(You've Got) That Pornstar Flava (2/7)

[amfiguree]

Master Post | Trailer | Reel One | Reel Two | Reel Three | Bonus Features: Movie Commentary | Gag Reel | Behind The Scenes


"Twenty-seven," Chris announces loudly to the empty aisles in the store. That's how many damp patches he's counted on the ceiling. It's one more than the day before, four more than last week, and he's still sprawled out on top of the counter trying to figure out how long it's going to take for their roof to collapse when AJ comes back inside from his cigarette break.

"Hey," Chris says conversationally, without getting up. "Do you think we should get someone to take a look at the roof?"

"Yeah, sure," AJ snorts, as he thumbs through the stack of videos proudly displayed under the 'newly returned' sticker on the far end of the wall. Those videos have been newly returned for about two months now. "It's not like we've got to worry about where that extra expense is coming from. You know, since we've got customers banging our doors down."

Chris rolls his eyes. "For the fifty hundredth time, you are not gonna get fired, dumbass."

"Yeah, thanks, good to know," AJ says. "Since you have it on such good authority."

"You're not getting fired," Chris repeats. The little penis-shaped bell over their door jingles, then, and Chris raises his voice as he adds, "Because the only people who get fired around here are the people who come in late with my coffee."

"Ungrateful little freak," JC says, but he's holding out a tray of coffee when Chris lifts his head to look at him. "You're welcome."

Chris pushes himself up on his elbows with a feral grin, and takes his coffee off JC's hands. He shuts his eyes briefly at the first sip. "Ahh. You know you're the fucking highlight of my week, Chasez."

"Another quiet day, huh?" JC asks.

"What else is new?" AJ grumbles, under his breath. Then, as he accepts his own cup of personalized heaven, he adds, "Thanks."

Chris chooses to ignore that. "Quiet day? Here? Not at all," he tells JC. "No, in fact, we've been beating people off with sticks."

"Kevin came by this morning?" JC interprets.

"Yeeeeep," AJ drawls.

"Reliable as clockwork, that man," Chris adds.

"Well," JC says, as he leans back against the counter beside Chris and nudges Chris' thigh with his own. "It's only half an hour till Howie gets in for his shift."

"Oh," Chris says. "Yeah, no. He's down with the flu or something. I told him not to come in."

"What?" AJ demands, as he sets his caffeine aside. "Kirkpatrick, I've already told you I'm not doing the graveyard shift again! I don't care if she's seventy, if I ever have to sit through another goddamn cat porno with Mrs. Shears, I swear to god I will take her walking stick and beat her with it."

JC ducks his head and coughs.

Chris just folds his arms, unimpressed. "Relax, caveman. I'm just gonna close early. Kevin's already been here today and it's not like we have other customers to worry about."

JC looks up at that with a frown, saying, "Are you even allowed to do that?"

AJ puts his head in his hands. "You fucking tell me again how I'm gonna not get fired."

*

The status quo doesn't change much. The store is just as quiet the next week as it's been the ten or so before that. If this were a movie, Chris thinks, this would be the part they shoot the same scene about fifteen hundred times, with him in different positions each take, and then they'd have to edit all that footage down to a five-second sequence set to really emo (but tasteful) music.

Five seconds. That's how significant this is in the grand scheme of things.

A paper ball bounces off the top of his head, then, and Chris looks up. AJ's sitting at the far end of the store, head tipped back against the wall and his eyes shut. "Think any louder," he says, "and I'm going to fucking sit on you."

Chris raises an eyebrow. "Yeaaaaaaah, McLean. As far as threats go, that's about--" he drops his hand so it's about knee-height, despite the fact that AJ's eyes are still closed. "Yea high on the intimidating list."

AJ doesn't move aside from lifting a hand to flip him off.

"Sorry, AJ," Chris says breezily. "Been there, done that, kinda lost interest in round two."

"You have never been anywhere near this ass," AJ retorts. "And I intend to keep it that way."

"Even if I come bearing handcuffs and a feather boa?" Chris leers.

"You sick, kinky bastard," AJ says, as he sits up a fraction. Then the corner of his mouth quirks. "I approve."

"I never get complaints," Chris snorts, as he turns back to the counter. He's hit in the back of the head by another paper ball a second later, and he rolls his eyes. "What!"

AJ's reply is smug as all hell. "Got you to stop thinking, didn't I?"

Chris stops short, then sighs. Jesus Christ, it's Monday.

He has no idea how he's going to survive the rest of the week.

Things haven't improved two hours later, and Chris almost lets AJ talk him into cutting out of work early. "Come on, Kirkpatrick," AJ wheedles. "It's forty-five minutes, who's gonna know? It's not like we're going to be losing any business here, and if we leave now, we can still make it for Happy Hour at Jim's. Let's start the week off right."

Chris barely manages to make himself say no. Goddammit, AJ can be a hell of a persuasive bastard when he chooses to be.

*

In some kind of sick payback, AJ doesn't even show up for work the next day, fucking prick.

Chris is introduced to boredom on a whole new level, and resorts to calling him on the hour, every hour, threatening castration, a pay cut, and even, in a moment of indescribable desperation, to have him fired, hoping to force him to at least put in an appearance, but AJ never picks up.

*

On Wednesday, Howie shows up for his shift early, before Chris can even begin chewing AJ out for the day before, appearing at the store with a sheepish smile and a shrug. "It gets lonely," he explains, when Chris tries to get him to leave ("You're not going to get paid for extra hours, D."). "If I don't talk to someone besides my girlfriend for a couple of hours this week, I'm going to go stir crazy."

Chris balks at that, and AJ trips over the bunch of blank tapes he's been using to build a mini fortress around the welcome mat. "What!" Chris squawks, finally. "You don't have a girlfriend!"

"Uh," Howie says, giving Chris a strange look. "Yes, I do. We've been engaged for eight months."

There's a beat of silence, during which Chris tries to pick his jaw up off the floor, and then, "You're straight?"

"Uh," Howie repeats, as he looks from Chris to AJ, and back again. "Yes?"

"You never told us that!" AJ notes, indignantly. Chris has to hand it to him: he's doing a respectable job of holding it together.

"You never asked," Howie points out. "What - guys, is this suddenly a problem?"

"What?" Chris laughs, too loud. "What? No." Another pause. "But. Seriously?"

That, at least, provides some measure of entertainment for the rest of their evening together, and when they leave Howie to serve out the rest of his shift alone, Chris shoves his hands in his pockets and says, "Huh."

