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Author's Chapter Notes:

Checking back in on Tristan... Enjoy! TAG



Chapter 14 - Big Business.



Tristan was almost getting used to the annoying red-headed waitress glomming on him every time he was dragged into the Diner. Didn’t these losers ever eat anywhere else? Not that he would turn his nose up to a free meal, no matter where it was served, but three meals out of four at the same damned greasy spoon was a little much even for him. 


As soon as he was able to pry the woman - Debbie - off him, though, he took up a spot in the same booth Brunet Guy always seemed to sit at and picked up his menu to use as a shield. Red & Brunet Guy chattered about crap he didn’t know or care about for a good ten minutes before the waitress was pulled away by some other diners. Which was when the full inquisition started.


“So, how was work today?” Brunet Guy asked, looking at him with his eyes all squinty and a frown on his face. The intensity of the look told Tristan that somebody from Kinnetik must have snitched to Brunet Guy about him, a hypothesis which was confirmed a moment later when he continued, “Ted said you seemed a little off or something? And Brian texted to bitch me out about keeping you up late last night, saying you were too tired to work. So what gives? You aren’t coming down with something are you? Cuz I can’t get sick right now; we’re in the middle of our big quarterly promotion at work and I can’t afford to take any time off.”


“Jeeze, you need to chill, bro,” Tristan couldn’t help complaining. “Brian asked the same thing - about a dozen times - and I told him I was fine. Can’t a guy just have an off day once in a while?”


Brunet Guy didn’t respond except for his frown getting a little more pronounced. Luckily, that’s when Red came back to get their order, providing a welcomed distraction. Just as she was finishing up, the bell over the entrance rang and in came the other two musketeers - Swishy & Desperation - making the set complete. Tristan had to stifle the groan he wanted to voice so badly right then. Why did losers always have to travel in packs?


Obviously, so they could more easily gang up on him.


“Oh, Baby, there you are,” Swishy fawned all over him, sliding into the seat right next to Tristan and immediately immersing him in a long-armed hug. “Teddy was telling me you weren’t acting like yourself today. I hope you haven’t caught the flu bug that’s been going around. I hear it’s a bear, and not in a fun, furry, pound your ass while wearing leather kind of way, either.” 


That got a sycophantic round of laughs from the rest of the table but only an eye-roll from Tristan. “I’m FINE! Shit. I was a tiny bit tired this morning, so I take a nap at work for, like, an hour, and everybody has to jump down my throat about it? Will you all just lay off already!”


That got them all to shut up, but not in a good way. They were giving him, and each other, those looks that Tristan took to mean he’d screwed up again. Shit. This con was proving harder to manage than he’d expected. The guy he was trying to impersonate was such a fucking wet sack; this Justin kid was way too cool for school. Seriously, it should be impossible for any normal human to act that fucking goody-goody all the damn time, right? 


I mean, Tristan considered himself a pretty good actor, normally, but this job was pushing his limits. He kept forgetting how simp his alter-ego was. All the lovey-dovey shit with his boyfriend and the fake, too-sweet attitude towards everybody else? It was sus as hell. Plus, because of the whole ‘innocent act’ thing, Tristan was working without his best distraction technique - his willing and able ass - which had always been the way he’d shut up his marks before. Now, if he could only tempt one of the three losers currently ogling him into bed, he could at least shut them up for long enough to let him escape with the loot he planned to fence. 


It seemed like his little outburst had at least shut the three amigos up for a bit. They mostly ignored him for the rest of dinner. Which was fine with Tristan; he was happy to dig into his cheeseburger and fries without the commentary, while the losers babbled about which superhero they’d want to date. Fucking morons. 


After they’d stuffed their faces sufficiently, Mr. Swishy demanded that they all head over to Woody’s for drinks. Now they were getting somewhere. Tristan would kill for a fucking beer. Anything to make the pain of hanging out with these three more bearable. So, from his corner of the booth, he tried to enthusiastically endorse the plan, while still staying in character.


“My Brian took me to Woody’s just last week,” Tristan declared - he knew this because he’d been following them and had spied on the couple from across the bar - trying to channel his double’s overly-bubbly attitude. “I ordered a blue drink and Brian laughed at me. I think it was called a ‘Blue Lagoon’.”


“Well, Baby,” Swishy slid off the bench seat and stood up, grabbing Tristan’s hand to pull him along, “we won’t laugh. You can have all the blue drinks you like. Right boys?”


“Whatever toots your horn, Justin,” Mr. Desperation agreed, also getting to his feet. 


