As the sun set, the heat went with it. It had been unbearably hot for the past week and now the rains were coming. The sky was darkening with the formation of thick, grey clouds creeping across like a fluffy blanket full of moisture. Cam tucked his hands as deep into his hoodie pocket as he could, clasping fingers together to try and keep them warm. The chill made his hips ache and a panic rose in him. It wasn't supposed to be this cold yet, there was still all of the autumn heat to sort out. He hadn't had enough time to secure a place for the winter.
Instead of allowing the anxiety to paralyze him, Cam made his way into the heart of the city. Despite the fact most of the shops were closing up, there were a few that were just opening their doors and letting people enter. Bars, night clubs and late-night foodies let their "Open" signs flicker to life, filling the air with the sound of buzzing neon lights and street lamps. He would need a quick sink wash, but Cam made his way to one of the bars hidden down a stairway between two buildings. As he walked towards the front door, a larger man blocked his path and cleared his throat. Cam looked up, blinking at the taller man. The wiry male pulled his hood down to reveal his messy blonde hair and his dark eyes. The bouncer relaxed and stepped aside, making a jerking motion with his chin to invite Cam into the establishment.
Cam made his way into the bar, beyond the open floor where staff were placing tables over the freshly cleaned floors and the other bartender was helping set up the stage for performers. The bartender on stage whistled at Cam, catching his attention as he was cutting across the mostly empty floor towards the dressing rooms. Dark eyes met bright green ones.
"We've got two large groups tonight. Work events or something. Here to watch the stand-up acts. You're gonna work the floor while I work the counter."
It wasn't a question, though not quite a demand either. Cam had no complaints and just gave a nod in response to the appointed tasking. He strode the rest of the way to the dressing rooms where dancers usually were changing for their performances on stage. The bar was one of the only burlesque homes left, though they could only hold the nights when there were enough performers signed up. This week they were filling in the empty slots with amateur stand-up comedians and karaoke. The dressing room was empty, all things in their places and a note written in lipstick on one of the mirrors by the most recent batch of performers thanking the bar for hosting them. The gesture made Cam smile and he found his way to the wash room, being quick about cleansing himself from the sink and getting dressed in the work clothes that had been waiting for him.
The bartender, a single mom in her early 30s, always knew when Cam was going to be washing and left the clothes near the sink for him. It was a small thing, but it made Cam feel both anxious about someone noticing him and filled with a warm and fuzzy feeling at someone truly seeing him and caring about his well-being. The clothes were borrowed from Ginger, the bartender. Ginger was two sizes bigger than Cam, but she had altered the clothes to better fit him so he wouldn't be swimming in them while helping her out. This was also something that touched his heart and had endeared him to her, despite both of their adamant attempts at keeping each other at arm's length. He supposed there were still good, caring mothers out there.
Cam was quick to wash and dress, then set to work helping the staff set up. While he wasn't going to get an actual paycheck, Ginger gave him a decent portion of the tips they made whenever he worked. The night started out well enough. Customers came in, ordered their drinks, sat at tables and waited for the comedians to take stage. Cam was walking the floor, delivering drinks and taking orders back to the counter. Halfway through his shift, Cam started to feel a sharp pain in his abdomen and was reminded that it had been a while since his last meal. He stumbled to the counter and waved Ginger down.
"Honey, you look awful pale. Are you feelin' alright?"
Cam felt the sweat trickle down the back of his neck and opened his mouth to speak, but quickly grabbed one of the empty ice buckets and the sharp bitterness of bile filled his mouth before making it into the bucket. Ginger called one of the auxiliary staff over to cover the bar while she took Cam to the dressing rooms. Cam got sick once more when they reached the bathroom, managing to aim for the toiler and avoid a mess he'd have to clean up. Another cramp tightened in his gut and he let out a pathetic sound before the contents of his stomach were upended again. Sweat made his shirt stick to his back and sides, making him feel like the cloth would wrap around and squeeze him to death. He hurriedly pulled off the layers, not even registering that Ginger was talking to him as he stripped of the vile wrappings. Once he was free of his restraints, hazel eyes glanced up at a worried face. Ginger saw the ugly scars across his chest, indicating the hasty removal of his pectoral weights.
"Oh, sweetie..."
The sound of pity stung, but another series of cramps overtook Cam's brain and he couldn't think beyond the sick feeling in his gut and the pain that radiated from his lower back up to the base of his skull. Something wasn't right. He hadn't felt these pains in quite a long time. He'd been taking herbs to curb the cycle... but when was the last time he'd taken them? Had he missed a dose? He knew he'd been running low, but had he stopped taking them to ensure he had them if he really needed? Ginger helped ease his suffering, bringing some of her own medicine and comforts for him. She spoke softly and didn't ask him anything, she just started talking about her son. Cam didn't hear much of it, the pain fogging his mind too much for him to focus, but her tone had a lulling effect that helped put him to sleep. Once the boy was unconscious, Ginger re-dressed him in some of her spare clothes that she kept in case of emergencies at work and had one of the stronger men carry Cam out to her car. There was no way she'd let this poor boy wander the streets in this condition. She finished out her shift and then took Cam home, putting both the boys to bed before putting on some coffee and getting ready to start her day once the two arose from slumber again.
