Polite applause.More like clapping out of social obligation.
I checked the set list taped to the wall by the door.
I was next.Great.
Carol’s set lasted maybe seven minutes.I heard her muffled voice through the wall.Some bit about dating apps and her cat’s IBS.Tough crowd.Barely any laughs.
When she came offstage, Carol brushed past me, eyes glassy and wet, her hand swiping under her nose like she was about to cry.
Awesome.Tonight just kept getting better.
I bounced on the balls of my feet, rolling my neck, doing that little pre-show pacing thing comics do when they’re trying not to throw up.
The announcer’s voice crackled again:
“Next up… Nico Steele!”
I stepped out into the lights, forcing a grin like my rent depended on it.
The crowd stared at me.About forty people.Hipsters in beanies.A group of drunk finance bros in the back.A few lesbian couples near the front.And, dead center, Nessa and Moira, already waving like maniacs.
“All right, let’s get this out of the way,” I said, grabbing the mic.“Yes.Nico Steele is my real stage name.But… uh… different stage.”
A few chuckles.Good start.
“I know some of you are sitting there thinking… he looks familiar.Did I go to high school with him?Did I meet him at a bar?No, babe.You saw me naked on the internet.”
Bigger laugh.Nice.
“That’s right.I’m one of the rare artists who can say I make money by literally shaking my ass.And not like… metaphorically.Like actually shaking my ass.On camera.For money.More than a bank teller makes, by the way.And with better benefits.No 401k, but you should see our dental coverage.Gotta keep these teeth pretty for the cum shots.”
The lesbians in the front row howled.
I kept rolling.
“People ask me all the time, ‘Nico, what’s the hardest part about being in porn?’And I tell them, honestly… it’s keeping a straight face when your scene partner is making sex noises that sound like a dying lawn mower.”
That got Moira laughing so hard she slammed her hand on the table.
“And let me tell you, if you’ve never stared deeply into the dead eyes of a man named Bob, while pretending to passionately make love to him for a website called Manhammer… you haven’t truly lived.”
The place erupted.
By the time I wrapped my last joke, a bit about lube being the true universal solvent, I was sweating, wired, and practically vibrating with relief.
Applause hit me like a wave.
Real, actual applause.
I stepped off stage with my heart in my throat and a grin so wide my face hurt.
Maybe—just maybe—I wasn’t completely fucked after all.
ChapterTwo
Bradley
Istared at the cracked ceiling of the Chelsea International Hostel and wondered, not for the first time, how my life had gotten this fucking dire.
