Take It Off
Marcus is in the middle of his routine when he happens to catch a glimpse of a group of men at a corner table. One of them is staring at him in shock. Marcus freezes for a second, and then just keeps going. He should have known this would happen eventually. If there's one thing politicians like it, it's strippers.
When he's done, he gets dressed and goes out the back to get some food. Unsurprisingly, his uncle's driver is waiting for him. Marcus slides into the back seat and waits.
His uncle's furious. “Is this how you're earning your money? Whoring yourself out? For god's sake, Marcus.”
“It's not like that!” Marcus protests. “It's a perfectly legitimate job.”
“The job I got you was a perfectly legitimate job. This is degrading and humiliating, Marcus. Get your things. You're coming home with me, now.”
“No, I'm not.”
“What?”
“You heard me.”
His uncle just stares at him. “Marcus, how could you do this? Without thinking of your mother, or myself? Do you realize what this would do to her if it got out?”
“It's nothing to do with either of you.”
“It's everything to do with us. My nephew parading around on stage, taking his clothes off. It's bad enough that you've always wanted to waste your life grubbing around in the dirt as though it could bring your father back, but this...I hadn't thought you could do worse, Marcus.”
“Don't talk to me about my father.” Marcus shouts. His uncle has no right. He wasn't there. He doesn't know what it's like.
His leg twinges at the memory and he starts to open the door to get out.
“You think this is a real job.” His uncle says quietly. “The man who was watching you...up on the balcony.”
Fuck, his uncle didn't miss a thing.
“He's the manager, I assume. You think he's missing out on turning out more profit? He'll pimp you out as soon as it's worth it to him.”
“You don't know him.” Marcus gets out of the car.
“You keep on like this, Marcus, and,”
“It’s my life.” Marcus shouts back at him.
“And you’re throwing it away.” His uncle almost looks regretful for a moment. “Do you think your father would want that?”
“I’m doing what I want.”
“Are you so sure, Marcus? Or are you wasting your life, trying to carry on in a dead man’s footsteps.”
“Fuck off.” Marcus heads for the bus stop.
* * *
Inexplicably, he wants to see Esca. Just to see him, touch him, Esca isn't here. He's got better things to do with his time than hold Marcus when he's having an emotional breakdown. And yet, what if he doesn't? It doesn't hurt to try, Marcus thinks. So he calls.
“Cunoval.”
“Can I see you later?” Marcus sounds desperate, even to his own ears.
“What's the matter, Marcus?”
“Nothing.”
“We both know I don't like it when you lie to me.”
Marcus closes his eyes. “It's just...I'd like to see you later. If it's okay. If it's not, then.” He's one second away from hanging up the phone. Calling Esca was a mistake.
“It's okay, Marcus. Come to my apartment in about an hour.”
“Right.” He hangs up. His hands are shaking.
He gets a cup of coffee and walks around, trying not to think until it's finally time to catch a bus to Esca's.
Esca doesn't try to make him talk about it. He tells Marcus to take a shower, and fixes him a hot drink that soothes his raw throat. After that he gets Marcus into bed and lies beside him, one arm around Marcus's torso.
Marcus falls asleep, grateful for the silence.