Chapter 12

Anton

"Loosy-Fuge" is just half a mile from the strip the hookers crowd. They used to turn tricks in the front parking lot, until new management came in and turned the club into a 'classy joint,' walls bathed in imperial purple light. I know for a little extra cash, most will still go the extra mile. I park the car in the lot marked “Loosy-Fuge Employees Only,” which they have never given me a hard time about and never will.

“What is this?” Becki asks. I’ve been fairly annoyed with her all day, other than when I got to dress her up like a whore and parade her around. Her stupidity is pushing my limits. Hopefully, I can scare her into keeping her mouth shut. “You’re bringing me to a porn shop, Anton? I’m not old enough to get in!” This, of course, didn’t stop her and two of her friends from sneaking into a shop near her house three weeks before her first tour. The sign on the door clearly said everyone walking through the door would be ID’d, but that was just a formality. The long-haired guy at the counter didn’t even look up when a trio of fourteen-year-old girls came in and started looking at the merchandise. Becki was suitably offended, but they didn’t leave until the clerk realized that the three of them couldn’t possibly be eighteen and chased them out the back door.

“You’re old enough to do whatever I say,” I snarl, staring straight ahead, never losing my smile. I must be nuts, sticking myself with this bubbly twit. Inside, the thumping dance music at least drowns out her inane chatter about how she thinks pornography is disgusting, and depraved, and demeaning, and demanding and... I’m wondering if I could still get her to work for me if I punched her in the face.

Joey comes up to me immediately with a way-open mouth smile. “Hey, Anton! How’ya doin’?” He’s almost as wide as he is tall, but I nearly crush his hand when we shake. He drags me roughly forward and embraces me.

Joey's brown goatee looks like he just stuck his face in a shedding cat. Joey steps back and looks at Becki. He doesn’t recognize her, even though he jerked-off to her spread in last month's Rolling Stone. “Who’s ya’ friend?” he asks.

I press a fifty dollar bill in his hand to make sure he doesn’t wonder if she’s too young to be here. “You don’t need to worry, my friend. You can trust my judgment.”

Joey pockets the bill without looking at it. He knows I wouldn’t play Scrooge with him. Waving me in, he says, "Anton, don’t worry, a friend of yours is a friend of mine!” The bimbo follows. All the flesh walking around in bikinis is driving me wild already. I’ve had relations with several of the girls working tonight and know for sure I could have any of them at my disposal with a smile and a dollar.

Becki lags behind me up to the bar and sits on the stool next to me. She’s staring at the ground and looks tense. Despite all the tabloid lesbian rumors, she’s horribly offended by naked members of the same sex. Shannon, who calls herself ‘Jewel,’ waves to me from the stage. The artistically shaved beaver wrapped around the brass pole on stage is offending every last sensibility Becki has.

Martino, the bartender, comes up to us. “Anton, how’s it going?” he asks, clasping my hand. “What can I get for you?”

They aren’t supposed to serve alcohol here, but I know about Martino’s personal stash under the counter. “Give me a whiskey and Coke,” I say. When he starts to protest, I wave my hand and say through a pleasant smile, “Don’t play games with me.” I lay a ten dollar bill on the bar and say, "This is for her,” jabbing my thumb towards Becki. I lay a twenty on top of it and say, “Don’t ask questions.”

He chuckles and pulls the half-empty bottle from under the counter. “And what can I get for you, sweetheart?” he asks the twit. She stares blankly at him and he says, “Soda? Water? Non-alcoholic beer?”

“Give... give me a Coke,” she stammers.

Martino smiles and mixes my drink. “So, what brings you to town, Anton?” he asks, pushing the tumbler toward me. “Aren’t you usually in South America at this time of year?”

Am I getting that predictable? “Central America,” I say. “Costa Rica." I down half the glass before he finishes pouring Becki's. She turns around to watch the girl on stage nearly riding the face of a bug-eyed, balding man with his chin resting on his knees. “I’m just passing through,” I say, swishing the glass around. “I have some emergency business to take care of in New York. I had to cut my vacation short this year.”

He refills my empty glass when I hand it to him, setting it on top of another twenty. “Your video business?” he asks. “Find new talent?” He points discreetly towards Becki, who isn’t paying attention to either of us.

I look over at her. “Yeah, she’s going to be doing some work for me.” I pull a cigar from the inner pocket of my jacket and light it with a candle. “I went to the ends of the Earth to find the best Becki Murphy look-alike I could come up with.”

Becki glares at me and looks away.

Martino smiles lustfully. “I”ll have to check it out. Don’t suppose you’ll let me ‘examine’ the merchandise?”

It delights me to see Becki sigh with disgust. “No,” I say. “I don’t want her broken in like that, not yet.”

Martino shrugs. “Hair’s a little off, and her nose ain’t that big, but yeah. Pretty close.”

“Why, Anton Lazarus, how are you?” asks Christie, or ‘Sky,’ as everyone knows her. “You have not been in here for quite a long time!” As I turn around, she straddles my knee and grabs my crotch. She’s in her late twenties and described her experiences with me as being like going to Heaven. She kisses my cheek and flicks my ear with her tongue. I described by experiences with her as sub par. For someone whose job is to turn men on, I would have thought she could have done a lot more than just lay underneath me. I still wouldn’t mind having her and Becki together tonight.

“I’ve been good,” I tell her, gliding my fingers up the inside of her thigh. “I’ve been thinking of you.”

“Oh, you’re a liar!” she cries, pretending to slap my face. She does nothing about my hand that is toying with the hem of her bikini bottom.

“I never lie,” I tell her, putting my other arm around her waist and pulling her close. She screams playfully, beating against my pecs with her fists. I notice Becki watching the scene with disgust and smile wolfishly at her. She turns away and concentrates on her soda. I pull Christie’s head close to my lips and whisper, “I need you to do me a favor.” Discreetly, I pull a crisp $100 bill out of my pocket and slip it in her hand. “Take my girl here in the back and give her the works." I tap her earlobe with the tip of my tongue. "I mean the works.”

Christie smiles at the bill and wraps it in her wad of money. She takes Becki’s hand and says, “Come with me honey, I have something to show you.”

Becki looks at her in horror and sits frozen.

“Do whatever she tells you,” I say in a voice that leaves no room for questions. “Anything,” I stress, sliding Martino my glass and another $20. I’m feeling pretty damn good. In a couple days time, a project I’ve been working on for some time will be complete. After that, I’ll be on vacation for a long time.

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