Word Count: 1188
Instead of allowing the anxiety to paralyze him, Cam made his way into the heart of the city. Despite the fact most of the shops were closing up, there were a few that were just opening their doors and letting people enter. Bars, night clubs and late-night foodies let their "Open" signs flicker to life, filling the air with the sound of buzzing neon lights and street lamps. He would need a quick sink wash, but Cam made his way to one of the bars hidden down a stairway between two buildings. As he walked towards the front door, a larger man blocked his path and cleared his throat. Cam looked up, blinking at the taller man. The wiry male pulled his hood down to reveal his messy blonde hair and his dark eyes. The bouncer relaxed and stepped aside, making a jerking motion with his chin to invite Cam into the establishment.
Cam made his way into the bar, beyond the open floor where staff were placing tables over the freshly cleaned floors and the other bartender was helping set up the stage for performers. The bartender on stage whistled at Cam, catching his attention as he was cutting across the mostly empty floor towards the dressing rooms. Dark eyes met bright green ones.
"We've got two large groups tonight. Work events or something. Here to watch the stand-up acts. You're gonna work the floor while I work the counter."
It wasn't a question, though not quite a demand either. Cam had no complaints and just gave a nod in response to the appointed tasking. He strode the rest of the way to the dressing rooms where dancers usually were changing for their performances on stage. The bar was one of the only burlesque homes left, though they could only hold the nights when there were enough performers signed up. This week they were filling in the empty slots with amateur stand-up comedians and karaoke. The dressing room was empty, all things in their places and a note written in lipstick on one of the mirrors by the most recent batch of performers thanking the bar for hosting them. The gesture made Cam smile and he found his way to the wash room, being quick about cleansing himself from the sink and getting dressed in the work clothes that had been waiting for him.
The bartender, a single mom in her early 30s, always knew when Cam was going to be washing and left the clothes near the sink for him. It was a small thing, but it made Cam feel both anxious about someone noticing him and filled with a warm and fuzzy feeling at someone truly seeing him and caring about his well-being. The clothes were borrowed from Ginger, the bartender. Ginger was two sizes bigger than Cam, but she had altered the clothes to better fit him so he wouldn't be swimming in them while helping her out. This was also something that touched his heart and had endeared him to her, despite both of their adamant attempts at keeping each other at arm's length. He supposed there were still good, caring mothers out there.
Cam was quick to wash and dress, then set to work helping the staff set up. While he wasn't going to get an actual paycheck, Ginger gave him a decent portion of the tips they made whenever he worked. The night started out well enough. Customers came in, ordered their drinks, sat at tables and waited for the comedians to take stage. Cam was walking the floor, delivering drinks and taking orders back to the counter. Halfway through his shift, Cam started to feel a sharp pain in his abdomen and was reminded that it had been a while since his last meal. He stumbled to the counter and waved Ginger down.
"Honey, you look awful pale. Are you feelin' alright?"
Cam felt the sweat trickle down the back of his neck and opened his mouth to speak, but quickly grabbed one of the empty ice buckets and the sharp bitterness of bile filled his mouth before making it into the bucket. Ginger called one of the auxiliary staff over to cover the bar while she took Cam to the dressing rooms. Cam got sick once more when they reached the bathroom, managing to aim for the toiler and avoid a mess he'd have to clean up. Another cramp tightened in his gut and he let out a pathetic sound before the contents of his stomach were upended again. Sweat made his shirt stick to his back and sides, making him feel like the cloth would wrap around and squeeze him to death. He hurriedly pulled off the layers, not even registering that Ginger was talking to him as he stripped of the vile wrappings. Once he was free of his restraints, hazel eyes glanced up at a worried face. Ginger saw the ugly scars across his chest, indicating the hasty removal of his pectoral weights.
"Oh, sweetie..."
The sound of pity stung, but another series of cramps overtook Cam's brain and he couldn't think beyond the sick feeling in his gut and the pain that radiated from his lower back up to the base of his skull. Something wasn't right. He hadn't felt these pains in quite a long time. He'd been taking herbs to curb the cycle... but when was the last time he'd taken them? Had he missed a dose? He knew he'd been running low, but had he stopped taking them to ensure he had them if he really needed? Ginger helped ease his suffering, bringing some of her own medicine and comforts for him. She spoke softly and didn't ask him anything, she just started talking about her son. Cam didn't hear much of it, the pain fogging his mind too much for him to focus, but her tone had a lulling effect that helped put him to sleep. Once the boy was unconscious, Ginger re-dressed him in some of her spare clothes that she kept in case of emergencies at work and had one of the stronger men carry Cam out to her car. There was no way she'd let this poor boy wander the streets in this condition. She finished out her shift and then took Cam home, putting both the boys to bed before putting on some coffee and getting ready to start her day once the two arose from slumber again.
Word Count: 1188
