A Fuckton of Polygrumps

Red Light Pt. 2: Tricks of the Trade

Synopsis: Back by popular demand! Arin meets two starkly different men that need him as much as he needs them. First impressions are crucial.

No one really knows why Arin chose to do that kind of work. Maybe it was money. Maybe it was power. Maybe both. No one really knows how the pimp hierarchy works. Still, he'd been doing it for a good year and he was pretty damn good at it. His calm voice and infectious laugh made his job several times easier. In fact, he was almost too good. He reserved violence for what he considered moments which required a bit of extra reinforcement.

It was March 14th and the air was still chilly out. In a beat-up old blue Honda sat a wild-haired 24 year old man. Danny, this man, leaned forward in the driver's seat, staring at the white powder he'd lined up on the dashboard. Those days, he snorted cocaine just to remind himself that he felt something. Music was all he cared about and because of that, he was living out of a car that he could barely afford gas for. He had a notebook full of lyrics and scrawls of chords, but nothing healthy for food, only having enough money to buy low-grade cocaine and decent weed, and a bass guitar. It was a less than desirable existence to be sure, but the cocaine made it feel less like an immediate reality. He'd occasionally apply for jobs and couch surf with friends, but living in the car allowed him to be one with his music. The 14th was his birthday and goddammit, he was going to celebrate by snorting enough coke to knock him out. 

Arin strolled through the city, the type of whore he was looking for etched in his mind. He needed variety for his business. He wanted someone who looked different from Ross in almost every aspect. He needed someone who wasn't sadistic or using his job in order to see how much money he could suck out of a wallet. A tortured soul was something different. Someone damaged by the world would be nice. Eyes deep, but compassionate. He'd know him when he saw him for sure.

With a twinge of reluctance, Dan leaned down and snorted the line of cocaine that he'd so carefully cut himself. He only sat up when he heard a tapping on his window.

"Hey, man, you got a light," Arin asked, leaning down from the curb to the car window.

"What?"

Arin smirked and gestured for him to roll down the window.

"I said, have you got a light? Mine isn't working."

Dan dug around in the glove compartment while Arin let himself in, sitting on the passenger's side.

"My, that's a nasty little habit you got there, huh?"

"What do you me-"

Arin held out a tissue. Apparently Dan's nose had been bleeding. Again. He groaned and took the tissue, dabbing at the blood. He tossed it aside, continuing to rummage through the cluttered glove compartment.

"Shit...I think I lost mine...sorry, man-"

"It's fine. I don't even smoke," Arin snorted. "I needed an excuse to get in the car. I'm Arin. Nice to meet ya."

Dan reluctantly shook the man's hand and his eyes were drawn to the stack of money sticking out of Arin's pants pocket. He could probably seduce enough money out of him to pay for his next fix...or even a decent meal. Arin noticed that longing gaze and knew exactly what he needed to do next.

"Are you hungry," he asked, his smile as genuine as it could be.

"Starving..."

"Come on. I'll buy you a burger."

Dan nodded excitedly. He'd thrown manners to the wind since he was so hungry and alone for so long. He got out of his car, digging his hands into the pockets of his moss green jacket. Arin stood up and stretched his legs, tucking his own large hands into the pockets of his red leather jacket.