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But today, all I see are the bags under my eyes and the fact that I don’t look twenty-five anymore. I’m starting to look like Domani and Brunello, my older twin brothers who have never looked youthful. They’re forty years old. I’m a decade younger, but today, I can’t tell the difference between us.
This is supposed to be fun, but even sex is more practical than enjoyable.
And right now, it’s neither of those things.
I slow down but Crystal’s verbal encouragement doesn’t. “Don’t stop! I’m so close!”
I chuckle at her A+ effort as I pull out and give her a little pat on her glittered ass. “Thanks, Crystal.”
She turns around and fishes for her afterwork sweats and comfortable underwear. She frowns at me, tilting her head to the side. “You okay, kiddo?”
I throw away my wasted condom while giving her the stink eye. “Not when you call me kiddo.”
“Sorry.” She hikes up herHello Kittysweatpants and dons a serious tone. “You okay, Mister Moretti?”
I mime laughing. No one calls me that. That name is reserved for Brunello, who has well-earned the head of the household respect.
I don’t answer Crystal’s question because it doesn’t matter. It never matters if I’m okay because I do my job either way.
I pull out a wad of cash and leave it on her vanity. “Thanks for trying. I’ve got to get out of here. I’m locking up tonight, so grab your stuff and let’s go.”
There’s nothing spookier than a strip club at four in the morning. It looks like a filthy ghost town with no music, no women on the stage, no illicit deals being made under halos of smoke and cover of shadow. The stage looks sad and hollow, and the crimson-lined chairs match the sentiment.
I wait for Crystal to leave out the front door and then lock up, wishing I could escape a portion of the tension in my body before heading out to the next job.
But wishes have never done me much good, so I head to my black sedan with tinted windows, shutting myself inside while texting my team where to meet me in twenty minutes.
Ready or not, here we go.
