Page 92 of Big Britches

“Try me.”

“I told you that after my father died, it was up to me to help support my mother–our household.”

“Still applies, right? I assume you’re sending her money.”

“I am. It’s just, there, landscaping is not very lucrative. I had to find other ways to make money. Holbox Island, nearby–”

“I remember. You said it was touristy.”

“Yeah. Lots of beaches, nightlife, bars… strip clubs.”

“Wait a minute. Holy shit. You were a stripper, weren’t you?”

“My mother would die if she ever found out. She thought I was out late waiting tables.”

“Well, it certainly explains some of those sexy moves you made that first time you mowed my grass–the water bottle. Damn!”

Pedro blushed.

“I kinda like it now that I think about it–dating a former stripper. Visualizing you out there strutting your stuff for the ladies kinda turns me on.”

“There were men too. Women and gay men predominantly. Lots of closeted gay men. You know–on vacation, away from their normal lives. The owner of the club was gay.”

“Makes sense.”

“Often, I slept with these men for money.”

Titus gave Pedro a sweet, acknowledging smile. “I figured that might be the case. I mean, in that environment, it sounds like a logical side hustle to make more money. Dangerous, maybe. But it’s OK now, P, as long as you’re OK. That’s all that matters. You did what you had to do to put food on the table. I would never hold that against you.”

“Sometimes it was more than one at a time. Sometimes, the club owner would arrange parties and there were more men than I could count.”

Titus fidgeted, uneasy with this tidbit. But, to his credit, he continued playing Pedro’s revelation down. “It’s all in the past,” he said. “I’m glad you told me, though. Now, there are no secrets between us. That’s best, don’t you think?”

“I was underage.”

Titus grimaced, exhaling long and loud. He rolled onto his back, palming his eyes. “Jesus Christ.”

“I can leave if you want.”

“No. NO.” He turned back. “That’s not what I meant at all. I just don’t see how–how is that legal?”

“It’s not. There was a lot of shady stuff happening, remember? I told you. It’s why I’m here–in the States—why I want to get my mother here, too.”

“Are you on the run from this man? This–”

“Escobar was his name. Hugo Escobar. Here? No. If I was still in Chiquilá, maybe. I came here to make a better life, to get away from the sex and the drugs.”

“He had you on drugs, too?”

Pedro shook his head. “No. Not me. The sex didn’t bother me so much, being gay. But some of the other boys were straight. He would give them stuff to make them more submissive.”

“You know, the more you tell me, the more I want to catch a flight to Mexico and murder this man myself.”

“Hold me instead. Please?” Pedro turned and Titus complied, spooning him from behind. “It wasn’t that bad, at first. I was a teenager, after all, getting paid to have sex. But when I saw what the drugs were doing to the others, how they were getting addicted...”

“He was turning them into sex slaves.”

“Basically.”

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