He and AJ turn back to the store, watching Howie through the large display window in the front. Howie's just getting into his TRANS-PORN uniform: a tight, black "mooby-licious" top, and an apron-like piece over their pants proudly and strategically proclaiming we're BIG on service! (because yeah, sure, they have straight porn, but come on, they know their real clientele). Howie catches them staring, then, and smiles as he waves goodbye.

"Huh," Chris repeats.

AJ shakes his head. "Seriously," he says. "Kevin's going to be devastated."

*

On Thursday, JC's late with Chris' coffee. Again. "Dude," Chris says, when JC finally makes it in. "The point in skinny dipping is to take your clothes off first."

JC's soaked, damp hair falling his eyes and matted on his forehead, the collar of his jacket turned up as high as it can go. "They're having Wet Night across the street," he explains, as he hands their coffee over, then cups both his hands around his own mug. "I got caught in the crossfire."

"They're what?" AJ demands, as he leans over to peer out the window. There's a huge crowd gathered outside the club, each one carrying hoses and buckets full of - what Chris assumes is - water, waiting for their turn to get in on the action. Thank God Lou had the foresight to soundproof the store. ("I got one policy, and one only," he'd said, on Chris' first day, "You wanna see people getting off, you wanna hear people getting off, you come in and you pay for a video.")

A huge banner's been strung up, too, right there in the parking lot. Come Get Wet! it announces, proudly, and Chris snorts. "Huh, yeah. Real subtle. That's classy stuff."

AJ looks away from the window, then gestures pointedly at their uniform. "Hate to break it to you," he says, "But have you looked in the mirror lately?"

"Ha ha," Chris deadpans. "Very cute, McLean."

"You know," JC cuts in, before AJ has a chance to reply. "Maybe we should head over there ourselves."

"What!" Chris says, accusatorily. AJ's perked up from his sentry at the window. "I might have expected this from AJ, but you!"

"Just to scout out the competition, Chris," JC adds, consolingly. He looks around the store, then, mouth quirking wryly. "It's kind of a quiet night anyway."

"You're telling me," AJ mutters.

Chris looks between the both of them, frowning. "I can't believe you're actually thinking about giving your money to those people. What, are we actively trying to run TRANS-PORN out of business now? No."

"Chris--"

"No."

"Oh, for--fine," AJ rolls his eyes. "Killjoy. Do I have your permission to at least watch from the fucking window?"

*

On Friday, Chris is five minutes late for work.

To his surprise, the doors at the store are already open when he gets there, but no one's at the counter. "AJ?" Chris calls, as he drops his set of keys in the empty fishbowl by the register. There's no answer, but Chris can hear the faint strains of music coming from the employee room. He starts in that direction. "Goddammit, you can't just leave the front door unlocked when you're not in the--Jesus, AJ!"

The man in question is lounging in front of the TV set, a stack of porn beside him on the couch and a hand shoved down his pants.

Chris turns right back around so he's facing the wall. "AJ! What the hell?"

"What?" AJ asks, lazily. He doesn't even bother stopping. Chris can see the movement of AJ's arm out of the corner of his eye. "If I'm banned from the nearest strip club, I'm going to find other ways to entertain myself, man."

Chris stands there another second, debating the best course of action.

"Chris," AJ says, and when Chris glances over his shoulder, AJ's tipped his head back on the couch, watching him through dark, heavy-lidded eyes. "Stop acting like you haven't seen it before."

Chris pauses, but then relents and joins AJ on the couch, keeping a respectable distance away. He focuses his eyes on the couple on the TV set.

"It's a two-seater, man," AJ points out. It's altogether too zen for Chris' comfort. "You might as well just cozy up and enjoy this."

"God," Chris snorts. "You're a fucking exhibitionist, you know that?"

"Yep," AJ says absently. "I got nothing to hide."

"Whatever makes you happy," Chris says.

"Bite me," AJ retorts. "Just because you have size issues--"

"Hey!" Chris snaps.

AJ grins, but subsides, sinking further down the couch as he spreads his legs even wider. "Oh, yeah," he moans, after a second, and Chris has to remind himself to keep his eyes on the porn. Not that AJ seems to mind, either way. But no. Chris is not looking.

"What are we watching again?" he asks. Huh. Actually, he doesn't think he's seen this one before.

There's a brief silence, and AJ's voice is a little strangled when he says, "I don't know if you've noticed, but I'm a little preoccupied here."

"Right, yeah." Still not looking. Chris reaches over to grab the title cover on the tiny coffee table in front of him. He's not going to sneak a peak, dammit. He's better than--wait a minute. "Attack of the 50-foot Penis? Dude. Seriously?"

"Hey," AJ says. "Don't judge. I like what I like."

"You work in a porn store," Chris says, as he turns the cover over. "The hell is this?"

"Killing the mood, man. Shut up."

"Seriously," Chris repeats, shaking his head. An elephant suddenly appears onscreen, much to the delight of the frolicking couple. Chris lets out an appalled squawk. "AJ! What the fuck, man?"

"Chris," AJ grunts, obvious strain in his voice. "I'm trying to get off here."

"What? On this shit?" Chris demands. The elephant shifts its weight, positions itself. "Aww, come on!"

"Jesus, Kirkpatrick!" AJ pants. "Get off, or get the fuck out!"

*

After that, it just becomes another one of their sort-of semi-private routines. AJ pretty much holes himself up in the employee room instead of working (although he insists that's arguable since there's no work to be done), and Chris makes loud, unpleasant remarks about AJ's choice of bed partners to the store at large while he wipes down the counters, takes inventory, and double- and triple-checks the customer accounts (still hand written, mind, Chris has a bone to pick with technology).

Inevitably, though, and against his better judgment, Chris finds himself drawn back to AJ's side. They'll curl up on the couch for a couple of hours at a stretch, AJ trying to jerk off for the fifth consecutive time, and Chris pointing out everything that's wrong with the image they're seeing on the TV screen.

As it turns out, AJ's not just into gross porn. He's into the really bad, creepy shit, too, crap that Chris wouldn't pick out even for the customers who deserve it.

Chris shakes his head as he settles into the worn employee couch and reaches for the bowl of popcorn nestled against AJ's side. "You have no fucking standards, McLean."

"Damn right," AJ breathes, hand still jammed down the front of his jeans. "And I'm okay with that."

"Seriously," Chris says. "You need to explain this to me."

