Peter knew that the best tips came after hours, after the first show was over, after the second show was over. The dancers would come out of the dressing rooms, the girls-du-jour on their arms, probably a little stoned from whatever concoction the took to get them up, out there, ready to please.
Dallas was an okay boss, he watched the levels in the bottles, but not so carefully that if Peter was a little heavy handed when pouring for the boys, he got his panties in a twist. Not that Dallas wore panties. The man was built like a god and proud of it.
When he came to Miami, lost and lonely, the last place he expected to land was a strip club featuring guys. But he needed a job and he couldn't be picky. Six months in prison for securities fraud - the only person in Adler's organization to serve time - sort of killed his future.
His wife was gone, long gone. The day he was arrested, Elizabeth took the dog and headed for the hills. His attorney shook his head when he handed him the package with the divorce papers. Moz was a good guy, he worked the system, got him a deal - six months in Club Fed - but he couldn't get him his life back.
Peter didn't know what motivated him to walk into this particular club. Maybe it was the picture of the dancers - one of them was the spitting image of one of Adler's bright young things - his "Head of Acquisitions." Caffrey was his name, and like everyone else, he had lost it all when Adler split town with billions. He wondered what happened to the kid. Adler was intent on grooming him, for more than just an office in the C-Suite.
Peter had eyes in his head, he had seen how taken Caffrey was with the boss' admin. Apparently Caffrey didn't know that the lovely Ms Moreau was Adler's through and through. He had been surprised that the Feds never went after her - too chivalrous, maybe?
But that was another life. The moment he met that dancer, he knew the guy wasn't Neal Caffrey. Too old, too badly used, too stupid.
At least he tipped well, and better yet, gave good head.
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Peter Burke, Xquisite Bartender (WC/MM Fusion)
Date: 2012-10-02 06:46 pm (UTC)Dallas was an okay boss, he watched the levels in the bottles, but not so carefully that if Peter was a little heavy handed when pouring for the boys, he got his panties in a twist. Not that Dallas wore panties. The man was built like a god and proud of it.
When he came to Miami, lost and lonely, the last place he expected to land was a strip club featuring guys. But he needed a job and he couldn't be picky. Six months in prison for securities fraud - the only person in Adler's organization to serve time - sort of killed his future.
His wife was gone, long gone. The day he was arrested, Elizabeth took the dog and headed for the hills. His attorney shook his head when he handed him the package with the divorce papers. Moz was a good guy, he worked the system, got him a deal - six months in Club Fed - but he couldn't get him his life back.
Peter didn't know what motivated him to walk into this particular club. Maybe it was the picture of the dancers - one of them was the spitting image of one of Adler's bright young things - his "Head of Acquisitions." Caffrey was his name, and like everyone else, he had lost it all when Adler split town with billions. He wondered what happened to the kid. Adler was intent on grooming him, for more than just an office in the C-Suite.
Peter had eyes in his head, he had seen how taken Caffrey was with the boss' admin. Apparently Caffrey didn't know that the lovely Ms Moreau was Adler's through and through. He had been surprised that the Feds never went after her - too chivalrous, maybe?
But that was another life. The moment he met that dancer, he knew the guy wasn't Neal Caffrey. Too old, too badly used, too stupid.
At least he tipped well, and better yet, gave good head.