This has taken a ridiculous amount of time to get around to finishing. I can only offer apologises.
It wasn't meant to be like this. He was meant to finish catering college and get that dream job. All those sacrifices that he and Amy made were meant to be worth it. He was a fully qualified chef with a load of varied experience. His resume was as good as anyone else in his class. He had been near the top of his class. He still couldn't get a job that paid more than he had been on when he was unqualified. He'd been offered a placement in London which he had to turn down, he wasn't leaving his kids. He hadn't told Amy because she would have wanted to explore the options or insist that he went and they would work something out, she would have talked him into going, that it was the kind of opportunity that he couldn't afford to miss out on. That a few months, maybe a year away, maybe more than that would be for the best in the long run.
"Come on Billy you know I won't let you down." He follows him through the chairs towards the bar.
"I can't afford to take the risk. Copper get even a whiff of prostitution."
"I'm not a prostitute!"
"I can't afford to lose any profit."
He looks around the room, the top of the line TV's, the new tables, and the massive fully stocked bar. Not to mention the top of the range BMW parked outside.
"I can see you're on the bones of your arse."
"I'd love to help you Ste."
"Then let me work a couple of nights." He pushing and he knows he's not going to get anywhere but it's worth the effort. He flat out refuses to beg.
"It's no go, sorry, now I'm a busy man if you don't mind..."
He doesn't bother saying anything else, there's nothing to say.
He'd tried everywhere he could think of, they all came back with the same answer. Love to but no. Brendan's word was holding. He thought that by now some of the club owners would back down and take him on, he was wrong.
"I don't see what's so wrong with Brady's." Amy states as he rests his head in his hands. "That Brendan seemed alright. You didn't come home bruised when you worked for him."
"Thought you didn't want me dancing."
"You're the one that shot me down yesterday when I said you didn't have to do it, that I rather you didn't. We can't afford me not to. Ring any bells? I'd rather you worked somewhere safe."
He can't explain to her the entire reason he doesn't want to go back to Brady's is because his boss thinks he's a manipulative whore and spent the last week he had worked there with him shouting at him. It was far too awkward, frankly embarrassing to explain to Amy how he had made a complete arse out of himself with a man he can't get out of his head. Who hates him now, if he ever liked him before.
Brady's was safe though. Brendan always looked after everyone, made sure his bouncers did the same. He had made the top of Brendan's shit list and still Brendan looked out for him.
He rolled his shoulders a fraction. He always made good money there. Brendan didn't take too heavy a cut. It was the best… The only opportunity around.
"I'll ring Mitzeee." He sighs and drops his head onto the table.
She can only offer him three shifts. The rosters pretty much full and the only way he's going to get more hours is if someone's ill or wants a night off. He has to be on permanent back up. Ready to come in at half an hours notice or less.
"It's not really what I was after." He needed five shifts and a Saturday at least until he could find himself another job other than Janet's café. He was meant to be going places and he was right back where he had been before college. Worse off. If he had gotten into this kind of hole before college he would have worked in several clubs, any shifts they needed, now with his reputation fucked he was going to have to take what he could get and prey that someone left the club to get the hours he needed to make the money.
"If it was anyone else I'd be saying no full stop end of story."
"Don't have much choice do I?"
He dragged his feet the entire way to the club for his first shift back. He needed the job. He needed the money but shit he didn't need to deal with Brendan.
There had been a lot of changes to the roster. Doug had gone back to America, he had called to say he was going while he was working in Liverpool and hadn't been able to get back to go out and say goodbye. Jack was working as a porn star and barely made two shifts a week. Ross was finishing up with university and struggling to do more than a few shifts. Simon was working more on the managerial side of things. He was still working shifts here and there but he no longer ruled in the dressing room which had left the kind of power vacuum that he didn't want to deal with. All these new guys, some brand new, some more experienced and some that had come in from other clubs they were all looking for position.
It was the kind of politics he had never had any time for. In some ways it was lucky he was just filling in, they tended to leave him out. He didn't matter to them because he wasn't much use. He wasn't around enough to count. It was the money he was after anyway having friends or at least people acknowledging his existence wasn't the top of his priorities.
