CHAPTER TWENTY
LOCAL CELEBRITIES

 

“Popularity, power, and pussy.”

 

 

          At about 10:30 PM, I was given the duty of manning the rear-entry door. Brandon handed me a UV hand light and said, “Just stand here and make sure everyone who comes in this door has a wristband or a stamp on their hand.”

          “That’s it?” I asked.

          “Yeah,” he smiled. “I told you this job is easy. All you gotta do is post up on this railing and watch every hot girl that comes into the club. And you can drink if you want.”

          “We’re allowed to get drunk?”

          Brandon shrugged. “No, but all the bartenders get wasted and most of the bouncers do too.”

          A few yards away from where we stood, the front door was now being manned by Adam and Clyde. Clyde was a tall, broad-chested Alpha brother who served in the Marine Core before attending FSU.     

Brandon nodded towards the duo. “Clyde’s the head of security, but he’s out of here in a few weeks and my brother’s taking over.” He shook his head and added, “Fucking prick thinks he’s running the show already.”

          I watched Adam converse with two well-built black guys who had skipped the line. He shook their hands jive style and gave them wristbands without checking their IDs.

          “You’ll probably see that a lot,” Brandon said.

          “See what?”

          “My brother hooking up football players, letting them skip the line or telling the cashier girls not to charge them. Adam plays ball.”

          My eyebrows arched. “That’s impressive.”

          Brandon shrugged dismissively. “He’s a quarterback on the scout team which means he’s a glorified waterboy.”

          I chuckled. Sibling rivalry was always entertaining.

          We watched Adam duck his head inside the front door so he could sip from a Coca-Cola paper cup sitting on the counter.

          “Fucking idiot,” Brandon mumbled. “He’s mixing GHB with his liquor tonight. Says it’s the only way he can deal with hundreds of drunk people. I hope he passes out on that shit and gets fired.”

          Brandon walked back up the reentry ramp and I continued to sit on the railing and watch the line steadily grow longer. The ratio of women to men looked about even and most of the girls I saw were better than fuckable. I was liking this job more and more.

 Seth strolled down the ramp and sat next to me on the railing. We watched Adam shake his head at a customer and pocket the kid’s ID.

          “Fucking Nazi,” Seth chuckled.

          “He’s strict, huh?” I asked.

          “Yeah, dude. People I don’t even know will come up to me on campus and complain about that guy.”

          “Is taking IDs a power trip for him?”

          The bouncer shrugged. “Probably…but that shit is also easy money for him. Watch, he’ll hand the ID off to Kyle and then Kyle will find the kid inside and offer it back to him for twenty dollars.”

          I chuckled. “That’s fucked up.”

          “It’s money in his pocket. You can make good money right here too.”

          “How?”

          “People will try to slip you cash to let them in the reentry door. Don’t take anything less than a ten, and during home game weekends, alumni will offer you some serious loot to skip the line.”

          “Nice.”

          “Yeah, but don’t get crazy with it. Sometimes Russell will send his friends undercover to test out his employees.”

          “Alright. I’ll be careful.”

          I decided not to let anyone in for free my first night, but my will to enforce the rules broke down when a hot group of upperclassmen girls majestically appeared before me and came walking up the ramp. None of the young women wore wristbands or had stamps on their hands, but so enamored was I with their beauty that I just let them walk right by.

“Thanks, sweetie,” said one of the girls.

Her friend kindly grabbed my crotch as a reward and I smiled like an obedient puppy dog. The fact that these girls were confident enough to know that I would let them in for free was intoxicating. There is truly nothing sexier than a woman aware of the power of her sexuality.

          A skinny bartender with a pen behind his ear came walking down the ramp. He sat down on the railing, pulled out a cigarette, and fired up. I watched him blow rings in the air and he gave me a sly grin.

          “What’s up, man?” he said. “I’m Rob.”

          “Darren.”

          “This your first night?”

          “Yeah.”

          “You ever been here on a Saturday night?”

          “No. I came here on a rave night when I was a freshman and never came back. But I guess Saturday nights are a lot better?”

          Rob blew another ring and smiled. “Yeah, dude. Just sit back and watch the show.”

