Damascus had lost a lot of weight. Metaphorically and in reality.
He had been hit much worse than he realized.
The heavy slugs had plowed through his muscular gluteus and upper thigh at approximately 1000 ft./s The bullet that tore into his palm, remarkably did very little damage.
Damascus, had recovered but he still had a lot of pain.
He had abandoned the “Night life” and used his reduced, but still considerable size for a large security company at a high rise office building. It was boring, but boring was good.
Damascus, if he was honest with himself, missed the quick money and short hours of nightclub work.
He also missed his friends. He didn't know why, but some of the closest dudes to him had completely cast him aside.
Those “friends”, and the Owner's of the club, had clearly forgotten the existence of “The Wall.”
The family of the guy who Damascus had been forced to kill, sued the club and it appeared the owner's blamed him for the lawsuit.
He couldn't worry about it, the added weight of those fair weather friends wasn't missed.
At first wearing a suit and tie every day grated Damascus nerves, but he began to like the way he looked dressed up.
The pay however was much less. The hourly rate might have been the same but that didn't factor in tips and tip-out. The difference added up.
The year-long recovery had been grueling, and expensive. Damascus had been forced to do it all alone and without insurance.
The cold fact was that the main reason he was working for the security company was the benefits. The ordeal of his own healthcare had made him keenly aware of the need.
Damascus wore his suit/uniform well. He wasn't the 4 hour a day gym-junkie he had once been. He worked out now only, when the pain permitted.
The Dr. had tossed narcotic prescriptions at Damascus but he staunchly refused to take them.
He stood, and stretched, his spine making a satisfying crack as he bent backwards. Damascus did a quick twist at his waist to get another crack from his beleaguered backbone.
His right buttock still felt raw and unhealed, he had been plagued by serious muscle tears in the past, and that’s what it felt like.
The building where he worked was for all intents and purposes empty. A few employees were banging out last minute expense reports, or putting together multi -million dollar presentations and eating cold pizza.
However, the majority of the employees were gone for the weekend.
It was a typical Friday night, yet totally different. Damascus, worked the 3-11 shift Monday thru Friday and T.G.I.F.
Normally, the large man had no particular place to go when his relief showed up at 11:05 or 23:05. The company insisted on its security officers using military time. The young braces wearing guy who relieved Damascus was always 5 minutes late. At least he was consistent.
Tonight Damascus had a date. Loneliness had driven him to online dating and it was a hilarious ride.
The funniest thing were the white women, most of whom clearly stated in their bio that they “DON'T DATE OUTSIDE THEIR RACE!”
He always thought. “So, why are you messing with me?” to him those women were so asinine. Damascus, might have only been a bodyguard/bouncer/security guard, but he was smart enough to know that there's only one race on our planet.
His date for the night was a sister that he had been conversing with for the last two weeks.
Of all the things that Damascus had, been forced to get accustomed to the new dating game was the worst. Punching a literal clock came in 2nd, fortunately the building he worked at was sign in, but it still annoyed him.
When Eugene walked through the glass doors at 11:05 Damascus shot off a quick text, "OMW."
Gwendolyn, had insisted on meeting him at the venue rather than allowing him to pick her up. Deciding what to do had been the next hurdle.
Damascus wanted to be unique, and to that end had agreed to pay the junkie that cleaned the club he used to work for to put on a private magic show on the patio of the after-hours spot.
He had worked their long enough to know that while the kitchen, bar, and hookah bar, were open at 10:00 p.m. Gwendolyn and he would have the place pretty much to themselves.
There were two waitresses during this slow time Dj Mon-Tanner didn't start spinning until 2:00, and the crowd arrived at 3:30.
Damascus, whipped his burgundy F-150 through the traffic on 285 and arrived at the small but classy cabaret.
He noticed that “magic” a former magician turned crack addict, had dressed up for the occasion. His orange hi-top converse looked brand new, and while they didn't match the tux jacket and vest Magic wore over his Rustler jeans, The Wall was glad to see that the $40 he had given the junkie had been put to good use.
Magic, winked at the former bouncer as he appeared to levitate a dollar bill between his outstretched hands. He had always thought highly of Wall, the man always treated him like a man and not a crack head, not to mention the time the Wall had kicked the dealer who was pistol whipping magic’s ass. Magic, was planning to do a great show.
Gwendolyn’s candy apple red 740il BMW pulled into the parking lot, moments later. One of the valets caught Damascus eye. The large man nodded his perfectly lined and faded head once.
The Valet opened the door and proffered his arm. “How much is parking?” Gwendolyn asked ignoring the extended elbow. “You're Damascus guest ma'am, I wouldn't charge you!” The man offered her his folded arm yet again.