Brendan wasn't working the same nights he was in. Which other than being a relief was also frustrating him. He didn't particularly want to clear the air with him. The longer he was working at the club though the more he wanted to. Whatever Brendan was going to say or not say about him being back he just wanted to know. Maybe he wouldn't say anything. Not a word. Not even a glance.
There were a few new bouncers knocking about and since he was experienced and not a full timer he was always given a new one. Mitzeee said it was because she trusted him to get himself out of most situations without needing back up.
"Want to suck me off?"
"Not allowed." He replies evenly. It was better than flat out saying no. Blame the management rather than flat out refusing on the basis that he'd rather suck a urinal block, probably taste better given the stench he was giving off... He had a pound for every time a bloke offered him that he wouldn't need to be grinding his arse for money.
"Not here. My cars not far."
"I'm working." He replied more firmly.
"Horny little fucker like you bet you're gagging to suck a nice raw dick."
Ali, his bouncer for the evening gives him a smirk of amusement. Clearly not about to step in.
He slides his hands up the man's shoulders resting his upper arms there and tapping his wrist behind than man's back. This blokes had more than enough of his time. He's given the bloke a decent showing. Ali wasn't even looking at his watch. His move had brought his upper chest to the man's face and he licked him before he could pull back.
"Thought I said no touching."
"I was tasting."
He would punch him, only it isn't worth losing his job, tempting though.
"Time." Ali finally calls offering a smile to the man and waiting patiently.
"You never learn how to tell the time?" He snaps as soon as they're far enough away heading towards the back.
"Oh I can tell the time just wondered how long before you snapped and decked the pratt."
"Yeah cos that's your job innit. Wind me up. Get me fucking sacked." He hisses.
"Like I'd let it go that far…" To be fair Ali had never let him get into trouble he was just a wind up merchant and liked to get a rise out of him. "You're funny when you're angry."
"Funny? You're lucky I need this job."
"My watch weighs more than you."
"So?"
"Not like you'd ever take me."
"Taken down plenty of blokes bigger than you." Possibly, maybe, well not quite as big but still.
"Alright you're a terrier let it go."
"Terrier?"
"What it's not an insult." Ali states offering his hands up in surrender. "You ever seen a Jack Russell ratting their nasty little bastards, cute as fuck though… More of a resemblance than I thought."
"Get bent."
"Gentleman on table 4." Ali smiles and gestures for him to go ahead.
He takes his breaks on the balcony knowing that it's safe, that Brendan's not in the office even if he was, he's used to taking his breaks up there away from all the shit downstairs. He looks over the patrons. Watches whoever is on stage.
"Peachy returns."
"I've been back three weeks." He doesn't bother even looking at Simon. He doesn't want to either. He doesn't need the humiliation.
"So I've been told. And yet you've been hiding away on the dark dull nights. Steven my pretty you will never get anywhere unless you work a Saturday. I thought that I had taught you that at the very least."
"Mitzeee gives me my shifts, I don't get a say."
"Ah but it's not Mitzeee pulling your strings." He hates the smugness on Simon's face.
"What's that mean?"
"Someone's avoiding you."
"Don't know why he's bothering." He shrugs. Brendan wasn't the one that made a tit out of himself.
"Exactly." Simon states leaning in closer. "You were a one time thing… You must have been dynamite to get him reacting like this, when you should be just another twink."
"I am just another twink he's avoiding me so I can't blackmail him."
"Really need to improve your opinion of yourself… Thing is I can't do my slots on stage Saturday night. Got a twinge in my groin can't work the pole."
"Must be a first."
"You'll cover for me."
"Like I said Mitzeee…"
"All sorted. So I will see you Saturday and you will not let me down."
"Or what?"
"Don't look a gift horse in the mouth here Steven."
"Ste breaks over." Ali calls from the bottom of the stairs.
"See you Saturday." Simon states firmly.
He about to ask Simon what would happen if he told him where to stick it, not that he needs any pointers… He can't turn down what Simon's offering. The biggest money making night of the week and all it means that he could possibly see Brendan. What's the worst that could happen? Brendan ignores him, that would actually be a good thing, awkward but better than… That's actually the best scenario he can come up with.
He checks with Mitzeee in case he's the target of Simon stirring things up.
"I suggested it." She says breezily while she checks the stock on the bar. "Not a problem is there. You said you'd work any shift I offer."
"No, no problem."