Which left only Brunet Guy, who was still looking at Tristan suspiciously. “I suppose. As long as you don’t get shit-faced and throw up on the sofa-bed tonight.” He looked at his tall, swishy friend and shrugged. “Don’t you remember how Brian told us the kid was a total lightweight? Besides, Brian will be pissed at us if we corrupt his pet artist.”


“Nonsense, Michael. One Blue Lagoon won’t corrupt the boy,” Emmett insisted. “Besides, what Brian doesn’t know won't hurt him . . . Or us . . . Right?” Mr. Swishy winked at Tristan, tucking the youth’s hand tightly under his elbow, and promptly leading him out of the Diner and down the block to the familiar drinking establishment. 


For the most part, Tristan was able to fly under the radar after that. Woody’s was crowded and noisy, which meant he didn’t have to make conversation. Mr. Swishy was happy to indulge his ‘Baby’ with all the frou-frou drinks Tristan wanted; buying him a whole rainbow of drink colors beyond the initial Blue Lagoon. He paid the swishy one back with a little light flirting, which seemed to be all the big fairy expected. The only sour notes for the evening were the increasingly disapproving looks coming Tristan’s way from Brunet Guy. Who knew what the loser's problem was this time? Mostly, Tristan just ignored him and sipped his free drinks. 


Around ten, Emmett, who was a little tipsy after knocking back his second Pink Lady, announced it was time to head over to Babylon. Tristan was not at all opposed to that idea. Undoubtedly, there would be more free drinks involved and he liked to dance as much as anyone, especially when the cover charge was on somebody else’s dime. Mr. Desperation picked up the tab at Woody’s and then they all traipsed over to the nightclub, which was conveniently just around the corner.


Unfortunately, they’d no sooner got through the front doors of the club - the line moving quickly that early in the evening - when Tristan realized this had been a mistake. No less than three of Hugo’s boys were standing directly in front of the main bar, right in line with the spot Tristan‘s keepers were heading for. If the tipsy swish-stick didn’t have such a tight grip on his hand, Tristan could’ve hung back, melted into the crowd, waited for a good time to make explanations to his friends, and hopefully shoo them off before they crashed his con. Not that Tristan‘s luck had ever been that good. Hunter saw him right away, of course, and waved. 


“There you are!” Hunter shouted loudly enough that everyone around could hear him despite the thumpa thumpa club music in the background. “Hugo’s on the fucking warpath looking for you, Stan. As if the shit you pulled last night wasn’t bad enough, you skip out and don’t bring in your take today either? What is up with you lately, dude?”


“Excuse me? Do we know you?” Mr. Desperation questioned while Swishy pulled Tristan in closer to his side as if to shelter him from these rude interlopers.


“A hundred bucks and you can know me - in the biblical sense - Mister,” Hunter trilled, his voice changing to a flirty low tenor as he turned his attention towards fishing for a potential John. “Or, fifty, if you’re only looking for me to develop a passing acquaintance with your dick.”


Ted sputtered and blushed so deeply that you could see his cheeks going red even under the blue glow of the club lights. “I-I-I think I’ll pass, but . . . Thanks anyway . . .”


“Too bad, lover boy. In case you change your mind, though, I’ll be around,” Hunter cooed, batting his extra-long eyelashes in Mr. Desperation’s direction and emphasizing his point with a little goose to Ted’s rear end. Then his gaze swept over the rest of the group and he added, “any other takers? I promise you won’t be disappointed.”


“Nobody here is that desperate,” Brunet Guy answered rudely, pushing past Hunter to get to the bar. 


Desperation and Swishy followed their friend, ignoring the gaggle of rent boys, although without the same amount of overt contempt. Tristan let himself be dragged along at Swishy’s side. He gave Hunter a small shake of his head as he passed, hoping the other boy would get the message and not say anything more. It must have worked, too, because Hunter just continued to stare after the group, a confused look on his face, without another word.


Brunet Guy didn’t comment further until after they’d ordered their first round of drinks. “So, how do you know those guys?” he asked Tristan as he took the first swig of his beer. 


“Who?” Tristan played dumb and concentrated on the lime green drink that Swishy had insisted he try next. 


Michael pointed with the neck of his beer to where Hunter and the others were still fishing for tricks a few feet down the bar. “The kid who propositioned Ted and his skanky buddies.” Tristan shrugged, feigning ignorance. “Well, he sure acted like he knew you.”


“I suppose I just have one of those faces,” Tristan offered, giving Michael his biggest, most innocent, grin.


