Hell Fires (Age-Gap Romance)

“She on your payroll or ours?” We had to keep the numbers accounted for at Tight Ends. Everybody in this biz was a crook or a hustler. If you let anything start to slide, just like Reese fingering titties, the whole organization would come crashing down in a steaming pile of garbage.

“Mav, Mandy hired her. Calm the fuck down. She’s making like busboy wages and still on probation until tomorrow.”

I wasn’t too keen on exploitation on any level. Didn’t like the idea of a girl leaving this place alone after closing either. The DJ was usually last out along with the bar backs and cleaners.

I stumped out my cig in the ashtray. “She know not to post to social media? Did she sign an NDA?” I asked him.

After Stevie, Luther Vandross came pouring out of the speakers.

“You’re uptight as hell, Mav. She’s just a kid. I told you she was still on probation, didn’t sign shit yet. Go fire her if you want to. The next candidate I’ll run by you if it’d make you feel better.” He pointed up to the balcony, and as I turned my head to stare in that direction, I saw a pixie looking girl with fire engine red hair dart in and out of my line of vision.

"How the fuck old is she, Tommy? Thirteen?"

“She’s fucking petite, Mav. What the hell do you want from me? You know I don’t deal with underage girls in here. Go ahead and fire her, I can tell you really want to.”

"Whoa, hold on a second here. This right here is more interest Mav has shown in a girl since, since I don’t know the hell when!" Tex kidded.

“I like music, what can I say,” I told them dryly. I slammed back another two fingers of whiskey Tommy had placed in front of me. I pushed away from the bar and bee-lined for the DJ booth. It had been a while since I’d climbed to the second floor of this club. I didn’t remember when it was, but it didn’t have anything to do with music or girls.

The booth was sound proofed so it was actually quieter inside than the rest of the joint. The door wasn’t locked, usually the DJs kept it bolted so I knocked lightly like a gentleman, after all, this was a gentleman’s club. When she didn’t turn around, I stepped inside unwelcome.

Chapter 2

SOPHIE

I liked working at the strip joint. The pay was great, the girls were nice, and no one messed with me—a perfect combination. Tommy was a good boss and Mandy made sure that I got paid in cash on time and nobody here treated me like an invalid. I took my records and started packing up my crate. Some DJs had fancy equipment, but I had a badass makeshift milk crate dolly with wheels that my friend Brody had hooked me up with. Brody owned the local record store in town and knew what a collector I was. He’d put rare stuff aside when it came in, and make sure to show it to me before anyone else. He was crafty and he’d helped design my pull crate. It fit fifty records a gig and it worked just fine. The system at Tight Ends wasn’t mine—I’d never even worked with one so high tech before. That was maybe the best part about the place; it had all this really cool equipment already set up, so all I needed to lug was my vinyl and my vibe for the night. I knew what kind of music people liked to grind to and that’s what I catered to—the grind. There was a lot of nudity going on down below, but thanks to my limited vision, I couldn’t really see any of it.

“I know you’re standing there,” I said to the darkness in front of me.

Nobody comes up to the booth uninvited; it’s like the unspoken rules of the DJ bible. There weren’t any technical problems and no one had ever complained about my music before tonight. Maybe he thought he was sneaking, but my senses were heightened due to my loss of sight, so he needed to do a better job if he thought he could surprise me.

I switched out the record and put on D’Angelo. I loved his slow jams and they were perfect for the atmosphere. I spun the Vandross on my finger before I slipped it back inside the cover. I put colored tabs on all of my records to catalogue them, bright tabs that I could see in the dark.

“I like your style. It’s different; the old guys just used to flood this place with top forty pop and dance music—yours is more—I’m not sure, but it’s much better.”

“More bump and grind? Gets you in the mood?” I said. I wasn’t asking him if my tunes were putting him in the mood, but rather if he thought I was good at my craft.