It was a day when he might as well have not gone to work. After all, the place was half empty and the only group was a bachelor party who certainly didn't expect to see him dancing and doing his striptease, they had more than enough with his two female companions. Sara and Penelope were amazing dancers.
That meant it would be another night without tips. Carlos didn't know how much longer he could survive on the meager floor and the few tips he managed to scrape for shaking his ass in front of strangers.
It certainly wasn't what he had imagined when he dreamed of being a dancer as a kid. But becoming an adult often meant watching multicolored dreams turn gray and become reality.
Jack, the owner of the place, was a nice guy. He didn't have a lot of money, he paid them well, as much as possible, and everyone who worked there knew he didn't have much left to save or do any work on the place. It would need a coat of paint and two of the stage lights needed to be replaced. But these were difficult times... they had been difficult for the whole world for years.
He had thought so many times about looking for another job. He was a good dancer, and he could even start anywhere as a waiter, but apparently living in Texas, being the son of an immigrant, even if he was born in the States, and had a postgraduate degree in philosophy, made him less valid for setting up drinks or working in an office.
Apparently, the best he could aspire to was dancing and stripping or mopping floors. Personally, he preferred the former. Many said it was undignified, but it made him happy to dance, in whatever form it took.
He didn't have to go out dancing, the guys at the bachelor party table were looking for tits and asses other than his own, which turned into a minimum weekly wage and a mere twenty dollar tip.
He counted the money in his wallet three times, hoping he had made a mistake, but there was no more than two hundred dollars in there, a lot of which he needed for his expenses.
At the end of the day, in the early morning already, he got into the car and looked at the metal box with the cross on top where he kept the few medications he could afford, a couple of pills for a headache, a sachet of antihistamine for a cold, and the last two doses of insulin he had, although one he administered right then and there. He felt so weak that he couldn't make it home without fainting or worse.
He had been feeling worse for days, rationing something as basic to survival for him as insulin was not the best thing for his health; but he didn't have the money to buy the necessary amount and his damn health insurance didn't cover him enough.
His mother had told him to find another job, something that would improve his situation, but he was only distressed at the thought of imagining himself in an office or being fired. Dancing was his life, his dream, his destiny and he wasn't about to give up so soon.
However he needed to buy more or in two days he would be out of doses. He didn't like the idea of ending up in the hospital because he hated questions about his health insurance or his lifestyle. He didn't want to explain himself to anyone.
He needed to buy more or in two days he would be out of doses. He didn't like the idea of ending up in the hospital because he hated questions about his health insurance or his lifestyle. He didn't want to explain himself to anyone.
He didn't have a pharmacy he trusted, because apparently, he was the one who didn't convey confidence to pharmacists, so he walked into the first pharmacy he found in the neighborhood.
He handed the pharmacist the prescription he always carried with him and leaned against the counter. It had been a long night and he was exhausted.
The pharmacist looked at the prescription, then at Carlos and at the prescription again, as if it was somehow going to change as he swiped the barcode and again looked at Carlos.
"Is everything all right?"
"Sorry, but until next month you don't have any more boxes of insulin on your health insurance."
Carlos smiled bitterly. "What happens is that I need one more box to finish the month."
"I'm sorry, if you want one more box, you'll have to buy it for full price." the pharmacist said with the same calm gesture as a moment before.
"Are you telling me that my health insurance doesn't cover the medication I need to survive?"
The woman in front of him then showed a certain gesture of pity, because that was what she felt for him, pity and little else. She said nothing and with that she answered his question, because there was only one possible answer.
Carlos nodded reluctantly and pulled his wallet out of the backpack he carried on his shoulder.
"Okay. How much is a box at regular price?"
The pharmacist typed into the computer. "Three hundred for the long-acting, 220 for the short-acting. Total is a little over five hundred dollars."
He didn't need to check, he already knew he didn't have that kind of money, but he did anyway. He needed to set aside a hundred dollars for receipts and groceries, so he couldn't spend more than a hundred dollars on the insulin.