“Oh, Baby, no. Nobody looks like you,” Swishy insisted tipsily. “That hair - it’s like a halo - and those gorgeous blue eyes. Not to mention that perfect bubble butt . . . Just divine.” The big pouf sighed dreamily.


Tristan was hard pressed not to break out laughing at the guy. What a creeper! Was he really lusting after his friend’s boyfriend’s ass? Wonder what Brian thought of that? And had he really just used the word ‘Divine’. Nobody was that gay, right? 


Just then, though, Tristan had bigger problems than the Loser Trio and their unrequited love interests. It seemed that nothing about this con was going to be easy; because, right at that moment, down at the other end of the bar, the very last person Tristan wanted to see - outside of Kinney or his bratty double, Justin - had made an unscheduled appearance. 


It was Hugo. And Daddy didn’t look like he was in a good mood, either. But, of course, because his life sucked, Hugo had already caught a glimpse of Tristan before the boy could hide behind his Swishy companion. There was no way Tristan could ignore that imperious gesture summoning him to Hugo’s side either. Con or no-con, you didn’t disregard a direct order from Hugo and live long to tell about it. Tristan downed the rest of his sickly sweet lime green drink to get what fortification the alcohol would offer and then made his escape.


“Pardon me, guys,” Tristan made an excuse and started to back away. “Just need to visit the little boys’ room. Be right back.”


For about a half a second, it looked like Swishy was going to offer to join him, but Tristan managed to dodge around an arriving group of big bears fast enough to lose him. Then he casually walked past Hugo, jerking his head meaningfully towards a darker corner as he passed, hoping that his Daddy would get the message and follow without causing a scene. And finally something went right with his day. Hugo waited a few seconds and then trailed after his boy till they’d walked around the corner, pausing in the hallway that led to the bathrooms, out of the direct line of sight of the Three Amigos at the bar.


“Where the fuck have you been?” Hugo growled before Tristan had even managed to say hello. “You better have a damn good excuse for the way you been acting lately, Stan. I’m not putting up with this kinda crap a second longer. You hear me? I’m fed up with this shit. And you know what happens when I get fed up, right?” Hugo’s hand darted up to circle Tristan’s neck with a squeeze, choking off the boy’s air supply with a vice-like grip and lifting the slightly built youth up so that he could barely reach the floor with the tips of his toes. “You owe me for all the crap you’ve been pulling, boy. You better have double your usual quota in hand when you show up tonight or I’m going to take the rest out on your ass. And I’ll put you on the skank rotation for the rest of the week too. You hear me?”


Tristan couldn’t get enough breath to answer verbally, but he managed to nod, which seemed to satisfy Hugo. The big lug loosened his grip - which allowed Tristan to slither back down the wall behind him till he was once again standing firmly on his own feet - and stepped back a foot or so while still glaring down at the much shorter blond. Tristan was too busy breathing again to worry about Hugo’s ‘skank rotation’ threat - Hugo’s favorite form of punishment - although there was no way he wanted to be the one to service the twenty-buck-a-fuck junckies and other losers that Hugo would offer a discount to for the pleasure of teaching his errant boys a lesson. Fuck that. Of course, that only increased the pressure on him to maximize his current con. But Tristan was sure that, once he showed up with the loot he’d scrounged from Kinney’s loft, Hugo would forgive him. And in the meantime, he would keep his eyes open and see if there weren’t some way he could sweeten his take even more; there had to be a way to pry a bit more cash out Kinney’s friends, right? They weren’t exactly rocket scientists. Tristan just had to work them right . . .


“Now, get back to work already and don’t disappoint me again,” Hugo growled, stomping off without even letting Tristan make an effort to explain . . . Not really a good sign, but Tristan would take the reprieve and run with it.


“Shit!” Tristan watched Hugo’s back disappear amid the crowd and rubbed at the spot on his throat that was now sore and chaffed. “Fucking Hugo . . .” Then he headed back towards the bar where he’d left his marks. “Like the man said, time to get back to work.”


He wasn’t sure if it was a good sign or a bad sign when he found only Brunet Guy in the spot where he’d left the others by the bar. Craning his neck over the crowd, Tristan could see Swishy and Desperation out on the dance floor. Damn, that Swishy looked even gayer when he was dancing, if that were possible. The one hand waving in the air over his head thing was too fruity for words. It also meant that Tristan was left with only Brunet Guy as company; something which was bound to cramp his newly reinforced plans to try and pump a little more swag out of this con before he returned to Hugo. No matter. Tristan could work this, even with Brunet Guy. He’d just have to, maybe, take a different approach. 


