Music - The Way You Make Me Feel by Michael Jackson

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Tony

I stood up straight and stretched my arms after wiping the last dirty table in the diner. It didn't have a lot of customers today so I wasn't really exhausted. There had only been about five families that ate but its low number of customers every day seemed like a good sign that its closure was inevitable . Mrs. Ramos, the owner, would be retiring in the next couple of months and she would be flying back to her home country next year.

I sat on one of the chairs and winced in pain after putting a little pressure on my ass. I was still sore after getting fucked by a client last night. He was a mall owner so while I didn't enjoy his enormous dick, I knew I'd be getting a lot of money, and I did get more than the amount he promised. Half a grand was enough for a month's worth of rent, though it wasn't enough to cover the electricity and water bills.

I overestimated my abilities and the guy was seriously hung. A nine-inch cock didn't feel good and as much I wanted to enjoy it, - since he was actually a pretty handsome blonde man after all - I didn't. It felt like an eternity of pure torture. How I managed to not cry and fake love it, I had no idea.

I took my vest off as I made my way to the personnel's quarter to change. As much as I wanted to go home and rest, I still had a casting call to go to.

As I was unbuttoning my uniform, Jack, my coworker, went in to get his things in his locker. He had just finished his shift for today as well. "Let me guess, another casting call?" He asked.

I smiled and nodded. The guys at the diner knew I had been trying to become an actor ever since they met me . While it was my passion since I was a little kid, I also knew I didn't have to go looking around for unstable jobs and sell my body for money at night if I became a star. "Second one this week," I said.

The moment I dropped out of high school, I started going to different castings may it be for modeling or acting. I had been trying out for five years and honestly, I only booked about five or six and all those were for designers trying to make it big in the fashion industry. The only role I got that was closest to acting was a butt double.

Apparently, my ass was similar to Leonardo DiCaprio's. One could say it was a compliment, but it sure wasn't enough to put on my portfolio.

"Well good luck, man," Jack said as he pulled his bag from his locker. "Hope you get it this time."

"Thanks, man."

I slid on a plain black shirt and a pair of faded jeans, picked my bag and prepared myself to leave. "I'm gonna go," I called it a day at the diner and left.

As soon as I arrived at the studio, the line was unbelievably long. It was longer than all the castings I'd been to. It was probably because I was auditioning for an upcoming TV series by a huge station. When I went in to get a number, one of the staff gave me a sticker. I was 156th on the line and they were still at 54th. I took a deep breath and braced myself for a long day.

As I walked towards the end of the line, I pulled from my pocket the flyer of the casting call that I found at a waiting shed just a week ago and stared at it. The working title of the show was Inside the Outsiders. They didn't include what the story's premise was but looking at the design of the flyer, its blue, black, and white hues reminded me of a Buffy the Vampire Slayer poster.

I leaned my back against the wall as the sun shined on me. I rolled my eyes in annoyance as the first drop of sweat cascade down my face. By the time I'd face the panel, I'd look like shit. I slid down and sat on the ground as I shifted my backpack on my front and lifted it up to cover my face against the sun.

•••

After about two hours of waiting, I stood on my spot and fixed my hair. I unwrinkled my shirt and dusted off my pants as I prepared for my turn. The 155th auditionee had been inside the room for awhile now and she'd be done anytie soon.

One of the staff went out the door and finally announced my number. I sent her a smile  and nodded when she told me to get in. I wasn't new to the venue anymore. Most castings place in the studio so I'd been in it for more than fifty times already. Fun fact, it was the same venue where I auditioned as Leo's butt double.

When I entered the room, there was a long table filled with paper and empty cans of soda. "Hey, guys." I pulled off a smile as I walked in fake confidence towards the middle of the mini stage, acknowledging the presence of the panelists. There were seven people, the five panelists, the staff by the door, and a cameraman. My entrance, I believe, was rather smooth but I knew my audition was going to be awkward the moment I laid my eyes on one of the panelists. Apparently, one of the clients I have had sex with last week was one of the show's producers.

He was one of my generous customers and one of the few who was talented in bed. He made me cum thrice in just one night.

He didn't look like he remembered me though. The guy could be pretending to not know me or he really was just after my hole that Monday night  in his five-star suite. I stood in my spot, still keeping the smile on my face, as I anticipated for one of them to talk.

"Okay, so your name's Anthony Summer," Catherine, read through my resume. She took a deep breath and smiled as she told me, "Well, before anything else, why don't you tell us something about yourself first, darling."

I quietly cleared my throat. "I'm Anthony Summer. I'm twenty years old and I work as a waiter downtown." I introduced myself and they all nodded.

"Okay, we'll do this quick, Tony." Angelo, the producer, and my former fucker, finally spoke, his deep voice reminded me of how many times he moaned my name. I bit my lip and tried my hardest not to recall what he did to me that night. An unnecessary boner wouldn't help me do good in this audition.

'This is not the right time to be fuckin' thirsty, Tony!'