"That's what I like to hear. I want your best work."
He makes sure he's as close to late without actually being late as possible. Barely gives himself enough time to get changed. He doesn't know whether it's made things better or worse because it's not making him any less jittery. It's ridiculous. What's Brendan going to do? He's hardly going to shout across the club that they had fucked but Ste couldn't handle it, that he'd turned in to a drama queen. More likely he would shout that his dick had magical powers, that it was so good that anyone who had it in them wanted it again and no one could handed being rejected… He's an idiot. Brendan already made it abundantly clear that he didn't want anyone to know what had happened.
"You must give amazing head." Dave stated blocking his way to the door.
He rolled his eyes. He hadn't had much to do with Dave, he stayed out of his way. Dave wanted to play dressing room politics, divide and conquer the dancers to try and get himself to top of the tree.
"I do, what about it?"
Dave looked shocked for a moment, wrong footed.
"Explains how you got Simon to give you his slots… He fuck you too? Did you beg? Please Mr Walker I'll do anything… Flutter your eyelashes at him, play the virgin for him? He give it to you? Well don't expect it to last. A hole's a hole."
"Coming from experience." He smirked, it was a shot in the dark but it hit the mark. "He promise you the world only to drop you like a sack of shit… Lesson for you there you want to get anywhere here don't fuck Simon. He doesn't respect you in the morning. After all a hole is a hole."
"Ste you're wanted on the floor."
"Yeah best get warmed up."
"You cocky little…"
"You should watch me on stage, get some pointers." He stated pushed past Dave deliberately knocking his shoulder as he walked to Ethan.
"That was a stupid move." Ethan said as they walked out onto the floor. It was a stupid move but he was so on edge that it had felt good to knock Dave down a couple of pegs.
"What's he going to do?"
"Brendan likes him… He holds a lot of sway."
He sighed. Of course Brendan liked Dave. It was just the way his life went these days. Dave goes running to Brendan and Brendan has a great reason to get rid of him once and for all. If he knew Brendan though, if what he thought he knew about him was right, he was fairly sure that he would laugh in Dave's face or just kick him straight out the office.
He doesn't look up to the balcony even though his eyes are almost drawn there automatically. He forces them down to the customers, looks around to see if there's any high rollers that could start his night with a big fat tip.
His luck isn't in with the early crowd but it picks up after he does his first dance on stage. Slow rolling grind of "Fall at your feet" that's a little too sad to really let go to even though there's a undeniable tension which makes up for the lack of bass. And the lyrics work well enough. It's Simon's thing, dancing to highly emotional song's. He has the kind of body to pose with, the strength to hold moves longer. He finds himself blagging a lot of it. Oozing confidence that he doesn't feel.
He hasn't worked the pole solo for a long while, filling in here and there hasn't been conducive to landing decent slots or any slots. He's not meant to be here. He's not meant to be needing to do this anymore.
Leah and Lucas. They're the only thing that get him through the performance. He's doing this for them. Or is he doing this for himself? And if he is why is he doing it? He doesn't enjoy it. The grubby looks of the older men who would have their hands all over him if only there weren't rules. He's never been ashamed of what he does, only he wasn't meant to keep needing to do this.
As soon as he's off the stage he goes into the back, sits in the far corner with his head in his hands. His shift isn't finished. He's still got another performance. He looks around the dressing room, Chris oiling his chest while Adam dries his hair off. Dave's comes in and glares at him. He hasn't got it in to give him another run of shit if he doesn't have to. He pulls his hoodie on and walks up the steps to the balcony. He leans over with his head on his chin. The bright lights all look a little bit duller. The thundering bass is just noise.
He closes his eyes and tries to will himself to find that part of himself that used to love this, that loved the tease.
He knows without looking that Brendan is the one that comes to stand next to him. The direction he had come from, just the feel of the air and the weight of his presence is enough to know who it is.
"Just leave me alone." He doesn't need to be shouted at and he certainly doesn't want to deal with Brendan.
"Drink?"
He shakes his head.
He hears Brendan sigh.
"Come into the office."
He shakes his head, straightening up and turning to face him.
"What part of leave me alone to you not get eh? I don't need any more shit right."
Brendan raises an eyebrow at him.