"I press play," AJ grinds out, "And then I put my hand down my pants, and my dick kind of likes it. Do you want a fucking diagram?"

"Yes!" The woman onscreen exclaims. "Yes, yes, oh, Jimmy! Ride me like I'm a wild horse that needs to be tamed!"

Chris raises an eyebrow. "Dude."

AJ doesn't even pause. "Yeah, fuck."

Bad-animal-metaphors girl is starting to make actual horse-like noises now, and Chris nearly blows an artery trying not to snort his brain out of his nostrils. He chances a brief glance at AJ, whose eyes are closed, head tipped back. "Seriously?" Chris repeats, rolling his eyes as he tosses another popcorn kernel into his mouth. "I'd rather watch the roof peel off than this shit."

He stays right where he is.

AJ groans, and not in a satisfied way. "Jesus, would you quit with the bitching already?"

"What?" Chris objects. He's still mostly teasing, but honest to god, there are a couple of blindingly obvious flaws in the scene. "Are we even watching the same thing here? I mean, come on! She's neighing! They've actually succeeded in making sex unsexy!"

AJ huffs out a sound caught between exasperation and pain, and he zips his fly up again in a quick, jerky motion, before taking one of the worn cushions and hurling it at Chris. "I fucking loathe you."

Chris' grin shows off all his teeth.

Anyway, that's pretty much the only green light he needs to keep on going with the teasing - not that he needs any encouragement at all, really - only, with his short attention span, pretty soon he starts pointing out actual problems with the porn. The lighting, the script, the piss-poor cinematography. And once Chris boards that train, it's damn near impossible to get off.

"Look," he tells AJ one day. He's practically in AJ's lap, ignoring the fact that AJ's half naked, legs spread in a wide vee, jeans pooled around his ankles. (They gave up any pretense of modesty days ago.) "Just look at the color of that nipple and tell me that's not fucked up."

AJ's slouched against the couch, still working himself with his hand, but the muscle in his jaw tics every time Chris shifts, and he clearly isn't getting anywhere. Chris turns his attention back to the TV screen, and shakes his fist at it. "Goddammit, man! Being in the porn industry doesn't give us the right to be sub-par!"

AJ's jaw tightens.

The penis bell jangles before he can reply, though, and JC's head appears around the door a couple of seconds later. "Hey guys, shouldn't one of you be out there? The door's wide open and people could--holy crap."

"Uh." It takes a moment for Chris to realize how bad this must look. He leans back on his ankles, putting an extra inch of space between himself and AJ. "Hey, C."

After a second, JC seems to find his voice. "Hey," he says. It comes out sounding strangled. "Uh. What the hell are you doing?"

"Trying to jerk off," AJ replies, just as Chris chimes in with, "Watching AJ's lame idea of good porn."

"Okay, you know what?" AJ barks. "That's it. You're officially pissing me off!"

JC's expression melts into concern. "AJ--"

Chris raises an eyebrow. "Hey, I'm not going to be the fall guy for your shitty taste in porno."

AJ scowls darkly. "One of these days, I am going to kick your freakishly short little ass, I swear to god."

Chris' jaw drops.

AJ narrows his eyebrows.

Chris glares right back.

"Guys," JC soothes. "Can't we just--"

"Hey JC," Chris says conversationally, without breaking eye contact. "Did you know AJ watches elephant porn?"

"A truce would be--" JC stops short, digesting the information. Then he screws his face up and shakes his head at AJ. "Okay, I get the wanting to experiment thing? And I mean, I've tried a lot of things myself. But seriously, cat, that shit's just nasty."

*

So Chris spends another week basking in the awesomeness that comes from working AJ up - or preventing him from it - before he locks himself out of the store for the first time in two months. He stares forlornly through the store window at his keys, lying at the bottom of the fishbowl, then drops his forehead against the glass doors with a sigh. "Dammit."

AJ is going to be so fucking gleeful.

It's hopeless and Chris knows it, because the man could sleep through his house crumbling around him, and the hurricane that brought that on in the first place, but he tries Howie's cell first anyway. There's no answer. Clearly, Chris decides, AJ has a little something going on with the fates on the side. He swears under his breath, but, after pacing up and down the parking lot a couple of times, punches AJ's number in. The phone rings twice before AJ picks up. "Talk to me."

"So," Chris says. "I, uh. Might have sort of, accidentally, maybe kind of locked myself out of the store again."

"You've gotta be fucking kidding me." Even over the phone, Chris can hear AJ rolling his eyes. "Where the hell is Pearlman?"

"Same place he always is," Chris grumbles, kicking half-heartedly at the front doors. "Not fucking here. You think I wanted to call you?" He hesitates, then bends down to wipe away the footprint with his shirt sleeve. "He locked himself in his office all morning yapping at some asshole on the line, and then just disappeared. The man could be a goddamn magician."

There's a pause. "Chris, are you making those stupid faces against the window again? You know your slobber's a bitch to clean off."

"Shut up," Chris says, but he peels his nose away from the glass anyway and licks his lips experimentally, feeling marginally less pissed off. "How long are you gonna take to get down here?"

"Jesus Christ," AJ grumbles. "I'm not paid to be your bellboy, Kirkpatrick."

"You can't leave me stranded!" Chris protests. "What if there's a customer?"

AJ snorts so hard Chris hopes he blows a blood vessel. "Uh huh. Nice try."

"What am I supposed to do, man? Howie's not gonna be here for, like, six hours!"

"Yeah, well, I'm not supposed to be there at all."

Chris balks. "Dude."

"Dude," AJ mimics. "You're an hour away."

"You know, if you called me asking for a favor like this, I'd already be in my car."

"Sure," AJ snorts. "Headed the other direction." And yeah, okay, Chris kind of has to give him that one. "Plus, I don't constantly lock myself out of the office." ...Okay, that one too. "And I don't get paid a bonus that's a couple hundred bucks more than what everyone else gets."

"Okay, first of all, you don't get groped for it," Chris gripes. "And secondly, how is that even relevant here?"

"It's not," AJ concedes. "But I was making a point."

"The point is, what's it going to take to convince you to get your butt down here?"

AJ doesn't reply for a long while, long enough that Chris poises himself to repeat the question. Then, "No more judging my porn."

Chris actually laughs. "What!"

"You heard me."

"Yeah, I know, but what?"

"Chris."