"It's all the same...I'll survive, I'll wait until next month. It doesn't matter."
He turned and walked away without further ado. It wasn't the woman's fault for not selling him the insulin, he knew the problem was with the system, the same system that wouldn't allow him to get the job he wanted, or have the salary he needed to afford the insulin to have a normal life.
There were still eight days left until the end of the month and he barely had one and a half doses left, he was going to have to stretch what little he had left, feeling like dying, praying he wouldn't, and waiting until he could no longer take it.
*
TK went for a run, as he did every morning, it helped him get his mind off the nightmares he spent all night with. He had made too many mistakes in life and now it seemed like they were all piling up in his head.
Running when it was still cold and when the sun was still rising, cleared his head and felt good.
He used to run up to ten kilometers without any problems, but he kept doing it a little longer. He stopped when he was already out of breath, resting his hands on his knees and taking a sharp breath until he heard the sounds of a car approaching him.
He recognized it. He had thought he would never see it again, but there it was, right next to him, and all he could think of was to run. He ran down a pedestrian street lined with garbage cans and ran as fast as he could. With any luck, if he was fast enough he would lose sight of him.
But as he turned the next corner, the same black car appeared and almost ran him over, but stopped just before he did. TK jumped up and rested his hand on the hood of the car.
Before he could do anything else, the driver's door opened and a face he knew all too well appeared smiling.
"Did you think I wasn't going to find you, TK?"
"Alex, I told you I was going to pay back everything I owe you."
The other man approached him revealing that he was carrying a gun in his waistband.
"You said that five months ago and I'm still waiting. I'm getting tired, TK, I assure you I have a lot less patience than you think and if I have to make it any clearer to you, I can do it."
"I promise, I'll pay you in a few days."
"You have a week. If you don't give me the money, I'll get it my way." He patted him on the shoulder, smiled at him, and gave him a couple of slaps on the cheek. "One week, not a day more."
TK stood there, watching the car drive away. When it was far enough away, he let herself be scared, his legs shaking and the air not entering his lungs.
He wanted to cry because fate would not let him start from scratch, he wanted to be happy or at least be himself. He turned around and kicked the container next to him.
"Fuck!"
The sound of a message that had just arrived on his phone prevented him from taking it out of the container again.
Mateo: Since we are leaving for Afghanistan in three days, the guys have decided that we should go out tonight, just us; one last night off. Are you in?
TK: And where do you want to go?
Mateo: You know the new strip joint downtown.
TK: You want to go see a striptease? And what would I do there, you know I'm not interested in half-naked women.
Mateo: The place is for everybody. There are passes with guys for guys. That's why they want to go, so you don't feel out of place.
TK: Are they really doing it for me?
Mateo: For you and because the girls are really hot. But, well, yeah, for you too.
TK: Okay, okay, they care about me. I'll go.
Mateo: Great!
He didn't feel like going to a strip club, but as Mateo had said, they had three more days before going to the other side of the world. It was the only way he could collect enough money to leave his past behind, as much as the war terrified him, as much as the idea of firing a gun against another person made him nervous, and he was sure that not all of his companions would come back alive.
He needed a way to get his mind off his life and his near future and that place really had good-looking dancers, at least he would spend a more or less pleasant evening.
*
"There's an audience for everyone tonight," Sara, one of his co-workers, said to Carlos.
They peered between the tables and he pointed to the one next to the bar. There were six young men talking there, loudly, so loudly that from where they stood, amidst the laughter, they could almost hear their conversation.
"See that one in the middle?" she said, pointing to the man with chestnut hair and green eyes who looked uncomfortable among the group or at least not laughing at the jokes the others were making. "He looked at Eddie like only someone interested in another man can do. I'm sure he's going to tip you well so you can now move your hips and put on that golden thong that marks you so much."
