Chapter 2: Chapter 2
It was the, “You’re Joe Salinas,” that did the trick.
Joe swiveled around and stared at the stripper. The Colgate smile was gone, the square jaw slack, blue eyes now wide with amazement. “I’m sorry,” Joe said. “Do I know you?”
It took a moment for his question to sink in. The stripper blinked once, then shook his head as if coming out of a stupor. “Shit, no. I listen to your show. Every night. Well, almost every night. When I can’t listen to you live, I stream it the next day. I wouldn’t miss it for anything.”
His earlier embarrassment changed hues, from being seen to being recognized. That never happened. First of all, his midnight radio program broadcast out of one of the smallest stations in Chicago, one specifically aimed at the gay community. Second, the music he played wasn’t the bubblegum crap that inundated the charts. He focused on local bands looking for airtime, anybody with a fresh voice or a message to be heard. Third, he never talked to anyone he didn’t know if he could help it. When he wasn’t at the radio station, he was usually buried in research and classes for his doctorate in bioethics from Loyola.
Besides, he had a tendency to blend in most of the time. Where the stripper would’ve stepped into the Bradley Cooper role of The Hangover, Joe more closely resembled the funny, furry guy. Except taller. And a little less hairy. And only amusing when he was hiding behind a microphone.
The stripper took his continued silence as permission to keep talking. “Of course, you’re the resident genius here. You’re, like, the smartest guy I’ve ever heard. What’re you doing at a bachelorette party?”
“I’ve been asking myself that all night,” Joe said dryly.
The stripper laughed. “I guess it doesn’t matter if it means I got the chance to meet you. I mean, seriously, dude, you have no idea what a treat this is.” He stuck his hand out. “I’m Fess Kedley, by the way.”
He took the guy’s offering, but his brain had tripped over the introduction. “Fess? Is that another stage name?”
“Nah, that’s having a mom with an unhealthy obsession.” With a grin, he tugged at the tail on his cap. “But it did help coming up with a gimmick.”
Joe’s sweaty palm reminded him of his mission. He didn’t need to short out the guy’s phone on top of looking like a fool because he felt like a yeti standing next to him. And he wasn’t even the one wearing all the fur.
“I better get this set up for you,” he said, backing up toward the door.
“Are you going to watch the show?”
In that moment, the very last thing he should’ve done was looked at Fess’s crotch and thought about the striptease to come. It was rude, out of place, and completely not his style.
It was also impossible to stop the impulse. Because in spite of everything else, Fess was still the model of male beauty, buckskins or not.
Without a word, he whirled on his heel and bolted for the stereo equipment in the corner. He hadn’t been blushing before. That had been nothing compared to the inferno currently scorching his cheeks.
As soon as the music started, he was out the door, ignoring Stacy’s frown, the tilt of Fess’s head as his gaze followed him out, and his own loathing for his personal cowardice.
* * * *
“So the next time you’re sitting around on a Saturday night, wondering why nobody is around on Facebook for you to brag to about beating Candy Crush, think about heading downtown so you can hear these guys play. Don’t let the fact that they look like they stepped out of an episode of Love Boatthrow you off. These guys will bring the house down and then stick around afterward to help you build it back up again. Trust me.”
The commercial music began playing beneath his outro, cuing Joe to wrap it up for the top of the hour break. He rattled through his call sign tags, then collapsed back in his chair once the on-air sign went off. The night was not one of his best, though at least he’d been smart enough not to get drunk before coming in to the station. He was relying too much on the music to carry the hours through, because every time his mouth opened to work, memories of Fess and the damn bachelorette party kept getting in the way.
A tap on the glass forced him to open his eyes and squint at Carlos, the night manager, on the other side. “What?”
“Phone call.”
With a frown, Joe glanced at the line box, and sure enough, there was the red light blinking. “Who is it?”
“A listener.”
“And I’m a call-in show since when? Wait, survey says…” He made a buzzing noise. “Never.”
Carlos shrugged. “He says he knows you.”
“He could say he was the Pope and you’d believe him.”
“Hey, that could happen. He likes us now, remember?”
Joe rolled his eyes. “You know the drill. I’m not taking it.”
He refused to look at Carlos again as he got back on the phone, but fifteen seconds later, another tap came at the glass.
Gifts
-- Gift
received Weekly Power Status
-- Power
Ranking 
-- Power
stone