Chris frowns. "How am I supposed to not judge when you get off on porn videos where the lighting is so bad that I'm watching the rash on Rick's ass instead of Jackson's motherfucking penis?"

Silence crackles over the line for a moment, and then, "...Good talking, man. I'll see you tomo--"

"What? AJ! Wait--"

"Like I said," AJ interrupts, calmly. "No judging."

Chris kind of wants to hit him. "Okay, fine!" he growls finally, glaring at his reflection in the store window. "No judging. Fuck."

"I'll be there in forty-five," AJ singsongs. There's no missing the triumph in his voice.

It takes Chris gnashing his teeth together, hard enough to get a migraine, to stop the caustic reply that's ready to slip out of his mouth.

*

AJ gets there in thirty, probably breaking every traffic law in the process, and Chris is so happy to see him that he considers, however briefly, actually making good on his promise to stop judging the weird porn. Then AJ cuffs him upside the head, and the gratitude disappears.

"Thanks," Chris mutters darkly, as AJ pushes the doors to the store open. Grudgingly, he adds, "you wanna get a coffee for the ride back?"

"Nah." AJ waves him off, and heads down towards the back of the shop. "I'm already here. Might as well stay. Wouldn't want to leave you lonely."

Chris rolls his eyes, but goes to the back office to get his uniform - there's no way he's wearing that shit out on the streets. It isn't there, and it isn't on the front counter, either. "Hey," he says, as he walks into the employee room. "Did you see my--oh, man. 'Dude, Where's My Dildo?' again? Really?"

AJ doesn't even turn around to look at him. "Shut up, asshole. No judging."

Chris snorts as he drops into the seat beside AJ. "Yeah, well. No accounting for taste, I guess."

AJ throws his hands up, then, and Chris realizes his pants are still done up. "Okay, you know what? The fact that you're supposed to shut the fuck up about my porno aside, I'll bite. What the hell is so bad about this movie? It's porn, not brain science."

"What's so bad about this movie?" Chris parrots, eyes wide. "Uh, what isn't ? The lighting is shit, the angle sucks, I've only heard the dialog used in about fifteen hundred other pornos, and--" He points an accusing finger at the screen. "She's faking her damn orgasm!"

"Oh-kay," AJ says. "I'm not even going to ask how you know that."

Chris barrels on like AJ hasn't even spoken. "There's nothing new here, nothing creative. What's the point in having that kind of market and then letting it go to waste?"

AJ's mouth is twitching. Bastard. "You know, the amount of thought you've put into this? Pretty damn unhealthy."

"Fuck off," Chris gripes. "You work in a porn store long enough, you pick up a couple of things. Then you figure out what all the tricks are." He winces at the next odd jump cut. "See that? Jesus, I could do better than that."

"Okay." AJ reclines in his seat. "So do it, smartass."

Chris freezes in the midst of dissecting the scene. "Uh. What?"

"Do it," AJ repeats, smugly. "Film your own porno. I'll fucking eat this VHS tape if you can get three goddamn customers to give you a recommendation."

(Every week they do this thing where they tabulate the RPP - the recommendations per porno - and the tape with the highest rating is put on display during peak hours - or it used to be, back in the day when they had peak hours. If there was a tie, they'd put the winners to an in-house vote; it's a democracy, so they have to do that kind of thing. Chris' vote counts twice, because seniority works that way too, and the rest agree that anyone who can stomach working with Lou that long is a hell of a scary motherfucker.)

"Yeah, right," Chris snorts. "We don't have three customers."

"So?" AJ demands. "Go out and find them."

"Where? The parking lot across the street?"

"That would be a start," AJ shrugs. "They're already here for the right reasons."

"Huh," Chris says, thoughtfully. "Maybe that would even convince them to-" He stops abruptly. "Why the hell am I talking about this like it's worth thinking about?"

"Because there's fuck all to do here," AJ points out. "And if you say yes, I might actually stop watching this shit for two days and we could even drum up some business."

Chris pauses, calculating. "I hate it when you make sense."

"What, so you'll talk the talk, but when it comes down to it--"

"Shut up," Chris snaps. "Fine. I'll do it."

AJ eyes him half-amused, half-skeptical. "Fine."

"Double fine."

AJ raises an eyebrow at that, then rolls his eyes. "You're a fucking pain in my ass," he says, and punches Chris in the shoulder, hard, before going back to his porn.

Chris stares at the side of AJ's head for a moment. "So," he says eventually. "How would this work, exactly?"

*

Years later, this is the part where Chris, looking altogether too smug for anyone's taste, likes to say, "and that, ladies and gentlemen," even though there are rarely any of either in his mostly teen-aged crowds, "is how it all began."

*

It turns out that there's a bunch of equipment lying around the store that no one ever uses. "Just your basic, run-of-the-mill stuff," AJ says, as they wade through cables and dusty blocks of batteries. "But you've got pretty much everything you need for a basic shoot. Plus the empty parking lot out front."

"Yeah," Chris snorts, as he inspects one of the three boom mics lying on the ground. "Because car sex isn't the biggest fucking cliché in the industry." He shakes his head. "Who the hell am I even going to cast in this thing?"

AJ grins at the question. "Funny you should ask," he says, promptly producing a list of contacts desperate enough to do it for a quick buck, and damn if Chris isn't just a little bit impressed. AJ smirks at the expression on his face. "Lucky for you, I'm a resourceful little fucker."

"Yeah, yeah, "Chris says, dismissively, and scans quickly through AJ's catalog. He balks at the amount it'll come up to. "Quick buck--this is fucking robbery! AJ, do I look like I have that kind of money?"

AJ cocks his head.

Chris frowns, and then snorts in disbelief when he realizes what AJ's asking him to do. "Oh, no," he says. "Hell no. I am not spending my rainy day money on a dare."

"Chris," AJ huffs, clearly frustrated. "This could be the dare that changes your life."

"Somehow I doubt that," Chris snorts.

"Should've thought about that before you took the dare, fuckwit. Suck it up."

Chris thinks about it now. "You know," he says, finally, thoughtfully. "If you're so fucking invested in this, you should be in it."

"Right, yeah," AJ smirks. "Great idea. I'll start listing the then thousand ways I could mess this shit up for you."

"You do that," Chris agrees. "Just know that if you suck? I'll have it on tape. And if you don't? I have the editor."

AJ stares hard at Chris for a long moment. Then he makes a noise caught between irritation and disbelief, and shakes his head. "Fine," he says. "Fine, I'll fucking do it, asshole. But I better see actual health insurance included in my fucking contract when this is over. Now pick another name."

