The music was too loud. Then again, the music was always too loud. But tonight, it was even louder and Spoony wasn't sure that he could take it.
He had been sitting in the dressing room for the last half-hour, not moving, just staring at himself in the mirror. He was supposed to be getting ready, putting on his stage make-up and getting into his trade-mark clothes, but he couldn't. Not tonight. Not after what had happened…
"Spoony!" The harsh voice of the stage manager cut through his thoughts. "You're on in five! Get your ass in gear!"
"Sorry," Spoony muttered, reaching for his clothes and starting to change.
His co-star looked over at him. "You okay, dude?" Linkara asked as he checked his face in the mirror for the tenth time.
"Yeah," Spoony said shortly. "I'm fine."
Linkara studied him for a moment as he grabbed his shirt. "You sure? You look kind of tired…"
"I'm fine," Spoony repeated. "Just had a late night… private performance, you know."
Linkara stared for a moment. "Did they…? I mean, they followed the rules…?"
"Yeah," Spoony said immediately. "They did. I'm just tired out, you know."
Linkara looked worried. "If you want to take the night off…"
"No," Spoony interrupted. "I need to do this tonight." He pulled on the fantasy-type thong that he had gotten when they had come up with the act. "Need the money."
"You just did a private performance!"
"Rent's due soon," Spoony muttered. "And I have to eat. And my nephew's birthday's coming up and…"
"Okay," Linkara sighed. "Just… if you're not up to it, it's okay. I can solo."
Spoony shook his head. "I'm up to it," he assured his costar.
"Two minutes, you two! Get your sorry asses backstage!"
"I've never heard anyone refer to our asses as 'sorry,'" Linkara snarked back at the stage manager, but he grabbed his coat and headed on back, Spoony following close behind.
"Ladies and gentlemen," the MC was calling as Linkara and Spoony took their places. "Please welcome the masters of swords and sorcery, the duo of epic proportions, Magic Gun and Mystic Blade in the Ultimate Fantasy!"
The music started, loud and obnoxious and with the same damn beat as every other song in the show. Spoony glanced at Linkara before forcing a smile on his face and beginning to dance.
You can roll me,
You can stat me,
You can play me
All night long.
The first rule of this job was to never complain. Headliner or not, everyone did pretty much the same thing. They went on stage, they did some dances that were supposed to be erotic where they thrusted and writhed on each other, they took off their clothes and smiled as the audience threw money at them. And they always smiled.
Please attack me,
And please hurt me,
Take my hit points
All night long.
God, Spoony hated smiling, especially when dancing to the song he and Linkara had been given for their act. It was one of the worst rock songs ever written, with a beat that pounded into your head and notes that didn't match at all and lyrics that were asinine at best, but the director, Chick—at least, she called herself a director, though God knew she didn't do much other than yell—had said that it fit their gimmick perfectly. "After all," she said when Spoony and Linkara had exchanged a look and started protesting. "It is about D&D and sex and fantasies and all that shit. And you two are the most popular dancers we've ever had, so you count as an ultimate fantasy."
Cause I'm gonna be
What you want to see
Whatever you want from me.
It didn't matter, really. As long as they were pulling off clothes and shaking their asses and touching each other in very inappropriate places, the audience didn't care what was playing.
Come on, baby,
I'm here to please.
I'm nothing less than your
Ultimate Fantasy.
He was just going through the motions, he knew, but Spoony had garnered enough of a reputation by now that no one cared. And it wasn't like they didn't have anything to look at—Linkara was giving a wonderfully intense performance as usual, though the few times they made eye contact, Spoony could tell he was worried, and whenever they touched, Spoony knew Linkara was being gentler than usual on purpose. Spoony responded by giving him his most lecherous smile and squeezing harder whenever he could.
Just a costume,
Just a stage name,
Just a character
To you.
Why they had decided to go with the RPG fantasy gimmick, Spoony would never understand, but that was only to be expected in what was described as a "nerdy, bisexual venue" like the Many Pleasures Lounge. It made some sense, he supposed, since both he and Linkara went with fantasy-type weapons for their stage names, though that didn't excuse the lameness of their routine. Nor did it explain why two people who wore completely different costumes and had completely different body types were put in a duo, other than collective popularity. Then again, they did move together well, due to being such good friends.
Please don't bore me
With your story,
Just let me be
Good to you.
Everyone—men, women, whatever—was throwing money at them, screaming and cheering. Even if it sucked, the gimmick was successful. Spoony did his best to do what he had to, pressed himself to Linkara when they moved together, thrusted forward as much as possible when they separated. Most of their clothes had been shed by now and Spoony was showing everything he had, smiling at the audience like he would like nothing better than to go home with them, even though there was nothing he wanted less.
Cause I'm gonna be
What you want to see,
Whatever you want from me.
