Control (Boyxboy)

Chapter One: Perverts

"Hey smart ass, can you clean any faster? I want to close up shop." the part time manager barked across the almost squeaky clean floor. All courtesy to my skills as bus boy - if you'd could call it that.

I liked to call it the bitch boy.

For once split second I prayed he would slip on my perfect cleaning job but then I remembered - they would make me clean up the bloody mess too.

"I would if you'd shut the fuck up," I muttered quietly under my breath, absolutely loathing the new manager who always made his rounds under my skin.

The checkerboard floor was one of the many things I was in charge of. Then followed the dishes in the kitchen, and the disgusting stalls in the bathroom. But hey anything to make a quick buck. At least that's what I told myself.

The best part - he expected it to be done in less than thirty minutes! I can't even manage one section in that time! He did it purpose. I knew he did. It was to make my life a living hell.

"What was that?" he asked.

"Nothing," I said sweetly, and he glared at me before he turned away to go lock the back door.

Once I was finished with the floor I wheeled the bucket to the back, and closed it inside the closet for someone to dump in the morning. Only for the winter Benji, I told myself, I could handle it.

"I finished," I announced but I couldn't care if he heard me or not. I went back to my locker in haste acknowledging it's location all the way in the back of the shop, not far from the kitchen and a ways from the owners office.

My blue locker still looked the same as it did yesterday even though someone drew a dick on it, maybe to make fun of me, I wasn't sure. The boss said he would take care of it but he we are a couple days later with the same awful drawing of a dick.

I kept my jeans on and changed my shirt, hurriedly stuffing my things into my bag before I locked my locker and went on my way to the back. I went out the back door checking if he really did lock it before I made my way down the noisy street. I fumbled for my wallet as I called down a taxi in the cool chilly night, texting Em I would be home in a bit.

I relaxed into the worn out seat, reading over the little posters and such to keep me distracted from the smell of stingy cigars and bad jokes. I only lived a few miles away but I didn't want to walk in the cold, so this was my alternative for the time of winter. Once I got to my stop, I paid the driver with a twenty, expecting to get fifteen back. Instead, I got a ten and a smirk full of yellow teeth.

"I gave you twenty, I need fifteen back," I grumbled, ready to start a scene so late at night. I wasn't surprised to see that his stupid face could get even uglier when he sneered.

"What about a tip?" he asked, his cigar dangling from his mouth. I retracted, but the puff of smoke smacked me straight in the face.

"Are you an idiot? I am not tipping you five dollars, now hand it over before I call your boss." I said and he sighed before digging into his change purse, pulling out a five dollar bill.

"Can I have your number baby?" he asked and my hand acted faster than my words as I slammed the door without a single drop of remorse in my body.

This wasn't exactly the neighborhood of the governor, and the things that went on here weren't for anyone with a faint heart.

He was probably some pimp - I shivered - they were everywhere. 

I turned toward the apartment building, wondering if I should have asked him to drop me off a block before. It was too late now.