Chris grins smugly as he shoves the name-list into his pocket. "Don't need it."

AJ looks like he just swallowed a lemon. "What?"

Chris laughs so hard he nearly chokes on his words. "Yeah, like I'm touching your ass with a ten-foot pole."

AJ glares, but then comprehension dawns and he rolls his eyes. "Jesus," he says. "You fucking cheapskate."

"Yeah, yeah," Chris says, breezily. "Just wait till I get C to say yes."

*

"Yeah," JC laughs, when Chris asks. "Yeah, okay. Sure. Sounds like fun."

"Didn't I say he'd be up for it?" Chris crows at AJ, with a grin.

"Yeah, yeah," AJ grumbles. "You're a fucking mind-reader. I get it. C, you wanna start working out a schedule to--what?"

JC's staring at them both like they're the people he lives two doors down from. It's not as easy as it sounds; the Welshes pretty much bewilder him on a daily basis. "Uh," he says. "Wait, you mean you're - this is -- are you seriously asking?"

Chris isn't grinning anymore. "I'm taking out my fucking rainy day money for this," he snipes. "Yes, I'm seriously asking."

"Uh," JC says. He's looking more alarmed by the second. "Okay, seriously? No."

"Huh." AJ folds his arms. "And you didn't even hesitate. Should I be offended?"

"Sorry, cat," JC says quickly, with a placating smile. Then he shakes his head. "But seriously. No."

"What?" Chris protests. "C!"

AJ throws his hands up and stalks away with a growl. "Fucking typical."

"Dude," Chris hisses, once AJ's out of earshot. "It's not like you've never done this before."

JC blushes hotly, and ducks his head. "Shut up," he hisses back. "I should never have told you about that."

Chris snorts, momentarily distracted. "We're like Thelma and Louise, man. You tell me everything."

"I'm not a gossiping girl," JC insists. "And I was totally plastered, which, thanks, by the way." He pauses for a second, then adds, "Asshole."

"Aww, come on, I'll do it again," Chris offers. "You're a cheap drunk, and I hear AJ's a good lay."

"Wait, I just told you no," JC says. Then, "Where'd you hear that?"

"Guy who lives in the apartment above mine," Chris says sagely, then nods in AJ's direction. "Man gets around."

JC looks like he's about to laugh, but then his expression closes off. "Okay, so not the point here."

"You asked!"

"So I'm un-asking!" JC huffs. "Just - I'm not gonna do it."

"But--"

"Chris!" JC interrupts. "It's weird, okay?"

"Weird?" Chris repeats. "Come on, it's AJ. It's not like the man has any concept of shame--"

"If you two lovebirds are done yapping about me behind my back," AJ interrupts, then. When Chris turns around, AJ's standing right there, clearly pleased with himself. "There may be someone else. This guy I used to work with."

"This guy got a name?" JC asks, obviously relieved. Chris shoots him a dirty look, which he gladly returns.

"Nick," AJ says, ignoring their exchange. His smug grin stretches. "Nick Carter. I can maybe talk him into doing it for a free meal."

"What, like lunch?" Chris asks, doubtfully. "'Cause I don't know, man. I'm a pretty cheap guy, but even I wouldn't do this for a lettuce sandwich."

AJ snorts. "Yeah, 'cause when I said 'free meal', that's exactly what I had in mind."

"A lettuce sandwich might not do it, but what about a freebie from Starbucks?" JC offers. Chris perks up at that, feeling a little more hopeful.

"Hmm," AJ says, actually looking thoughtful now. "Bagels?"

"It's a staple food," JC replies, nodding gravely.

"With extra cream cheese?" AJ asks.

"Like I serve my customers anything else," JC sniffs.

"And the most sinful mocha latte he's had in his life?"

JC grins. "That I can definitely do."

"And you can toss, like, a walnut or two into the coffee blender to go with that, right?"

JC opens his mouth to answer, then snaps it shut with an uncertain frown. Chris glances at AJ, but AJ just waves him off and says, "Don't ask. I'm not drunk enough to tell this story."

Chris shares a look with JC.

"So?" AJ demands.

JC's mouth quirks at that, and he shrugs in an offhand what-are-you-going-to-do? gesture of solidarity.

Chris sighs, then gives AJ a sidelong glance. "So I guess we've got ourselves a new leading man."

*

Later, Chris is actually embarrassed by his initial skepticism. He never lets on, but for all of AJ's crappy choices in porno, he has impeccable taste when it comes to the real thing. Nick Carter is everything AJ promised: big, blonde and fucking breathtaking.

He towers above Chris and AJ both when he's introduced, hair flopping into his wide, blue eyes as he offers them a sweet, easy smile. "Jesus," Chris says, when he takes Nick's hand. Nick's fingers all but swallow his own.

"Not so far off," Nick replies wickedly, clearly amused. Just like that, he's showing off the dirtiest smirk Chris has ever seen.

Chris twitches. Then he looks at AJ. "How did you swing this?" he demands.

AJ's eyes flick upwards, then, and his mouth curves at whatever expression it is he sees on Nick's face. It's almost predatory.

Chris slaps a palm over AJ's mouth before there's any reply, ignoring the muffled protest and Nick's amused grin. "You know what? Don't tell me," he orders. "Save that for the camera."

It's probably best he doesn't find out, anyway.

"So," Nick says, as he slides his hands into his pockets and cocks his head. "When do we start?"

*

Things fall into place a lot quicker than Chris expects them to. The script, once he gets started on it, pretty much writes itself, and all he has to do to convince Joey to help him out is show him the finished product. It's not like it's even remotely difficult to talk him into reading the draft; they were a fucking phenomenal team back in college.

"Dude," Joey says, an hour after Chris emails him the document. "This is comedy gold."

Joey started work at Warner Brothers years ago as a fresh-faced graduate, got himself a job as a small time editor, and he's happy enough with where he is in life that he doesn't push for more, which Chris is convinced is the only reason he doesn't have a position higher up the corporate ladder.

What he does have, though, are broad, sturdy hands and a killer eye for cinematography, so Chris doesn't protest when Joey completely bypasses him in favor of the camera when he comes over for their next biweekly alcohol-embracing get-together.

"I can start working on a storyboard tonight," Joey says, as he examines the equipment. Then he looks up at Chris. "Unless you mind?"