Carlos looked at him. He was certainly a good-looking guy, he had everything Carlos could like in a man and when their eyes met for a moment, Carlos gasped and withdrew his eyes with a smile.
"See? He's going to melt when he sees you."
Jack walked over to the two of them and put a hand on each of their shoulders. "Five minutes and out comes the first pass. Carlos, then you and the boys, you do your thing."
Carlos knew how to do his thing very well, he knew how to dance, he knew how to make a guy horny and how to make him not go near him other than to give him money. He liked his job, although dancing in a dance company would be much better.
But if there was one thing he really couldn't stand, it was the group of guys who thought they could afford to make fun of him, make fun of his work and himself simply because they were the stupidest guys in the world.
And there they were, at that table, all macho, all with their testosterone high after having seen the girls do their show and all wanting to laugh and have a good time, teasing him and his partners and with their incredibly sexist comments towards his female co-workers as if Sara and Penelope were not capable of listening to them.
As he danced and took off his clothes, he noticed that everyone was making obscene gestures and that some were tapping on the shoulder of the brown-eyed guy, who looked even more uncomfortable but kept looking at him.
The laughter increased when Eddie and Buck looked up.
Their friends had met at the bar, liked each other there and eventually fell in love, so they had no problem doing a raunchier number of their own, groping each other and heating up the atmosphere to get more of their own. They said they didn't mind people seeing their good chemistry if it made them more money.
"But it sounds like..."
"We're not prostitutes, Carlos." They had told him the first time they'd had that conversation. "Our boundaries end where our bodies end. No one touches us, no one lays a hand on us." Buck told him very seriously.
"And I sure as hell wouldn't share Buck with anyone." Added Eddie, who always talked about such things by circling his partner's waist. "We're not an open couple, we just allow those who come here to make some fantasies come true and then finish them at home.
Carlos was fine with it and so was the whole steady audience Eddie and Buck had, but there were also people who didn't understand it and thought that because they were public they could do or say whatever they wanted.
"Give you two a little kiss," one of the guys said and nudged his green-eyed friend to the stage when he wasn't ready.
Suddenly the handsome stranger found his hands resting on the stage, right in front of Carlos, so much so that seeing him look up, he leaned in close enough to reach up to stroke his hair and then chin as his client's eyes were fixed on his abs...or maybe lower.
Either way, Carlos smiled as he saw him blush, but he just stood there, stuck staring at her body. So he sat down on the floor, spread his legs, and leaned over his face until his mouth brushed against the viewer.
"Nah nah. Sorry." He whispered to him as she saw him part his lips, clicked his tongue and gave him a shove and pushed him back amidst the laughter of his companions.
"Come on, TK, get your hands on him he's craving it."
"And if you don't tip him anymore, that always works so they don't protest."
Carlos danced, trying not to hear the comments and laughter, he focused on the stranger (Kay?), crouching down in front of him and winking at him as he finished taking off his shirt and tossed it to him.
He was used to certain things, many times, if the guy in front of him deserved it and was polite enough, when he was on stage he accepted to be groped, because then the tickets arrived. On stage, they were the kings of the moment, just like their partners.
On stage they decided who played when and how much they played and nobody could tell them anything. He was playing with that shy guy with green eyes. He had all his attention on him, on his hips moving forward and his hands moving down his belly and... Yes, Carlos knew perfectly well what he was doing when he turned around and left in front of him his perfect ass.
The other guys were laughing, but his attentive fan, he was enthusiastic until the moment the music ended and he was lying on the floor.
"Hey, hey, you're getting laid tonight," one of the group said to the shy guy leaning on his shoulders.
"Get the fuck off me," He protested.
"TK, man, don't be like that." Suddenly another one of the guys grabbed Carlos hand, when he was getting up from the floor and pulled him off the stage and wrapped his hand around his waist while with the other he tried to touch him. Everyone was laughing, except for TK.
As best he could, Carlos broke free and gave the other man a shove and picked up his shirt off the floor, making his way to the back of the venue.
"Wow, you've scared him already."