She was spectacular. Her face lineless despite being only two years Damascus junior. Gwendolyn wore a high-low off the shoulder cocktail skater, it showed arms that were toned, but not over muscled, legs that would make a track star jealous, and a butt that made the mid thigh dress into a mini.
Damascus, went to the middle of the stairs, and offered to take Gwendolyn from the valet’s care. He noticed that she was only touching the valet with 2 fingers. For him, she flashed a brilliant smile.
“Hello, it's good to meet you in person. I grabbed a menu and ordered an appetizer.” Damascus said.
The full moon hung yellow and fat above them, as the early waitress brought them the house special vegetarian tray and “come back” sauce.
Damascus, observed the woman's body language.
The chairs had seemed offensive, their was a slight pinch to her lips as she looked around the patio.
“This is quaint.” She breathed. Damn she was a fine looking woman.
Her lips and eyes were so perfect they could have been drawn. Gwendolyn, was regal and beautiful.
She wasn't as easygoing in person as she had been via phone, however. She was curt with the waitress as she ordered her dirty martini.
Yes, she was interested in him, but was apparently judging everything.
As Magic approached their table, he began by pulling roses from his previously empty sleeves.
The few other early patrons, there for the club's signature food items, applauded and tipped the street performer. Gwendolyn’s face contorted and she insisted that “the crack head” be removed despite the magician’s skill.
Damascus refused to even say a cross word to the man instead he said. “You look like a Queen, but you have no class and no soul! This man has more class than you'll ever be able to buy, no matter how much money you have.”
Gwendolyn’s aging model features took a couple of seconds to contort into full blown rage, but once they reached it, there they stayed.
Her voice was less crisp, and her accent vastly different once the cursing began.
Her honest opinions poured out of the mouth that was so beautiful, in terms that were so ugly.
“Magic” had stepped away from her venomous tirade and was doing mind blowing card tricks for the steady trickle of customers buying “Lamb lollipops”, “Dragon Wings”, and “Flounder burgers” dishes that the club's chef had perfected. Dishes that gave the club lots of carryout business.
The inebriated late night dinner seekers, tipped the tux clad magician for the show and stole glances at the show the tall Versace wearing woman was putting on.
Once she was done cursing him out, Gwendolyn left in a huff.
A tired Damascus sat down and ordered a double Bourbon Salmon burger with lettuce, tomato and cheese.
He realized as he ate that he was going to have to reevaluate this dating game.
He had been hit much worse than he realized.
The heavy slugs had plowed through his muscular gluteus and upper thigh at approximately 1000 ft./s The bullet that tore into his palm, remarkably did very little damage.
Damascus, had recovered but he still had a lot of pain.
He had abandoned the “Night life” and used his reduced, but still considerable size for a large security company at a high rise office building. It was boring, but boring was good.
Damascus, if he was honest with himself, missed the quick money and short hours of nightclub work.
He also missed his friends. He didn't know why, but some of the closest dudes to him had completely cast him aside.
Those “friends”, and the Owner's of the club, had clearly forgotten the existence of “The Wall.”
The family of the guy who Damascus had been forced to kill, sued the club and it appeared the owner's blamed him for the lawsuit.
He couldn't worry about it, the added weight of those fair weather friends wasn't missed.
At first wearing a suit and tie every day grated Damascus nerves, but he began to like the way he looked dressed up.
The pay however was much less. The hourly rate might have been the same but that didn't factor in tips and tip-out. The difference added up.
The year-long recovery had been grueling, and expensive. Damascus had been forced to do it all alone and without insurance.
The cold fact was that the main reason he was working for the security company was the benefits. The ordeal of his own healthcare had made him keenly aware of the need.
Damascus wore his suit/uniform well. He wasn't the 4 hour a day gym-junkie he had once been. He worked out now only, when the pain permitted.
The Dr. had tossed narcotic prescriptions at Damascus but he staunchly refused to take them.
He stood, and stretched, his spine making a satisfying crack as he bent backwards. Damascus did a quick twist at his waist to get another crack from his beleaguered backbone.
His right buttock still felt raw and unhealed, he had been plagued by serious muscle tears in the past, and that’s what it felt like.
The building where he worked was for all intents and purposes empty. A few employees were banging out last minute expense reports, or putting together multi -million dollar presentations and eating cold pizza.
However, the majority of the employees were gone for the weekend.
It was a typical Friday night, yet totally different. Damascus, worked the 3-11 shift Monday thru Friday and T.G.I.F.
Normally, the large man had no particular place to go when his relief showed up at 11:05 or 23:05. The company insisted on its security officers using military time. The young braces wearing guy who relieved Damascus was always 5 minutes late. At least he was consistent.
Tonight Damascus had a date. Loneliness had driven him to online dating and it was a hilarious ride.