It's Joey's way of saying he's on board, and Chris very nearly grins. "Please," he snorts. "Like I'd accept the work of the second-rate film student."

Joey rolls his eyes, but he's grinning. "C's going to work on it with me, asshole. And just so we're clear? He only topped that pre-production course by two points. Total fluke."

Chris finds himself grinning back as he cuffs Joey upside the head. "Whatever, genius."

"Yeah, yeah, Kirkpatrick," Joey laughs. "Keep talking like you weren't up there with us."

*

It's a mad scramble and a half, but they're ready for the shoot once the weekend rolls around. Chris isn't a big believer in wasting time, so Nick meets Joey and JC just before they set off, and gets a hasty round of introductions during the hike out to their location.

It's a huge, empty field, tucked away in a corner near JC's place that he claims he found by accident. "You seriously lucked out," Joey says, on a laugh, twenty minutes into their trek. "C, this place is like an hour's drive from the city."

"Oh," JC replies. "Yeah. It's, um. It's on the way to work."

AJ coughs at that, and when Chris turns around he's watching JC with an odd, amused look on his face. "Starbucks is across town," AJ says helpfully.

"Shut up," JC mutters, ducking his head. And then AJ starts laughing in earnest as he pulls JC aside. For a second, their heads are bent close together, so close that Chris can't overhear the conversation, even when he strains. Even then, he can't miss the way JC's ears start to burn, and AJ's grinning as he straightens. JC's still flushed, but he's laughing too, a little awkwardly, and he punches AJ's shoulder before they rejoin the group.

"I thought I was the one who got to hear all your dirty little secrets," Chris says, slinging a friendly arm around JC's neck when JC finally catches up to him.

"What?"

"Oh, don't even, Chasez," Chris grins. "I saw that little high school exchange."

"What?" JC laughs. "I - with AJ?" His mouth curls a little more, and he slants a look at Chris. "You jealous of my new BFF?"

"I'm totes jealous," Chris agrees, as he nudges JC in the side. "We're all twelve-year-old girls here."

JC rolls his eyes, but he's smiling, and the attempt he makes to resist the fistful of grass Chris puts down his shirt two seconds later is weak at best.

"Get a room already!" AJ shouts, and JC grins.

*

They've been walking forever when AJ pipes up again. "Okay," he says, dragging the back of his arm across his forehead. "If we don't get there in five seconds, you're going to get a fucking strip show, I swear to God--"

"Right there," JC interrupts, pointing at the open space just up ahead.

"Damn," Nick says, with an easy grin, and AJ actually laughs.

"Gonna make me blush, Carter," he purrs, without so much as a pause.

The look Nick flashes AJ is probably illegal in forty states. "Not the only thing I'm gonna do."

Joey actually snorts at that, and Chris' save it for the camera dies on his lips. They're fascinating.

"We're here," JC announces, and Chris barely tears his eyes away from where Nick's hooking a finger over the waistband of AJ's jeans in time to keep from walking right into JC's back.

Joey whistles, low. He sets the equipment down, then takes a good, long, cursory look at their surroundings. "This is a sweet set-up, man," he says, over his shoulder. "You got all your paperwork cleared?"

Chris pauses. "Uh."

"Yeah," JC cuts in, and Chris turns in surprise. "Yeah, uh - the owners got back to us a couple of days ago. We have a go."

Chris can actually feel his eyes go wide. "Dude," he says, as Joey flashes them a thumbs-up and shifts his focus back to hooking the mic up to the camera. "Dude."

JC ducks his head with a dismissive shrug, trying to laugh it off, but Chris doesn't miss the blush working its way up his neck. He grins, and is just about to say, you're fucking adorable, Chasez. What the hell would I do without you? when AJ calls, "Kirkpatrick," from halfway across the field. When Chris looks over, the boom mic's balanced strategically on top of one of the lower branches of a nearby tree, Nick's already completely naked, and AJ's halfway there, jacket shucked alongside Nick's in a small pile at his feet. "Are we gonna do this or what?"

"Shut up and let me work!" he shouts back. "And keep your clothes on! We're saving the strip tease for the camera!" He glances over at Joey. "Hey--"

"Here," Joey says, handing him the headphones. "We're all hooked up." There's a quiet whine of feedback, and then--

"--still too fucking impatient, you know?" Chris hears Nick say, clearly amused.

"That's AJ in a nutshell," he shouts over to them, grinning when AJ flips him off. He looks back at Joey, who's setting up their tiny tripod. "Mic's working. Volume's good. We good to go?"

"Lighting's a little off. Give me one more sec..." Joey adjusts the camera a little more and fiddles with a couple of buttons before giving Chris a nod. "Yeah, we're good."

"Okay, people!" Chris says, voice raised. His stomach does a strange, little flip, and his pulse is fluttering under his skin. "This is our first scene, and it's a big one. Let's make it good!"

AJ looks up at the mic. "Hey, Chris," he says, casually. "If you make this look like we're lying in a field of fucking pansies, I'm going to kick your ass."

Joey cracks up so hard that the tripod topples, nearly taking the camera with it, and Chris sighs.

"So," JC says, lowering his clipboard with a resigned smile. "Should I get started putting up that tent?"

*

As it turns out, JC doesn't have to. Because AJ and Nick really know what they're doing. Like, really. They nail it their first take, and their second; they're still going strong on take five, and Chris nearly forgets to call, "cut!" on take seven.

"Did that read on camera?" AJ asks, and Chris almost jumps in his seat. Fuck.

"I think I underestimated the talent," he says weakly, to no one in particular. JC gives him a sympathetic pat on the shoulder.

"I could do it again," Nick offers. Beside him, AJ shrugs casually. "If you need a different angle or whatever."

"Yeah," Chris says, pitched to carry, but his voice comes out more like a rasp, and he coughs. "Yeah, one more take would be a good idea."

Joey shoots him a look, at that. "Not a word," Chris warns, without looking up, watching AJ tug his jeans up again in the viewfinder. "It's Film Making 101. There's no such thing as too many takes."

JC hides his grin in his clipboard as Joey snorts and loads a fresh tape into the camera.

*

It takes a week and a half of editing - which would have emptied Chris' bank account and cost Joey his job if anyone at Warner had found out - but when it's done Joey says, "fucking porno masterpiece, okay?" with JC beaming beside him, and they call everyone down to Joey's apartment for the unofficial premiere, crowding on his couch with popcorn and beer.