"He just can't take anything. If he were a chick, he'd let himself be touched more, like anyone else."
Carlos stopped, he hated that kind of guy. He'd encountered too many like that, with very big hands. He turned around, put his shirt back on and walked in two strides towards the group laughing and following the joke.
"Hey, you!" They all turned around when Carlos talked. "The one who groped me. Are you sure you don't like guys? You were pretty sure where to put your hands."
"Are you saying I'm a faggot?"
"I don't know. Are you?"
Shouts filled the room, Eddie and Buck appeared behind Carlos and pulled him back just as the guy was about to throw a punch to his face. A fight at that moment was the last thing he needed. A single dance had already left him exhausted because he hadn't taken any insulin all day, he was holding out as long as he could and now he was using his last bit of strength.
A fight would probably send him to the hospital.
But it didn't come to pass because both TK and a familiar face got in the way.
"Mateo?" Carlos asked. "Is that you?"
"Carlos, man, I wasn't sure you would recognize me. It's been a while, isn't it?"
"Do you know him?" TK asked as he pushed his companions away.
"Yeah well, a long time ago... Carlos was my best friend, he used to live next door. Our parents were friends and we would have sleepovers all the time."
"You've grown up." Carlos said, still incredulous to see the boy he had been babysitter to become a man. "What are you doing here with them?"
"They're part of my company, we're leaving for Afghanistan in three days."
"Afghanistan? Wait, you enlisted?"
Carlos felt like the world was crashing down on him. He had known Mateo almost since he was born. Mateo had wiped away his tears when Carlos came out to him, scared he'd lose him, one Saturday night, and Carlos had helped him understand math. He had listened to Mateo talk about girls, about his girlfriend, Nancy, and how much he loved her.
He knew what it meant to enlist and it was dangerous, the chances of not coming home were too high.
Then he felt himself getting dizzy, took a step back and noticed Eddie grabbing him. Buck and Eddie knew him, knew his problems with sugar, nerves and fatigue.
"You need to eat something," Buck told him.
"And don't worry about those guys, they're jerks," Eddie added, pulling him a little more. "I'll tell Paul to fix you a sandwich. When was the last time you ate and rested?"
"Ahm... I had breakfast."
"And you haven't had any shots today have you?" Buick added. "Sometimes you look like you want to let yourself die."
He wrapped his arms around his waist, it wouldn't be the first time he'd passed out on the premises, he'd already given them more than one scare and they both saw the alarms in time. They would take him to the kitchen, force him to eat, rest and take him home.
"And don't worry about those guys, they're jerks," Eddie added, tugging on him some more.
"Hey, wait."
The voice made Carlos turn around. He was exhausted and not taking his insulin wasn't helping. He took a sharp breath and clenched his fists. He stood there for a moment when he saw that it was TK.
"What do you want?"
"To apologize for what they said to you. They're jerks, I know."
"And why are you with them?"
"Because I'm going to spend months in Afghanistan with them and they're going to be the only people I know there. Except, Mateo none of them are my friends and it pisses me off when they behave like that."
"Yeah, well, just know that being around people like that..." Carlos leaned against one of the tables, he needed to lie down, to rest. "You look like one of them... although..." Eddie who'd stepped to the side to give him space came over again, ready to grab him if I fell to the ground, but Carlos motioned him over and stopped. "Thanks for ignoring them and not groping me...I don't like that kind of...Look, I've got..."
"Hey, are you okay?" said TK to him as he saw that he was shaking and having trouble saying a complete sentence.
"Don't... I'm fine... just tired."
But before Carlos could say anything, Buck dragged him to the back of the store, made him sit down and put in front of him an Aquarius and the sandwich that had already been prepared for him in the kitchen.
"It tastes like piss, I know, but you need it. Drink up."
Carlos gulped down half of the bottle with a grateful smile, trying not to think about those blue, disappointed eyes too big for his face that had stared at him until they had disappeared in the backroom.