Chapter 21

“You know I don’t do that. I’m a Christian.”

“Yeah,” I laughed. “A Christian who just happens to get hard when he looks at eighteen-year-old male twins with swollen wankers.”

We chuckled. Then he pushed three pieces of paper toward of me, the contract between us for the show at the Stolid. “Sign this, this, and this,” he said, tapping each piece of paper with his finger.

“You’re making ten percent, right?”

“Not a dime more.”

“The show is for one day, only two hours long, correct?”

“Incorrect. The show is six hours long, but you’ll be there for two of them, no longer.”

“What is Stolid’s cut?”

“Forty percent, as usual.”

“Couldn’t talk him down?”

He shook his head and said, “I’d hate to ruin our relationship with him. He’s the only thing we have going for us right now besides one contact in New York City.”

I looked over the three pages and signed each of them in turn. “It says the show is on June 14. That’s only three days from now. Can you pull this off with Stolid?”