The field looks fucking awesome on screen, like it stretches on forever. Nick weaves a path through it as he walks, stopping short when he sees AJ in the shade of a lone tree. His mouth curves as he looks AJ over, the heat of it a slow, scorching burn.

AJ catches the look as he glances up. He cocks his head, studying Nick with building interest. "Need something?"

"Directions," Nick nods. His grin stretches into a leer. "Is this Heaven?"

To his credit, AJ doesn't laugh. "It's Iowa," he says, with a grin, body language going liquid loose.

Nick leans in. It's like the air crackles. "Close enough."

Then he's crushing his mouth against AJ's, one big hand anchored in AJ's hair, the other already working on AJ's jeans. AJ's kissing Nick back, hard and hungry, hands fisted in Nick's shirt, and then he yanks, hard, and the shirt comes apart in his grip.

("Holy crap," Howie breathes. "How many shirts--"

"One," Chris grins, the triumph in his voice clear as day. "Press studs."

"Fucking uncomfortable," Nick adds.)

They stumble a little, still kissing, and when Nick overbalances they both go down. They don't even pause as they hit the ground. It takes all of two seconds for AJ to get Nick's jeans off, and Nick makes the most sinful sounds as AJ goes down on him.

He comes apart under AJ's touch, almost as easily as his shirt, his hair mussed, back arched, lips pressed against the inside of AJ's wrist. AJ's smirking when he surfaces, pupils dark and dilated. He touches his mouth, which is bruised and spit-shiny, and grins again when Nick shudders.

Nick growls, fingers twisting in the lapels of AJ's jacket before he jerks AJ down for another kiss. Then he flips them both over, mouthing, "my turn," into the hollow of AJ's throat. He works AJ's jeans off, fingers deft and sure, before hooking AJ's legs, slow and deliberate, onto his shoulders. He's huge like this, and AJ looks up at him with a heated smile, eyes almost glazed over, spread and relaxed and so fucking ready.

It's like the world goes still when Nick slams into him. It's not gentle, not controlled, not about anything but need and want and now, do it right fucking now. AJ moans, long and breathless, and Nick keeps going, once, twice, and one of AJ's hands drops into the dirt, claws five long lines into it as his head tips back.

One of AJ's legs slips down, curls around Nick's side and wrenches him even closer. Nick makes a quiet, appreciative noise, before taking AJ's free hand, maneuvering it. "Wanna watch you get yourself off," he whispers, right in AJ's ear, and AJ's eyes roll back in his head as he curls his fingers, works himself once, twice, again.

"Yeah," Nick pants. "Yeah, just like that, Jesus--" He closes a fist around AJ's as he pushes into him again, and AJ's back comes right off the ground, his toes fucking curled and his teeth grit, pushing up into Nick, who swears and pushes back, their limbs a messy, naked tangle.

Nick's face comes onscreen, then slips into a soft, hazy focus, just before everything fades into white. The music swells and the credits start rolling.

The room is dead silent.

Chris can barely keep from bouncing his thigh.

And then AJ lets out a breath. "Fuck."

Howie blinks, and Nick grins. "Already covered that. What was it, like, fifty-three takes?"

"Fuck," AJ repeats.

"Stop thinking about switching career paths," JC chides, smacking the back of AJ's head.

"I'd be an awesome porn star," AJ says. No one points out how breathless he sounds.

Instead, Joey says, "Probably true. Man, I've never seen a jaw line that looks that awesome up close." Nick looks at him, eyebrow quirked. "What?"

"Really," AJ says flatly. "My jaw line. That's what you're looking at?"

JC makes an appreciative noise that's still somehow soothing.

"Hey," Joey says. "Sober here."

"Guys," Howie echoes. "Straight here."

AJ looks from one of them to the other, then shakes his head in disappointment. "Un-fucking-believable. My body is totally wasted on you."

Chris just watches them, and grins.

*

Obviously, they don't have a marketing budget, so to get the word out, Nick posts it on youtube as soon as Joey converts the footage - just a snippet, of course - and they get fifteen thousand hits their first day alone. That's on top of an offer for international distribution (which Chris makes them all ignore, because that means going through Lou, and that's never been an option).

JC helps where he can, telling all his potentially interested customers at work about this great new porno he saw, and how they should all go check it out.

Business actually picks up a little bit after that, some from their pool of old clientele, but mostly from new customers coming in because of the online buzz, and AJ becomes something of a D-List Celebrity at the store. Eventually, enough people stop by that Chris can revive the RPP system, and Field of Sex is their recommended film of the week three times in a row. Chris doesn't even need to veto.

AJ doesn't eat the VHS tape, but it's a damn close call.

*

So it only makes sense, a month after Field of Sex is released, for AJ to hop onto the counter top ten minutes before they open and announce, "We should make another one."

"AJ," Chris sighs. "We've been through this. We don't have time for paper jewelry when there are customers in the store."

"Not the earrings," AJ clarifies. "The porn. Look at us. Business is back, we're getting foot traffic, people are buzzing, everyone's asking about a sequel."

"No sequel," Chris snaps, on autopilot, without even looking up from his inventory sheet. "Someone needs to explain the concept of quality control to you."

AJ rolls his eyes. "Fine," he says. "Fine, no sequels. What do you want to do?"

Chris does lift his head, at that. "What do I want to do?" he repeats. "What, that's it? Compliance? No argument? No big fancy theatrics?"

"Well, if you're complaining..."

"Shut up," Chris grins. "I'll think about it."

*

As if to deter him, Lou calls Chris into his office the very next day. It's fucking ridiculous, but Chris' palms are sweaty when he goes in. He knows, Chris thinks. He fucking knows; they're fucked, and he's going to get AJ fired after all--

"Nice work, Kirkpatrick," Lou grunts, and Chris pauses.

"Sir?"

"We finally turned a fucking profit this month," Lou says, as he snaps the accounts book shut. Chris barely even tenses when Lou comes around his desk to cop a feel. "I don't know what you've been doing with that ass, but it's working."

"Thank you, sir," Chris replies, ducking his head as he grins at his shoes.

AJ's sitting on the counter top, face pinched, when Chris comes out of the office. He only relaxes when he see the smirk on Chris' face. "This is so fucking on," Chris murmurs, as he yanks AJ off the counter by his apron. "All I need to do is figure out what to do."

"Any chance we'll get to use elephants?" AJ suggests.

Chris pauses mid-step. "Oh my god," he chokes out. "It's going to take burning my fucking eyeballs to get that image out of my head."

