"That's ten bucks," I said, almost robotically. It was a set of words I had gotten used to over time because I said them every weekend. I had been doing this since high school, charging people to get into a completely free party. At first, I did it just to see how far I could go, but then I realized that I was getting so much more money in one night than I would as a full-time worker on my dad's farm. I was 22 now, doing it at college parties in the city.
"Ten bucks for what?" the kid asked. He had glasses and ears that stuck out like two open taxi doors. Next to him was a girl with a similar, nerdy style. They both looked out of place. Inside was a completely different realm: alcohol swept the air like a breeze and drunken bodies sprawled out like leaves. It seemed like they were going to get demolished. But, I didn't care; I was just here to collect.
"It's five bucks each to get in. Now, there are two of ya and five plus five equals ten. But, I'm sure you already got that simple math. Don't ya, Einstein?" I put my hand out in front of them and it was met with a crisp ten-dollar bill and a grunt from the man giving it to me. I graciously stepped aside from the door and welcomed them in, stuffing the money in my pocket. If he didn't give it to me, it would have made no difference— he just wouldn't go in. Although, I never went in either.
By the end of the night, I had about $450 and I was getting too tired to continue. I did have work in the morning and couldn't be late. I was far past the probationary period, but the private construction company I worked for serviced powerful, wealthy clients who couldn't get rid of money if they asked. They could have you fired faster than clicking a pen.
Needless to say, I soon found the hood of my jacket flipped up and my hands stuffed in the pockets. I normally parked far down the street or at least a block away because I didn't want nearby people to spot me. It was just a precaution that was drilled into me and it stuck with me everywhere. As I was walking down the path, though, a luxury SUV pulled up to the house, and a large group piled out. I had half a mind to go back to the door and collect, but I didn't want to push my luck, not with the guys who came out.
They all just looked rich, every one of them. The clothes they wore were name brand, the car that dropped them off had to be a new model, and the way they carried themselves made it obvious they were just sitting on money (despite stumbling around from a hardcore pre-game). I couldn't help but roll my eyes. There was, however, one guy that lingered in the back and stood out like a sore thumb. He was short (shorter than me at least), tan, and had a smile that shined as bright as the sun. I felt my heart stop shortly, but I snapped out of it as he approached me and we made eye contact. Immediately, I shot my head down, but I felt his radiating grin linger on me.
I looked back quickly before I stepped off the curb and found him looking at me with contemplation. Ordinarily, I would push on and not even think about the people that go to these parties. But, for some reason, I stopped. He stopped, too, and I knew my cheeks were red by now. Every precaution and rule I made for myself when doing these things went out of the window. I opened my mouth to say something, anything, but he was pulled inside with a loud laugh before I could. He looked at me with an apology and before he could open his mouth, I took off. I was an idiot for stopping in the first place.
As I continued my way down the street, I heard someone call behind me and I clenched my fists in my pockets. This was why I didn't stop. Once I made up my mind to go, I was to go. I didn't want to create any trouble, otherwise, I would do something regretful.
"Hey!" I heard. I turned quickly and was met by the beauty from before. Even his voice was angelic. Still, I said nothing. He stared at me and smirked, smiled even. "812-960-7750," was all he recited before turning around and going back to the house. The numbers burned themselves into my mind and I jogged to my car once he got out of view. My heart felt like it was going to burst out of my chest. Once I got into my car, I locked the doors and put my head on the steering wheel. I let a long exhale out that I didn't even know I had and put the numbers in my phone. I didn't even have a name for the contact, but I still felt like it belonged there.
I drove home in silence, letting my thoughts fill the air. It didn't matter if I texted the number or not because it wouldn't go anywhere. I couldn't mix with that crowd even if I wanted to; Dad wouldn't let me. While he technically wasn't responsible for me anymore, he still had a hold on my actions and I couldn't cross that line. I pulled up to the house reluctantly.
"Hey, Ma," I said as I walked up the steps. She got up from her seat on the porch and gave me a hug and kiss on the cheek. She usually sat out here when it was a clear night. She prayed and did whatever else, not sure what.
"Hey, honey. I'm glad you came over," she sat back down.
"Where's Dad?" I asked. She pointed to the screen door that was lit up from the house's inside lights.
"He's inside, you know, at the table playing some cards." I nodded her off and took my boots off at the door.
"Dad," I greeted him at the table. He barely looked up at me from his solitaire game but motioned for me to sit across from him. I didn't live here anymore, but I came by a couple of times a week to talk to my parents about the farm and anything else they wanted.
"Son, how was tonight?"
"It was fine, good money. Those college kids ain't so smart, you know," I chuckled. I didn't want to mention the guy I briefly met. My parents knew I was gay, but the issue wouldn't be with that. The issue would be with the fact that I talked to them.
"Yea, you know them folks don't work as hard as they think," I nodded. "Farm's been busy, you know. Got a heifer that's pregnant, havin' trouble with it. Also got a problem with the silo, gonna need a hand,"
"Dad, you know I have that construction job, I can't help that much,"
"I'm not askin' you to be at my beck and call," he finally looked up at me. I saw something in his eyes. It was something telling, but I couldn't figure it out. "I'm just askin' for a weekend, Keith… One weekend," I looked at him, nodded, and held my hand out for him to shake. I would do it. My dad didn't ask for help. He normally just told people what to do. For him to even phrase it this way was out of character. I kind of felt obligated to help.
"Okay, fine," I agreed. "Oh, here," I finished the move for him and left. Things were changing already, I could feel it.