"Sorry, alright sorry." He didn't mean to snap. Well he did but he didn't mean to be so sharp. He sighs and says what he supposes he needs to save his job. "Please don't fire me." He can't keep the sarcasm out of it.
"Follow me."
"I've got…"
"I'm not asking."
"Where do you…"
"Shut up for once in your life and follow me."
It's not like he's got a choice… He does have a chose but he finds himself following Brendan anyway, down the stairs and down into the cellar. He gets goose bumps from the cool air and his nose wrinkles at the stale beer smell. He frowns as Brendan unlocks a door at the very far end of the cellar. He didn't even know there was door down there. All the times he had been down in the cellar over the years and he hadn't paid any attention to it.
The hinges squeal a little as Brendan opens the door and gestures for him to go inside.
"Not gunna lock us up down here are you?"
"Tempting."
The way Brendan says it, so dead pan with a hint of a playful look in his eyes tells him that there's nothing to fear even though he knows that he should.
"Just so you know Ames will call the coppers if I go missing." He says as he enters. Frowning at the darkness, then blinking at the lights come on. There's not a lot in the room. A desk, a chair, a couple of empty crates, a well worn punch bag, boxing gloves on the floor to the far corner. Other than that it's a brick room if two windows at the very top of the walls and a distinctly damp smell.
He stands in the middle of the room, frowning as he watches Brendan stride around the desk, pull out a draw and pull out a bottle of whiskey and two tumblers.
"Drink with me." Brendan states as he offers a half full glass in his direction.
He takes the bottle off the table and knocks back a good mouthful.
"If I'm gunna get sacked for drinking on the job may as well do it in style."
"You're a classy fella Steven."
"Yeah well." He shrugs. So what. "Dragged up isn't that what they call it? Me Mam never needed a glass when she were getting drunk." He takes another pull then places the bottle on the desk. "Saves on the washing up."
Brendan gives him a half smile and swirls his drink before knocking it back.
"So what is this place?"
"Simon wanted an office." Brendan shrugs at with a small smile. "Makes him feel important."
"So why'd you drag me down here then?"
Brendan purses his lips a little and takes another drink.
"You needed a break."
"I was on a break." He takes the bottle off the table and drinks again.
"Why are you still here Steven?"
"Er well it was you that…"
"I remember you telling me you were going to catering college. You should be finished by now."
"I am."
"Get kicked out? Fail?"
"Top of me class actually." He sneers slightly.
Brendan hums a little.
"Whatever thanks for the drink, better go home hadn't I? Can't go out on the floor again."
"You're better than this Steven." Brendan states.
"What's that mean?"
"You deserve better than getting touched up for money."
"Tonight's the first time you've talked to me in months, before avoiding me all you did is shout so you can keep your advice or whatever yeah."
"I don't want to see you here."
"You've made that clear, no need to tell me. Not an idiot. Surprised you even let Mitzeee give me a job again."
"That's not…"
Brendan stands, agitated, taking another drink before slamming the glass down.
"I can't watch you."
"Then don't." He doesn't know why he's still standing there other than Brendan's actually talking to him even if it's stuff he doesn't want to here. Brendan's talking to him and looking at him and he's been craving that for months. He feels special when he has Brendan's attention however fucked that is considering the history.
What's he thinking? He should just leave. One foot in front of the other out the door back to the stage maybe if Brendan didn't pull him then he could still work. Not that he wants to work. He really doesn't want to go back up there and grind into another horny's man's crotch while having the same filth poured into his ears.
"I don't like other men touching you."
He turns back towards Brendan. He's heard him wrong. He has to have.
"You what?"
Brendan looks up to the ceiling, then looks his straight in the eye.
"I don't like other men touching you, I don't like you being in the back rooms with them… I hate watching you work the floor but at the same time I can't keep my eyes off you…" He pours another drink for himself before continuing. "You've gotten under my skin Steven."
He swallows thickly.
"Manipulative whores are like that."
"Don't talk about yourself like that."
"Why not it's what you think."
"Don't ever tell me what I think." There's fury barely contained. The kind of fury that he's seen before. The kind that scares the shit out of him because he's seen it in the mirror. "You're not and will never be a whore."
"Told everyone I was though."
"I did what I had to do."
"What to fuck my life up?"
"To stop them taking advantage."
