You're My Showstopper

John was making his way out of his room to go to the kitchen when he saw Randy come his way, looking not so pleased. "I-Is something wrong?" He asked nervously.

"Is something wrong? You mean besides the fact that I was in the middle of your paperwork when I got a call from one of my best clients that they wanted you because you were stupid enough to let yourself get seen? Other than that, no, everything is fine and fucking dandy," Randy snapped at him. "I thought I told you to stay in your room between business hours."

John looked down, his heart rate accelerating. "I-I uh... Mike sent me to get a massage. I told him no but he insisted and on my way back they saw me and I... I just... I'm sorry..." He whispered, flinching away, afraid to get hit like Dave would have done.

"If you ever disobey me again, your pretty little ass will be back on the street and I'll replace you. I do not take well to being disrespected. Get back into your room, I'll have Beck take care of you," Randy said before turning on his heel and leaving the house, calling Beck and telling him to keep an eye on John.

John let out a breath and went back into his room, mentally cursing himself. He could care less if he was back out on the streets though. He'd been there most of his life. Wasn't anything new for him.

Beck had kept an eye on John for the next month or so until Randy decided that John could work. He told Beck to make sure that John charged at least $500 per person, and Beck did so.

After John finished his first client, the man left looking like he was on Cloud 9. the man had paid him extra by like... a lot. Like, a few thousand extra. When he handed Randy the money he looked up at him. "That's enough, right?" He asked nervously. Dave had always his John if he didn't make enough.

"Yeah," Randy replied passively as he counted the money. He was surprised at just how much John had gotten.

John nodded and returned to his room, hoping he didn't disappoint Randy. When all the clients left, John headed into the kitchen, not being able to sleep.

Mike was in the kitchen cooking some pasta and chicken. He looked up when John walked in and smiled. "Hey," he greeted.

"Hey." John murmured, sitting at the island and resting his head on the countertop. "Whataya cookin'?" He asked, his nose twitching at the wonderful scent.

"Chicken parm," Mike replied with a smile. "You want some?" he asked. He had made more than enough for at least 5 people.

John nodded eagerly. "Yeah, thank you. I'm pretty hungry." He chuckled before sitting down at the island. "So, how was your night?" He asked, twirling a piece of his hair.

"It was a night, ya know? Another day in the life," Mike replied as he put everything into a baking dish and slid it in the over to finish cooking. He turned to John. "How about you? How was your first client?"

John shrugged. "LIke any other night. I got paid what I usually get. Which hopefully was enough for Randy." He said, pulling out a nail failed and filing his nails, one of his habits.

"How much did you get?" Mike asked, sitting across from him at the island. "Randy's usually pretty understanding when it comes to how much is made. But his clients tend to pay generously. Very, very generously," he added.

"Like, five thousand." John said. "I'm used to making more than that for Dave though." he said, tightening his sweatshirt ver his body, shivering slightly.

Mike stood there. "Five thousand?" he asked incredulously. "That's... Wow," he said. He was used to making good money, but five thousand for one client was never his norm.

John blinked. :Is that big around here or something?" He asked with a light chuckle, playing with a strand of his hair. He was used to making 6 figures a week.

"Uh, yeah. It is," Mike said. He was seriously shocked.

John blinked. "Well I guess I did good then." He chuckled. "But my numbers are usually higher. Dave was all about the green, ya know?" He sighed, getting himself a bottle of water.

"Who isn't? Randy honestly doesn't care about the money. He makes plenty with all his clubs and businesses," Mike said, getting up and pulling the food from the oven. He plated two servings and handed one to John, grabbing two knives and forks and handing him one of each as well. "Eat up," he said and began to eat.

Johnny nodded and thanked him before quietly eating some of his food. He had a lot of weight he needed to game but he simply had a low appetite, plus his line of work was stressful. With Dave, he rarely had time to think of himself and his health.

"Is it good? Cooked enough? Too anything? Not enough anything?" Mike asked, referring to the food. "I usually change things up when I cook. I hate being the same over and over," he said, eating his own. He liked it, but he wasn't always sure what others thought of his food.

Johnny chuckled. "Relax. It's fine, don't fuss about it. I'm not a picky eater either so whatever you make, I'll gratefull eat." He said. He finished and went to wash his plate. "I have a question about Randy... Does he usually... use his own "moneymakers" for his own enjoyment?" He asked.