March 14, 2013…Baltimore, Maryland
“…and you know where that got him?”
A giggle or two escaped the crowd, but no one offered an answer. The comedic tension built to just the right point.
“Don’t forget to tip your waitress,” Brad said with a smile.
The laughter erupted from the crowd…wave upon wave as Brad first stretched his arms out to let it envelop him and then waved at the crowd.
“Thanks for coming out, guys. You’re great,” were his final words into the mic that evening. The red and orange stage lights gave his white shirt a slight pink tone under his black corduroy sport jacket with the elbow patches. He carefully placed the mic back in its stand and with one further quick wave and a wink of his blue eyes, he walked back stage.
The emcee took to the stage and waved his own hand towards the departed comedian. “Ladies and gentlemen, Bradley Riggs!”
Mindy awaited him with his cigarette already lit and a bottle of Corona already opened. “That was fabulous!” Her navy pant suit was slightly too small for her, but Brad always told her to accentuate her breasts with tighter clothes.
“Thanks, Mind. Where’s Dwyer?”
A raised brown eyebrow over her well make-upped brown eyes. Brad also had told her that a lot of makeup helped hide her flaws…but failed to tell her many thought she looked like a stripper. “He’s by the buffet. Where did you think he would be?”
Dwyer was a big man…the type that legends were made of as people would accidentally run into his stomach as it scouted ahead before he rounded corners. Brad recalled one time when Dwyer had been introduced to Eva Angelina after her boob-job at one of the shows…well, Brad assumed the pornstar was envious.
Brad sipped his beer and walked towards the green room where, no doubt, Dwyer would have a stain from something he had dripped on his shirt.
Being the groupies were yet to be let in, back stage was empty beyond crew. The floor thumped with crew running around starting to dismantle equipment and prepare for the move to Philadelphia for the show the next night. The Beatles “All You Need is Love” played from the in-house system and could be heard over the murmur of people still enjoying their drinks in the auditorium on the other side of the curtains.
Brad turned the corner and, as predicted, Dwyer was dabbing with a wet napkin at the mustard spot on his olive suit jacket lapel. “Dwyer, my man.”
Dwyer’s tiny green eyes squinted at him under a bald head full of sweat. His smile exploded his cheeks and jowls “Brad! Fantastic show.”
“Thanks. I need a favor.” He tipped back his beer bottle for the first sip of the evening. Thanks to the straight white whiskey that had filled his onstage water bottle, he was already feeling no pain, but he intended to drink away tonight’s hang over and make Saul Tigh proud.
“I’ll tell you the secret to avoid hangovers. Don’t stop drinking.” – Colonel Saul Tigh
A grimace creased Dwyer’s face and his short frame straightened up. This was why Brad paid him. “Which one?”
“Blonde, third row in the second seat. Think she was with her husband.”
“You dirty dog.”
“You fucking know it.”
“And the husband?”
Brad thought…”I’ve not had a threesome in too long…invite him as well.” He dragged on his cigarette and winked.
It seemed odd that Dwyer did not salute, but the short large man was gone in a flash.
Picking up a sandwich from the buffet, Brad shook his head. “If that man were Asian, I’d have to call him Short-Round.” He munched as the first of the groupies burst in on him.
Not many comedians reached rock star status. Robin Williams…George Carlin…Billy Connolly…to name a few…and Brad was almost there. He kept expecting Dwyer to walk in one day with a script from a major motion picture…okay, Dwyer was not really paid as a pimp, but as Brad’s agent. Brad wanted to garner that bad-boy Hollywood reputation…the guy that would wow them in the film and then fuck the leading lady on the side. To make them laugh and then lick her vertical smile while reading the script to his next romantic comedy appearance. He knew that to take that final step he had to move beyond the clubs and on to the big screen.
The room was quickly filled with short people. Blondes, brunettes and redheads…with a few men also allowed in under the delusion that Brad was happy to meet anyone.
Of course, everyone was shorter than Brad…even most basketball players as the man was seven-foot-seven. A bit of a problem as one of his fetishes was to find a woman tall enough that he could fuck while standing and that was not an easy task.
Dwyer appeared in the door frame and caught Brad’s eye. A quick shake of his bald head, Brad figured likely soaking the surrounding people in scalp sweat, but knew the meaning was that the blonde of his current wanting was not available. Her husband was probably getting blown in the car with thoughts of Brad’s jokes in their heads.
Brad shrugged and nodded. It was always a bit hit and miss on finding the one he requested and he never held Dwyer responsible when he came up empty…as he did most nights. He bit into his sandwich again and was handed a joint by some young auburn haired beauty in a Sidney Crosby jersey smiling up at him. With a smile and a toke, someone else caught his eye.
She was brunette with hair swaying at her shoulders…and taller than most, but still not tall enough. Her eyes were large and yet they seemed to hide something. A scoop-neck cream sweater showed just enough cleavage and the rest of her was out of sight beyond the dozens in the room. She stared at Brad.
He felt himself straighten up. The oddest sensation as though, for her, he needed to. It was as though all the others in the room were gone…just left was Brad and the brunette…somehow, he knew her name was Lace…and she stood leaning back against the wall with her black skirt riding up her thigh and high boots past her knee only revealing a touch of nylon in between. In one hand a flogger that she lightly slapped into the other hand…her eyes locked on him.
Brad took another toke and felt cold. She was much too far away, he felt…and he suddenly realized he was naked.
She stepped from the wall and the click of her boot heels echoed as all other sound was gone…she stepped right up to his side and pushed him to bend over before aiming the flogger…
Amazed he had accepted her direction, Brad tensed to await the pain. His penis quickly turned solid..
…then a cough over took him and the group around him laughed that he could not smoke the joint.
He handed the joint back to the young woman and looked around. His eyes found the brunette as she slipped from the room and out the door past Dwyer.
Dwyer immediately saw the look on Brad’s face and knew…he bolted out of sight in the same direction of the brunette.
The erection was real, however, and Brad was afraid to move for fear of someone seeing his tented pants.
Nothing but empty plates and beer bottles littered the room as Mindy led a stumbling Brad from it with his arm draped over her shoulders. “You really shouldn’t drink so much.”
“Who the fuck cares?”
She shrugged. “Yes, boss.”
He squeezed her breast.
Dwyer appeared at the door by the limo about to enter, but stopped when he saw them coming. “Brad, my man, I found her.”
“Found who, you swarmy bastard?”
Mindy laughed. “I think the word is smarmy.”
“Fuck you, little one.” Standing, Brad leaned his nearly unconscious body against the door frame.
Dwyer smiled. “The brunette…”
Brad’s eyes widened.
“Or should I say Lace Willows?” Dwyer held up a business card.
Brad, suddenly sober, snatched the card and read the small typeface that announced Lace Willows was an interior designer. “How did you…?” His eyes shifted to the fat man.
“Ancient Chinese secret.”
“Oh, shut the fuck up.” Brad shoved him and jumped into the limo.
Both Mindy and Dwyer filed in after him.
Pulling out his cell, Brad stared at the numbers. “Should I invite her to Philly for tomorrow’s show?”