro costume. It’s one of our easy go-to costumes anyway. The pants snap down the sides. Make sure you practice with them at home so you know how hard to pull in order to get them off quickly. There’s also the mask, the hat, and the cape. And a vest. Also with snaps. Oh, and we use a whip instead of a fencing sword. You know – for safety.”

“Right. Um. What about… well, forunderthe pants?”

“Oh, yeah. So, you’re going to need a dance belt. It’s like the male dancer’s equivalent to a jock strap. It’s got some padding and support, gives you some lift, and fits nice and snug around your junk so nothing falls out when you’re dancing. You need to wear it under your G-string. The G-string for the Zorro costume is black with some bedazzling on it.”

“Where do I get that?”

“We’ll issue it to you. It’s the only part of the costume we don’t want back.”

“So, hold up.” I lowered my voice. “I have to wear a thong…overa thong?”

“Trust me, you’ll be glad you did. It makes everything look bigger, keeps an extra layer between you and the partygoers, and tucks it allup in there.”

“And I can buy these things from you?”

“Yep,” Steve says. “It’s $50 for the dance belt and $30 for the G-string.”

Fuck,I thought.That’s a pretty big investment for some tiny pieces of cloth I’ll never want to wear again.

“Trust me, if you perform half as good as you did in your audition video, you’ll make ten times that amount back next Friday.”

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