          A show indeed. As the night progressed, I was mesmerized by the myriad of attractive college students who flooded into the nightclub. Nearly everyone dressed with style, looked like they worked out, and appeared to have money or access to their parents’ platinum credit card. There were an unbelievable number of beautiful girls, many of whom looked like their hair was pressed and highlighted in an upscale South Beach hair salon that very day. They strutted around in tight skirts and revealing blouses that exposed sexy legs and surgically perfect breasts. Some of these young women wore Brittney Spears styled low-cut jeans and mid-drift tops that showed off smooth abs and belly piercings. I was stunned when a group of girls strolled up to the nightclub decked out in black latex skirts with handcuffs hanging from their belts. It was a twenty-first birthday entourage and the theme was sexy police officers. In addition to the overwhelming number of beautiful women, there were large packs of drunk and rowdy meatheads who looked like they hit the gym and the tanning bed every day that week. They wore tight polos and sleeveless dress shirts to expose their muscles. There were rich kid, pretty boy types decked out in designer jeans with designer t-shirts or untucked Abercrombie button-downs with the sleeves rolled up. There were also many young men from South Florida wearing solid color dress shirts, black dress pants, shiny black shoes, and big, flashy silver chains. It would be an exaggeration to claim that everyone who came to LNL was good-looking, popular, or dressed in expensive clothing, but the multitude of patrons who did manifest these qualities seemed to draw so much attention that those who did not were all but forgotten. The meek and mediocre were simply lost in the shadows of FSU’s elite class of the bold and beautiful. It was all a show and these were the starring actors. For a nineteen-year-old college student who had grown up on military bases and spent most of his collegiate social life going to Upsilon keg parties, I was definitely impressed with the Who’s Who World of The Scene.

          Kyle approached me a little after midnight. “I’m gonna hook you up, kid,” he said. “Go inside on floor duty for a while. I’ll cover your post.”

          “What’s floor duty?” I asked.

          He pulled out a cigarette and said, “It’s the best part of the job. Just walk around and do whatever you want, but keep your eyes open for fights and clear some cups off a few tables just in case Russell’s watching.”

          “Cool,” I said with a smile. “Thanks, man.”

          I started to walk away, but Kyle called after me. “Hold up, playa. Take these and hook up your boys or some hot little freshman girls.”

          The bouncer handed me a handful of 21 and up wristbands.

          “Nice!” I exclaimed. “Where’d you get these?”

          “I stuffed them when I was checking IDs. We also keep them down under the cash registers in a little white box. Grab some next week before Russell gets here.”

          “Alright. Thanks, man.”

          He nodded. “Go have some fun.”

          I excitedly walked up the ramp and entered the nightclub. It was packed inside and felt like a sauna. Beautiful women were everywhere and I quickly discovered that Allison was right—bouncers are constantly hit on while they are working. My first lap around the nightclub was interrupted by a slender blonde in a jean skirt.

She grabbed my arm and asked, “Where’s the bathroom?”

          I pointed behind her. “Right over there.”

          “Thanks,” she replied, not bothering to look. “So do you like have a girlfriend? My friend thinks you’re hot.”

          I grinned. “Yeah, I do. Sorry.”

          A petite brunette near the dance floor was even more direct. Her hands pawed at my chest like a playful kitten and she smiled innocently.

          “Can I touch your muscles?” she asked with a tiny baby voice.

          I smiled. “Can I touch yours?”

          She giggled and gave me a double bicep flex. “My muscles are big, aren’t they?”

          “Huge,” I replied sarcastically.

          She smacked me in the chest. “Be nice.”

          “I’m always nice.”

          “I think I’ve seen you in the gym before, but you always have your headphones on.”

          “I try to stay focused in there.”

          Her green eyes widened. “I like focused.”

          “Yeah?”

          “Yeah…but you have to be focused on the right things.”

          I smiled again. She was cute. Really cute. But I had a girlfriend I was going home to tonight, so I pulled out a wristband and placed it in her hand like a piece of candy.

          “Here,” I said. “Enjoy yourself.”

          She looked down at the wristband in surprise and asked, “How’d you know I’m underage?”

          I decided not to point out the obvious clue that she was not already wearing a wristband.

          “Call it a hunch,” I replied.

“Thanks!” she said with an excited smile. “And you better say hi to me next time I see you in the gym.”

          I nodded and walked away. My path took me outside to the deck area which had its own bar, dance floor, and DJ booth. Seth was talking to three hot blondes and his face lit up when he saw me.

          “Ladies,” he said, “let me introduce you to our newest bouncer. It’s his first night.”

          The girls eyed me with interest. I felt like fresh meat.

          “Darren,” Seth said, “This is Susan, Jody, and Huggies.”

          Susan and Jody laughed, but Huggies punched Seth in the arm.

          “Ouch!” he cried.

          “You’re an ass!” she exclaimed before turning to me and saying, “My name is Mandy.”

