The Femboy Escort Agency Ch. 01

"What can I say. It's an acquired taste but it pays."

Marcus opened the box. Inside was stacks of cash, and rolls of notes on top. He pulled out six of the wads, and placed them on the table. Jimmy watched hungrily as each wad piled onto the other. When he was done, Marcus closed the box, and slid the wads over the desk. Jimmy took them, and slid them straight into his breast pocket.

"Ain't even gonna count it?"

"It's five--I know the weight. You always pay straight."

"I could be lying. Might be less there," said Marcus.

Jimmy's pupils shrunk to pin-pricks, the smile fading from his face as they looked at each other.

"I'm kiddin', Jimmy."

"I know," he said, "it ain't that. I'm a little edgy."

"Worried somebody caught you steppin' into the femboy paradise?"

"Get the fuck outta here," said Jimmy. "No, it's serious stuff. Didn't wanna bring it up to you until I knew myself but there's been discussions and the like."

"Oh yeah? What about?"

"Scarcelli's got some legal trouble and everybody's kickin' up double. Or they're gonna start to."

"Shit," said Marcus as he placed the tin box back in the drawer. "Scarcelli wants ten points?"

"Not yet but I'm just giving you a heads up. Better to be prepared just in case."

Marcus sighed.

"It ain't like you ain't got the cash flow."

"I have lawyer fees, the boys need paying too, a secretary--the bar. Bills. I'm just about breaking even and I got a top earner sick with the flu."

"So make him work anyway. Bobby D's got his girls working the strip even if they're sick. There's always some crazy fuck who's into it."

"It don't work like that here, Jimmy."

"You run whores."

"I run respectable whores for work, not runnin' them into the fuckin' ground. This place works with balance."

"It ain't concrete yet so don't lose your head. It all goes through me anyway. Long as you keep earning like this we're square."

Marcus bit the inside of his cheek and stared out at the electrical lines, imagining strangling Jimmy to death and hanging from them was not a foreign thought. He let another sigh escape him. "Alright. You want a drink at the bar?"

"I gotta head off. Gotta be back in Vegas and still need to go see Mickey. He's opened up a betting shop here too," said Jimmy. "On the north side."

"No shit?"

"Baby Vegas is good for the gamblers, what can I say?"

Marcus walked with him out of the office and down the stairs. He stopped suddenly, turned back, and looked up. "Oh, is that Azalea here?"

Marcus raised an eyebrow.

"Jus' wanted to say hi is all."

Marcus stared at him. "That right?"

"What do you think I am? I'm no frocia."

Marcus shrugged as he watched Jimmy adjust his jacket and crack his neck. The silence between them was as thick as fog, until he saw the sly smile. "That little fuck can suck a dick better than any of Bobby D's girls. So, I heard." He shrugged.

"Ah," said Marcus. "Of course."

"Forget about it--I'll be back on the sixth, all good?"

"I got you," he said. "I'll see if Azalea's free then."

"Sei una meraviglia," said Jimmy as he patted him on the back, flashing his row of veneers.

Marcus walked him out of the front doors, and gave him a wave off as he got into his black BMW. He watched as it skirted off down the main stretch. When he was out of sight, he let the mask slip, and turned the wave into a single finger; fuck you. He heard Connor grunt, the closest thing he had to a laugh.

"Asshole," he said in his husky voice.

"Took the words out my mouth," said Marcus as he patted him on the back and stepped back inside.

He needed a drink, trying to not worry himself too much about what Jimmy might bring in the word of bad news. Sarah didn't question him when he poured himself a double bourbon. She'd seen him pour many whenever he was worried, and she let him ruminate alone at the end of the bar, lost in deep thought.