I realized he lied about his name as he told me his name was John. I figured he did that to avoid rumors from spreading. Angelo continued speaking, "First, you need to sing at least one chorus of a song, any song, then after that, dance, again, any kind of dance. Once you're done, get this script right here and act out Adam's lines."

I nodded and took a deep breath as I faced the camera. I wasn't the best singer in the world but I knew how to leak a right note. Taking one last glance at Angelo, I began snapping my fingers and thought of a song to sing. My dad used to listen to a lot of Michael Jackson songs and I remembered him singing along to The Way You Make Me Feel. I counted to three in my head with the beat of my snapping fingers and started singing the song - as well as unconsciously lipping the backup vocals' parts. Of course, I had to lower the key since Michael was selfish enough to sing a song that was almost impossible for a guy to sing.

As soon as I finished singing, I paused for a good ten seconds as I thought of a dance. I hated dancing as much as dancing hated me. My body coordination wasn't the best and the only dance I knew I was good at was grinding my butt on some horny client's lap.'Like Angelo!'. Not wanting the awkward silence last for too long, I kept my smiling face while I began dancing the steps to Macarena. It was the only dance I could think of since it was the most recent one I saw on TV at the diner. I danced in silence as I imagined the song playing in my head. I knew I looked stupid for twenty seconds but I had to pretend that I liked what I was doing.

I walked near the table to pick the script and searched for Adam's lines. "Now, Tony, this scene is when Adam Hopkins receives a call from his boss telling him he is fired. Adam is a stripper." Marina, the screenwriter of the series, explained. She then instructed, "So what we want to see is a guy who was caught off guard and upset, but he puts this sort of a tough guy mask on just so he doesn't appear weak. I'm gonna read Stacy's line, okay?"

"Okay, got it." I told them and looked at the script.

Once again, I counted to three before doing push-ups on the floor, counting numbers out loud. In my head, I imagined the scene to start where Adam was just casually working out in his living room before his boss called him. It took me five push-ups before pretending to hear a loud ringing of a telephone. Ideally, it was beside me. I got up, with the script in hand and stared at the invisible phone for a few seconds and pretended to pick it up. I put the non-existent gadget against my ear and said, "Adam Hopkins speaking."

"Adam, this is Stacy." Marina read. "Sam told us you punched a customer in the face last night."

I took a glance at Adam's line and quickly memorized it in my head. "That asshole tried to grab my dick. I'm a stripper, not a prostitute." As I was acting out the line, I couldn't help but look at Angelo. He avoided my gaze. My character, Adam, just insulted my profession.

Not that it was really something to be proud of.

"You do know that man you punched in the face is one of our most valued customers," Marina spoke Stacy's line. "I'll make this quick sweetheart, you are fired."

I hissed as I rolled my eyes and shook my head. I looked at my line and scrunched my brows, "And you think I fuckin' care? Hell, you need me more than I need you. Your most valued customer went there to see your most valued employee. Guess who that employee is...me," I tried delivering the line as calm but sassy as possible. Adam's character sounded like a diva. "Looking forward to your inevitable bankruptcy." I slammed the imaginary phone and stared at the ground.

I ran my hand through my hair and sighed, clenching my jaw. I stayed silent for a couple of seconds as I transitioned my annoyed expression to that of someone who felt lost.

"Thank you, Tony." Angelo pulled me back to reality.

•••

On my way home, I passed by a shop that sold used electronics. I checked my wallet and counted the money I had. I had about a hundred and eighty dollars.

My sister, Joanne, would be turning eighteen on Sunday. I had been setting aside money to get her a sewing machine. I couldn't buy her a new one since they are very expensive, but used ones were cheaper.

Joanne loved to sew and when mom and dad were still alive, she'd always tell them she'd be a big fashion designer in the future. She was a dreamer at the age of eight. Even until now, most of her clothes were her designs and they were all handsewn. She had such patience that I'd never have.

I walked in and approached the seller. He was a big bearded blond guy. "Hi," I smiled and continued, "I'm looking for a sewing machine."

"You're just in time, sir." The man, who surprisingly was soft-spoken, said. "Our used sewing machines are always out of stock but we actually have one left today."

He then signaled me to follow him as he led me to the sewing machine. For a used electronic, it looked almost good as new. It had a lovely pastel pink color and the case barely had scratches. "This looks so pretty." I grinned in excitement as I inspect the machine. "How much is it?"

"Two hundred dollars." The man said.

I sighed in annoyance. I didn't have enough cash in my wallet. "I'll take it for a hundred and fifty." I bargained, leaving a little allowance to the amount that I actually had.

"No sir, that's a little too low. A hundred and ninety?" The man offered.

"A hundred and sixty?" I said and pulled my nicest smile. I always believed a good smile lightens the mood of most people.

"A hundred and eighty." He wanted to close the deal, but I needed five dollars at least for a cab.

"How about a hundred and sixty-five?" I smirked.

"A hundred and seventy five, take it or leave it." The guy smirked.

"That's a deal." I grinned.

---End of Chapter 5---