Come on, baby,
I'm here to please,
I'm nothing less than your
Ultimate Fantasy.
As the song launched into one of the worst instrumental breaks Spoony had ever had the misfortune of hearing, his mind began to wander, even though he kept dancing, even though he kept smiling. He was remembering the previous night, when a wealthy client had come to him after the show and asked for a "private performance" at his home, offering a large sum of money for it. Spoony, desperately needing enough money to pay for rent and other incidental expenses after several nights of drinking with his coworkers, had said yes, but making it abundantly clear that the same rules had to be followed. Touching only if Spoony was in control. No one but the man paying him. And absolutely no sex.
He thought that it had been clear.
Cause I'm gonna be
What you want to see,
Whatever you want from me.
Come on, baby,
I'm here to please,
I'm nothing less than your
Ultimate Fantasy.
Finally, the song came to an end and Spoony was standing center stage, completely naked, Linkara standing beside him, pressed back to back up against each other. The audience was screaming, throwing money from all sides. Spoony and Linkara broke apart, took their bows, and started collecting what was thrown. Some of it would go to the owner, of course, but a healthy percentage was theirs. As soon as they had gotten all of the money off the stage, they grabbed the clothes scattered everywhere and started to retreat back to their dressing room.
The stage manager stopped them. "They sound like they want an encore," he commented.
"They always do," Linkara muttered back. "But we don't do encores. We only know the one routine."
"You two should work on that."
"If we did, we'd never get off the stage," Linkara snapped. "And Spoony already looks like he's going to fall over. We're done for tonight. Besides, the club will close in half-an-hour."
With that, Linkara grabbed Spoony by the arm and dragged him back into the dressing room, where Spoony immediately dropped his stripper clothes and started getting dressed. He didn't want to wear them more than necessary. Didn't want to feel them on his body. Didn't want to be reminded…
"Seriously, dude, what's up with you tonight?" Linkara asked.
"Nothing," Spoony said, pulling on his jeans. God, they were so comfortable right now.
"It's not nothing. You were zoning out through the whole performance." Linkara looked more worried than ever. "If something happened…"
"Nothing happened," Spoony snapped. "We got through it. We're done here." He moved to leave, but Linkara caught his hand.
"We're not done, we have to divide the earnings with Critic. And you're clearly not well."
"Leave me alone," Spoony said. "I did what I was supposed to. I don't have to do anything else tonight. Just save me my cut, would you?"
"Critic will take it if you're not there."
Spoony knew it was true so he simply sat back down and waited until Linkara had finished getting all the stage make-up off and putting his clothes back on. Linkara kept glancing at him, worried, but Spoony wasn't saying anything. He didn't need to.
"Okay," Linkara said. "Let's go."
They gathered up all the money they had earned and headed into Critic's office. The act from before them was just finishing up, and they left almost immediately upon seeing the duo. Critic gave them his usual smile.
"Well, boys, what do we have today?" he asked as Spoony and Linkara put the money on his desk.
"We'll let you count it," Linkara said. Critic kept smiling as he did so, but his smile disappeared as he finished.
"What the fuck is this?"
"Sir?" Linkara said in confusion as Spoony put on his best puppy-dog face. They had been through this several times and both could play their parts to a tee.
"The fuck kind of earnings is this?" Critic snapped. "Barely half of your usual average!"
"Well, sir, it's a Sunday night. People have work in the morning and…"
"No excuses," Critic snarled. "You two are our headliners. If you can't earn a good salary on a slow night, what's the point of you?"
Normally, Spoony would tune out this conversation, sit back and wait until Critic was done shrieking at them before taking his cut (always reduced when the earnings were low) and going out to get smashed. But tonight, it was the last thing he needed. Tonight, he knew that it was his fault, that he must not have given the right "come hither" looks to an eager audience. Tonight, he was too preoccupied to really concentrate on dancing and Critic yelling at him was just the icing on the cake.
"We did our best," Spoony interrupted, really not in the mood for this right now. "It's not our fault if people are cheap." He bit back the comment that the cheap ones were better. They didn't lure you into dark houses and have you perform, didn't offer you a drink afterward, didn't drag you, still conscious but unable to move into black bedrooms…
Critic turned his angry eyes on Spoony. "Are you arguing with me, Spoony?" he asked, his voice dangerously quiet. "Because I don't want to remind you again who's in charge here. And I don't want to remind you what I pay you to do."
Spoony didn't say anything else, but he glared at Critic, directly all his emotions at his boss rather than face them. It was enough, though, because Critic sat down and divided up the money, putting considerably less into Spoony's stack than his own, and even Linkara's. "There you go," he said. "That's what you earned, that's what you get. And Spoony," he said as the dancers grabbed their money and got up. Spoony turned back to him, still glaring. "Shut up and dance."