The funniest thing were the white women, most of whom clearly stated in their bio that they “DON'T DATE OUTSIDE THEIR RACE!”
He always thought. “So, why are you messing with me?” to him those women were so asinine. Damascus, might have only been a bodyguard/bouncer/security guard, but he was smart enough to know that there's only one race on our planet.
His date for the night was a sister that he had been conversing with for the last two weeks.
Of all the things that Damascus had, been forced to get accustomed to the new dating game was the worst. Punching a literal clock came in 2nd, fortunately the building he worked at was sign in, but it still annoyed him.
When Eugene walked through the glass doors at 11:05 Damascus shot off a quick text, "OMW."
Gwendolyn, had insisted on meeting him at the venue rather than allowing him to pick her up. Deciding what to do had been the next hurdle.
Damascus wanted to be unique, and to that end had agreed to pay the junkie that cleaned the club he used to work for to put on a private magic show on the patio of the after-hours spot.
He had worked their long enough to know that while the kitchen, bar, and hookah bar, were open at 10:00 p.m. Gwendolyn and he would have the place pretty much to themselves.
There were two waitresses during this slow time Dj Mon-Tanner didn't start spinning until 2:00, and the crowd arrived at 3:30.
Damascus, whipped his burgundy F-150 through the traffic on 285 and arrived at the small but classy cabaret.
He noticed that “magic” a former magician turned crack addict, had dressed up for the occasion. His orange hi-top converse looked brand new, and while they didn't match the tux jacket and vest Magic wore over his Rustler jeans, The Wall was glad to see that the $40 he had given the junkie had been put to good use.
Magic, winked at the former bouncer as he appeared to levitate a dollar bill between his outstretched hands. He had always thought highly of Wall, the man always treated him like a man and not a crack head, not to mention the time the Wall had kicked the dealer who was pistol whipping magic’s ass. Magic, was planning to do a great show.
Gwendolyn’s candy apple red 740il BMW pulled into the parking lot, moments later. One of the valets caught Damascus eye. The large man nodded his perfectly lined and faded head once.
The Valet opened the door and proffered his arm. “How much is parking?” Gwendolyn asked ignoring the extended elbow. “You're Damascus guest ma'am, I wouldn't charge you!” The man offered her his folded arm yet again.
She was spectacular. Her face lineless despite being only two years Damascus junior. Gwendolyn wore a high-low off the shoulder cocktail skater, it showed arms that were toned, but not over muscled, legs that would make a track star jealous, and a butt that made the mid thigh dress into a mini.
Damascus, went to the middle of the stairs, and offered to take Gwendolyn from the valet’s care. He noticed that she was only touching the valet with 2 fingers. For him, she flashed a brilliant smile.
“Hello, it's good to meet you in person. I grabbed a menu and ordered an appetizer.” Damascus said.
The full moon hung yellow and fat above them, as the early waitress brought them the house special vegetarian tray and “come back” sauce.
Damascus, observed the woman's body language.
The chairs had seemed offensive, their was a slight pinch to her lips as she looked around the patio.
“This is quaint.” She breathed. Damn she was a fine looking woman.
Her lips and eyes were so perfect they could have been drawn. Gwendolyn, was regal and beautiful.
She wasn't as easygoing in person as she had been via phone, however. She was curt with the waitress as she ordered her dirty martini.
Yes, she was interested in him, but was apparently judging everything.
As Magic approached their table, he began by pulling roses from his previously empty sleeves.
The few other early patrons, there for the club's signature food items, applauded and tipped the street performer. Gwendolyn’s face contorted and she insisted that “the crack head” be removed despite the magician’s skill.
Damascus refused to even say a cross word to the man instead he said. “You look like a Queen, but you have no class and no soul! This man has more class than you'll ever be able to buy, no matter how much money you have.”
Gwendolyn’s aging model features took a couple of seconds to contort into full blown rage, but once they reached it, there they stayed.
Her voice was less crisp, and her accent vastly different once the cursing began.
Her honest opinions poured out of the mouth that was so beautiful, in terms that were so ugly.
“Magic” had stepped away from her venomous tirade and was doing mind blowing card tricks for the steady trickle of customers buying “Lamb lollipops”, “Dragon Wings”, and “Flounder burgers” dishes that the club's chef had perfected. Dishes that gave the club lots of carryout business.
The inebriated late night dinner seekers, tipped the tux clad magician for the show and stole glances at the show the tall Versace wearing woman was putting on.
Once she was done cursing him out, Gwendolyn left in a huff.
A tired Damascus sat down and ordered a double Bourbon Salmon burger with lettuce, tomato and cheese.
He realized as he ate that he was going to have to reevaluate this dating game.
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