Chapter Nineteen

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"You know I was bluffing."

Malcolm arched a brow. It was Monday and though his eye was still sore ice and arnica helped him considerably. He was sorer in other parts of his body and that was significantly more inconvenient.

It was worth it, though. But it was because of the soreness that when he went in to get his last check at Divinity that he stood in front of Mac's desk and didn't sit. He had chosen to go in the afternoon, when he knew Mac would be in but it would be much slower.

"You realized that you're not actually fired, right?" Mac told him. He was staring at Malcolm with a leveled gaze. "You're one of my best draws, Alejandro. I can't afford to lose you."

Malcolm shrugged. "I'm not interested in your sales pitch, Mac. Can you just give me my last check so I can be on my way?"

"I'll double your salary,"Mac said. "Do you see this?" He gestured to one of two posters behind his chair. They were different advertisement posters for Divinity; one showing a silhouetted woman's body (her name is Markie, isn't it? Malcolm idly wondered) and the other showed a man's muscular abs. Malcolm's muscular abs. "Business has picked up for the men's side because of this! Because of your body, Alejandro! I need you!"

"I know you do," Malcolm said, sighing in exasperation. "But on Friday night you didn't treat me like your top draw. You treated me like a piece of meat. You've treated me like a piece of meat, Mac!"

Mac scoffed. "If you're scared about being objectified, then you got into the wrong business Alejandro."

"Maybe I did," Malcolm said. "So consider this my exit." He held out his hand. "Just give me my check, please."

Mac's nostrils flared with rising rage. "If you walk about that door," he seethed. "Then don't expect to be able to work in any other club in this city again."

"Fine," Malcolm shot back, his tone turning sharp. "I won't missed being pinched, groped, and punched in the fucking face by an out of control drunk chick. It was a fun job that paid well, but it's not so enjoyable being treated like shit by customers, and you're too scared to call the police. Are you going to give me my check or not?"

Mac's face was now turning purple. Malcolm was concerned that he would fly across the desk and attack him. Instead he reached into his desk and pulled out an envelope. He slammed it into Malcolm's outstretched hand. "If I ever see your face again—"

"Thank you for the past two years," Malcolm interjected, softening his tone. "I know you made a lot money off me, and I in turn made a lot of money because of you. I wish you the best, Mac."

Mac looked stunned. Malcolm held onto his smile as he turned and walked away. 

~*~

"Tyler, a customer up front was asking for you."

"I'm busy," Tyler grunted. He was headfirst under the hood of a Ram™️ and he was covered in sweat and gunk. He really wanted to take a shower, but he still had four hours left in his shift.

"They're insisting on speaking to you," his coworker pressed.

"Did you tell them that I'm in the middle of replacing the transmission on a truck?"

"They said they'll wait."

"Shit." Tyler pulled himself out of the hood. The customer had not been keeping up with maintenance on the car, and it show with the black streaks on his arms and shirt. "I'll deal with it now," he said irritably. "If TJ asks, tell him I'm dealing with a customer."

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