          I smiled at the girls. “It’s nice to meet you, ladies.”

          “So how do you like your first night?” Jody asked.

          Seth jumped in front of the girls. “Wait wait! I didn’t introduce him to you so you could hit on him. I introduced you to him so he’d know who to stay away from.”

          Susan rolled her eyes. “You’re so rude, Seth.”

          “Don’t cockblock,” Jody laughed.

          Seth chuckled and dragged me away. He was wasted.

          “I’m only half-kidding,” the bouncer said. “Susan’s cool and Jody is an amazing fuck, but stay away from Huggies.”

          “What’s up with the nickname?”

          “She wets the bed. You gotta make that bitch wear a diaper when you’re done fucking her.”

          I laughed. “You serious?”

          “Completely,” he replied with a grin. “So what do you think about working here, dude?”

          “Honestly, I feel like I’m getting sweated hard.”

          “You are. It’s that work shirt you’re wearing. College girls love guys that work at nightclubs.”

A pair of Latinas walked by us and stared.

I smiled and said, “I think I’m starting to understand that.”

“Welcome to my life, kid. You’re on the fast track to becoming a local celebrity. This place will bring it all—popularity, power, and pussy.”

          “I like the way that sounds. It’s all about status, huh?”

          Seth shrugged. “Mostly, but you’re also a lot easier for girls to approach now because they can ask you stupid shit for icebreakers like what time does the dance music come on or where’s the bathroom?”

          My lips twisted into a smile. Seth was definitely wise in the ways of club life.

I did another lap around the building and saw my new manager Russell standing near the entryway. He was a clean-cut, short and stocky Italian in his forties.

          “What’s going on, Russell?” I greeted him.

           “Do you know what you’re doing in here?” he asked me without bothering to look at me.

          “Cleaning tables and watching for fights.”

          “Don’t walk around here so militant,” he said sternly. “Smile and look like you’re enjoying yourself.”

          “Okay.”

          “And don’t fight. This isn’t CPA. We don’t beat up our own customers.”

          A few trashy-looking girls approached Russell and he greeted them with his slick nightclub manager smile.

“Hello, girls,” he said, “are we having any fun tonight?”

          Fully aware that I had just been brushed off, I wandered back into the main room and tried my best to smile more. It wasn’t hard to do.

          I cleaned off a few tables and took another lap around the crowded nightclub. It was shoulder to shoulder now and you had to swim with the crowd to make progress. I was passing by the women’s bathroom when a brunette appeared from the crowds and grasped my arm tightly. She had a desperate look in her eyes.

          “There’s a fight over there!” she exclaimed and pointed to a corridor that separated the main dance floor and the main bar area.

          I shoved my way through the crowds and emerged upon the scene of a fight that was already over. A very tall, athletically-built white male stood over a semi-conscious fat guy slumped on the floor with blood trickling down his lip. The tall guy leaned over his semi-conscious victim and started pointing in his face.

          “You see! You see!” he screamed in anger. “That’s what you get for talking shit!”

          I was completely unprepared for this situation because no one had told me what was within my legal rights to do as a bouncer. So, like an amateur, I placed my hand on his back and tried to calm him down.

          “Come on, man,” I urged in a neutral tone of voice. “You knocked him out. Now you have to leave.” 

          “You see!” the tall guy continued to yell. “That’s what you get! That’s what you fucking get!”

          Suddenly, the bouncer Adam and an extremely large bartender named Rico materialized out of nowhere. They grabbed the assailant by his arms and dress shirt and yanked him away from his fallen foe.

          “Get the fuck off me!” screamed the young man as he struggled. “I’ll fucking kill you!”

          “Kill me then!” Rico snarled and swiftly struck the young man in the chest with a brutal elbow shot.

           The tall figure grunted and doubled over in pain.

          Adam and Rico half-dragged, half-carried the assailant towards the back door. Rico powerfully kicked the door open and Adam launched the tall guy down the small staircase, sending him tumbling to the hard cement ground of the parking lot. The bouncer laughed as he walked back inside and yanked the one-way door shut behind him.         

“He hit the cement hard,” Adam declared proudly. “I don’t think he’s moving.”

“Fuck him,” Rico said coldly. “He’s lucky I didn’t put my elbow through his mouth for talking shit to me.”

          “I know that guy. He plays basketball for FSU.”

          “He ain’t playing shit right now.”

          The two young men laughed and walked off without even acknowledging my presence. It was an excellent display of professional bouncing that left me feeling like a bitch. My cherry had just been popped in a performance that left much to be desired. But I was a quick learner.

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