*

Chris is an immovable force on the animal issue, so they end up compromising and doing car porn instead. "Only," Chris explains, "With a twist. Because it's going to be vintage, and we're going to do it Titanic-style."

AJ raises an eyebrow. "I'm not going to play Rose."

Nick just grins.

Howie laughs when he reads the script, and he hooks them up with Vince, a friend of a friend who happens to sell vintage cars. He doesn't have the Renault 35CV, but he has something else pretty damn close, and he agrees to loan it to them completely free of charge, as long as they advertise him. He's exactly the kind of guy Chris would cast as the harmless villain everyone loves to love, sort of like the monkey in the Powerpuff Girls.

"Product placement," Vince says, with a loud, brash chortle. "I have fucking wet dreams about your kind of clientele, man."

At that, AJ takes a careful step back from the counter.

"They're perfect," he continues. "No sex, no kids, no family, fucking nothing in their lives to spend their cash on but my cars. Best fucking way to reach out to them, and I don't have any competition."

Chris has to admit he has a point.

"Okay," he says. "You've got yourself a deal."

*

It's totally worth selling out the integrity of the film for, Chris decides in the end, because the car reads amazing on camera. "Places, everyone!" he bellows. "And you better get this right or you're both gonna be overshadowed by a fucking car!"

"Sound," JC says, as he flashes Chris a thumbs-up.

"Camera rolling," Joey echoes.

"Action!" Chris calls, barely suppressing a smile. He could do this a thousand fucking times and he'd still feel like this, like his stomach's in knots and his heart is about to beat out of his chest.

Then AJ walks into frame, and Chris turns his focus back to making the scene perfect.

*

AJ gets to sit up front. "Where to, sir?" he asks, with a sly grin.

Nick's sprawled out in the back, legs spread and a careless smirk on his face. "To the stars," he says, like it isn't the cheesiest fucking thing Chris has made him say all month. AJ's grin widens, at that, and then Nick's leaning forward, wrapping his arms around AJ's neck and dragging him into the back of the car.

They end up on the floor, AJ's hands braced on either side of Nick's head. "Nervous?" he murmurs.

Nick just laughs. "Shut the fuck up," he says, before he shoves a hand down AJ's pants.

Joey tracks left with the camera, and then they get the famous hand shot.

"And cut!" Chris calls.

AJ sits up almost immediately, one hand pressed gingerly to his side. He lets out a low hiss. "That hurt like a mother."

"Suck it up," Chris tells him. "You still have two hours on your shift at TRANS-PORN after this, and I'm due back in four hours."

AJ groans, and flops back against Nick, who's sitting up behind him. "This is fucking insane."

*

It turns out that AJ's ribs are bruised worse than he thought. "I'm gonna have to sit the next one out," he tells Chris, apologetically.

"Oh, don't even," Chris snaps, and AJ has to grin.

"Okay, yeah, I'm pretty fucking thrilled that I won't be doing the Lord of the Rings role-playing shit, I'm not gonna lie."

Chris groans and drops his head in his hands. "Do you have any idea how hard it's going to be to make Nick look like a fucking Hobbit?"

*

Nick's partner, Wade, is just as tall as he is, which is plenty tall, and Chris spends half a morning trying to figure out how many angles they can get without giving away the fact that his on-screen hobbits are, in fact, a lot more than three feet high.

To their credit, Nick and Wade take the entire situation in their stride, even when Chris puts them both in brown, curly-haired wigs, and a strange pair of pants made out of leaves and not much else.

"Oh Pip," Nick sighs, as he strokes an errant leaf out of Wade's hair.

"Oh, Merry," Wade sighs back.

"I'm so glad Gandalf showed me that book about this," Nick says. His voice is starting to go dangerously high. He shifts a little closer. "About, you know. Sex. And Boromir's lessons in the cave were really useful."

Nick pushes himself up on an elbow as Wade grins. "Oh," Wade says. "Is that what those were? I thought he was teaching us Human for hello!"

"Cut!" Chris snaps, his voice shaky with laughter.

Nick flops onto his back with a grateful groan. "Thank fucking god I'm leaving town this weekend."

*

"You have got to be fucking kidding me," AJ moans, dropping his forehead against the counter with a loud thunk. "You can't make a guy come a thousand fucking times in four hours and then put him on a fucking second shift."

"Look," Chris mutters, as he ushers the next customer out of the store, gritting his teeth as he smiles. "We've all had a long day - thank you ma'am - but Howie's sick, and we have customers."

That's pretty much the understatement of the century. Business has been booming. They're doing better than even before the strip club, potential clients turning into actual ones, new customers quickly going from their 'temporary' folders to their 'long-term' and 'permanent' ones.

"Could've just told Lou we needed to close early," AJ grumbles, but he rings up the register for the next customer without even looking at the keypad.

"Lou doesn't know," Chris says, matter-of-factly. "But I wasn't going to disappoint all these people -- you have a nice night, sir -- where else are they gonna get their daily fix of porn?"

"Who the fuck cares?" AJ bitches. "What the hell do you think Flesh4Men is for?"

"Chris," JC sighs, as he comes back from where he'd been introducing the foreign porn section to a bunch of overzealous teenagers. "I'm not agreeing with AJ, but--"

"But he's agreeing with AJ," AJ chimes in, almost smugly. He ignores the glare he gets from the customer he's serving in favor of smacking Chris upside the head. Chris elbows him back, but otherwise pays him no attention.

"But we need help," JC continues, as if AJ hadn't spoken. "You're never away from work, Howie's on his own most days now, and he can barely cope. AJ's dead on his feet, Joey isn't even supposed to be moonlighting, and--"

"And you're on the verge of being fired," AJ pipes up.

Chris' head snaps up at that, away from the patron he'd been serving. "You're what?" he demands.

JC waves a hand dismissively. "It's not as bad as it sounds," he says. He only narrowly ducks the newly-returned VHS tape that AJ chucks at him.

"It's bad," AJ says, firmly. "Do you need C to show you his letter of notice or is this actually sinking in?"

Chris balks, turning to JC helplessly. "Jesus, C. You should've said something."

JC shrugs and rubs the back of his neck. "You're finally making your own movies, man. I mean, Starbucks doesn't measure anywhere near that."

Chris releases a loud, heavy breath as he fiddles with the edge of a five-dollar bill. "Okay," he says eventually. "I'll get Lou to put up an ad."