"You booting me…"
"I didn't know you then." Brendan snaps harshly. "I heard that you were one of Tony's favourites, that you got places by…"
"You thought that I fucked every boss I work for?" The silence stretches out.
"You threw yourself at me."
"I got carried away." He exclaims.
"I thought you were like that with everyone…"
"I'm not, I told you…"
"I know that now." Brendan replies sharply. "At the time I was… There was a lad, he worked for me, we… When we were done he blackmailed me… I was married at the time… When you… I was disappointed."
"Disappointed?!"
"I thought you were like him... I know now."
"Know what? That I'm not…"
"That you're exactly what I hoped you were." Brendan takes a pull straight from the bottle. A deep one, and another. "You're everything I want."
A laugh escapes him, unguarded and it shocks him. He can't believe what he's heard. He doesn't know what to do with any of it.
"I want you Steven."
...
He picks the music carefully. Something different than would ever be played at the club. He knows the clubs play list backwards. He spends far too many hours there between his shifts in the restaurant. It's easier than going home then come back and it means that he can spend some time either helping out re-stocking the bar or eating lunch with Brendan in the office.
He hasn't done this in two years and there's a doubt creeping in that he's not going to be as good as he used to be. Out of practice. Although not really.
He picks out a pair of black shorts, the ones that Brendan really liked, not that he ever said. He knows though. The number of times those shorts have caused almost public indecency because they were under his jeans and Brendan knew, he knows.
He contemplated Flash Dance (what a feeling) for about half an hour because he knew it would make them both laugh. Private Dancer had crossed his mind. He wasn't a stripper anymore and Brendan's made it clear that he's not doing it again. Even on a night off when Mitzeee had begged him to work the floor one look at Brendan's face had told him that rather than getting fucked within an itch of his life because when Brendan got jealous it lead to some of the most intense sex he'd ever had he'd end up with drunk, angry, sulking Brendan and that was not worth any tips he might make. He didn't enjoy it anymore anyway.
Brendan had put a word in for him with one of his friends that ran a top hotel kitchen about a week after their first date, fish and chips after work with warm beer before they went back to Brendan's one night after work.
It may have taken a couple of days to swallow his pride and go talk to Brendan's friend and another week for him to speak to Brendan, because what was he doing going behind his back getting him a job without asking him if he wanted to go for it. Even if he had really loved the idea of working there and it was a really good job. Great money with promotion opportunities and with that job in his CV it would get his foot through the door of a lot of places if he wanted to move on.
With Amy getting a promotion and his better wage they had been able to get another flat, a better one, he still provided half the rent even though Amy's boyfriend had wanted to pay his half. As he had said at the time. Spend it on the kids.
He checked cooker clock. Five minutes and Brendan would be home. Simon was managing the club tonight. And Mitzeee had called to let him know that Brendan had left work and was on his way.
He paused the song ready to use the remote to start it again and stood next to the chair. He would have dimmed the lights, enhance the mood except Brendan had a thing about it. He liked the lights up. He liked to see. He wasn't against that.
He heard the front door close and Brendan's keys hit the table.
He straightens his back and waits for Brendan to round the bottom of the stairs.
"What's this then?"
"Would you care to take a seat sir?" He puts his best or worst professional voice on. Too much, over the top. "Make yourself comfortable." Brendan cocks his head at him. "I trust you remember the rules sir."
"Look but don't touch unless… Do I have your permission Steven?"
"You'll keep your hands to yourself until I tell you otherwise… Sir."
"What about the rest of me?"
"I'll make a few exceptions."
Once Brendan is sitting, legs spread with his hands behind his back he turns the music on and slowly approaches. Taking his time. Remembering all the things that used to make him such a good tease. He places his hands on Brendan's chest while sliding his leg over his thigh.
"Take the shorts off."
"I'll take them off when I want, if I want."
"They're coming off."
He concedes without conceding. He'll take them off just not yet.
"Sure you used to have more patience." He starts to grind down on Brendan thigh letting his hands wonder across his chest and up his neck.
"That's before you started putting out at the drop of a hat."
"I do not."
"You beg for it."
"Shut up."
"Make me." Brendan leans forward to kiss him. He keeps his hands on his chest to keep him at bay the sighs and kisses him deeply. It's not like he could ever resist him anyway.