Assuming his best ‘Innocent Twink’ act, Tristan bounced up to Brunet Guy’s side and grabbed hold of the grumpy brunet’s arm. “Hi! I’m back!” he announced and deftly stole the beer bottle out of Michael’s hand. “Did ya miss me?” 


Brunet Guy just shook his head and rolled his eyes as if Tristan were annoying the hell out of him. But Tristan knew better. If Michael had really wanted to get rid of him, he could have easily shrugged him off. Instead, he let the younger man glom all over him. Yeah, Tristan could work this, he decided, as he tilted the beer back and took a healthy swing


“I didn’t think you liked beer?” Michael commented, taking back his almost empty bottle. “Last time we were here, you said it tasted like wet moldy bread.”


“Oh, um . . .” Tristan thought fast and covered his latest faux pas with a lame, “Brian has been teaching me to like it better.” Brunet Guy seemed to buy the lie at least, and that opened up a new opportunity for the kid on the make. “But I’d rather have another of those fruity ones like we were drinking earlier. Maybe a pink ones this time?” 


“Haven’t you had enough to drink already? I don’t want you getting sick on my sofa bed tonight,” Brunet Guy complained. 


Seriously, did this guy always whine this much? If so, why did he still have so many friends? Tristan would not miss this one after he was done with the job. Not that he’d let on how much the brunet irritated him, though, because it was all part of the game, right?


“Please? Just one more. So I can say I drank one of every color of the rainbow?” Saying the sappy words made Tristan almost want to vomit, but he knew laying it on thick was the only way to wear down this particular mark. “Pretty please?”


Michael grumbled under his breath but nevertheless pulled out his wallet. Tristan reacted quickly, reaching down to pull out several bills together and crumpling them up in his fist so fast that, hopefully, the loser wouldn’t notice that he’d taken more than the $20 he’d meant to give him. To further cover his tracks, Tristan leaned in and kissed Michael dead on the lips, shocking Mr. Brunet Guy so much he didn’t have time to say anything or even, really, think about it. 


“I’ll get you a new beer too. Be right back!” Tristan trilled when he finally let Michael come up for air a minute later, and immediately skipped away, heading towards a spot on the bar a little further down from where Brunet Guy was standing. 


The wily conman pocketed all $60 and then sidled up to the bar as close as he could get to the line of thirsty patrons waiting for their own drinks. It was getting pretty packed in the club by that point, so the bartenders were busy. Tristan waited, watching carefully, until the tall, muscle queen standing next to him ordered three beers and a scotch on the rocks. The bartender popped open the tops on the beers and set them on the bar before turning around to grab the bottle of Jamesons and a clean rocks glass. Luckily for Tristan, Muscles had turned around to talk with his friends right then and wasn’t watching, so Tristan simply helped himself to two of the beers and then slid away through the crowd without anyone being the wiser to his petty thievery. Now he had all sixty bucks and a free beer to boot. Not bad, if he did say so himself, right? He rapidly chugged one of the beers, set the empty aside, and then trotted back to Brunet Guy with the second beer.


“Here!” he offered up his bounty with his best Justin smile. 


Michael looked at the label and frowned a little. “This isn’t the brand I usually drink,” he groused, but still took a sip, before looking back at the boy. “Where’s your drink? And where’s my change?”


“Oh, sorry,” Tristan tried to look contrite. “I guess I forgot to wait for the change. I was too busy drinking my pink drink. It was so yummy I drank it all up right away!”


“Stupid twink . . .” Michael complained while shaking his head at the youth. “Brian’s gonna owe me so much for having to babysit your ass after this weekend . . . Good thing he took charge of all the rest of your money for you or, at this rate, you’d end up completely broke in no time.”


Tristan was already tuning out the complaining though. He thought he’d glimpsed Mr. Desperation coming back through the crowd and saw it as an opportunity to pull the same maneuver on him that he’d just worked on Brunet Guy. And, after talking with Hugo, he knew that any cash he could add to his take would help smooth things over in that department. The only question was how drunk he’d have to get these three, and how hard he’d have to flirt with them, in order to completely clean the lot of them out before the end of the night . . .

 

Chapter End Notes:

2/25/21 - Hi! I'm back! Sorry this chapter took so long. I don't know why I was struggling with it so much; I think it's because I don't really like Tristan that much. (I promise he's not really that bad, he's just had a hard life, you know?) But this chapter is going to be important for the plot so . . . At least it's done and I can now move on to writing more Justin fun! Happy reading! TAG 

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