Mars - Interlude +

INTERLUDE | DEATH

Death is life and life is death. No one has died recently, somehow I'm still alive.

The Voegeli family is crying, mourning the loss of their eldest son. I've taken the path of night, a route that in their minds will lead to death. However, I feel relieved. Every single night on that stage, the Voegeli name is dead to me.

My fans know me as Mars Aphoenix, an androgynous beauty they didn't know they needed. Everyone comes to see me on Sunday night; that's when I'm a star. Alpha men and women, omegas, and beta bodies in between, they come from all parts of Michigan or the rest of the States. The Dante said I'm an attraction, a 'unique situation'. I own every pole from ceiling to floor. I am that bitch.

At home, I take care of my own. I have a daughter, believe it or not. She's only four years old and her name is Eris. The girl looks just like me, but she has her mother's sweetness. Moeko, my ex-girlfriend, calls the money I give her 'dirty' with her face tensed up. Her concern plus the arguments with my father makes feel relieved my mother isn't here. I don't have to see the heartbreak in her eyes.

Why do I do what I do? I'm a simple man, really. I love sex, money, and power. Stripping gives me all of that plus an ego boost. Because I've been dancing for five years, I'm considered an OG. Male dancers have come and gone, but I've remained consistent. That's why The Dante gave me an entire night and not these other loose bitches. I have a legacy at Milky Way Playhouse, though it's possibly coming to an end soon.

No, Pastor Vittar Voegeli has not gotten into my head. I'm twenty-eight now, usually strippers retire at twenty-five. I have other aspirations aside from shaking my ass. Mama blessed me with her voice. She was a professional singer in the choir, even had a record deal at Cherryhill Records. Erena Harper-Voegeli decided to be a mother instead. She gave birth to five boys and became a stay-at-home mom, only hanging out with her friends for wine and being a prominent member at the church. While Dad legally defended criminals, she taught us how not to be one.

I commend her for that. She raised us amazingly and left us an impact to this very day. I want to do the same for Eris. As much as I enjoy stripping, I just can't face my daughter when I have to explain how I make money one day. This is not how I want to inspire her.

However I can't work a normal job. My ego won't let me, I'm too much of a narcissist. Even my scent can be too much for alphas, security is needed. The only regular job I'll do again is serve, and that if I'm at my lowest. I'd like to spend my thirties performing through song. This big ego wants to be the new Lady Gaga for multiple reasons, but I'll settle for Melanie Martinez. Popular in the niche scene, though I'd like at least one song on the radio.

You can say I'm retiring for Eris because I'd do anything for my baby girl. I know a music career is hard to obtain, but I'm hard-headed enough to endure the pain. Maybe in the end, I'll die another failure, and my father will end up right. Or I'll prove everyone wrong.

My journey started on my twenty-eighth birthday: Sunday, March 30th, 2023.

CHAPTER ONE | BIRTHDAY

SUNDAY

An auto-tuned German person sings 'Psycho Teddy' with full distortion. The sleeping omega male is shirtless under a black duvet. His hair is matted from tossing and turning throughout the night. A blue ring wraps around his brown iris, eyes opening to a French Bulldog snoring loudly by his side. The male flips over, dragging his stark black, straight hair across the pillow. Groggily, he sits up, blanket sliding off his bare pecks. His sights fall on the four-year-old in a miniature pink bed before jetting to singing phone.

"Hello?"

"Hello! This is Shannon Strong from Cherryhill Records. Is this Vehren Voegeli?"

My body jolts. I stumbled on my words, "Y-yes, this is Vehren." My eyes lock on my awaking daughter.

"Hi, Vehren! We've reviewed your application and portfolio. We think you'd be a great ghostwriter for our team."

My jaw drops. "Really?"

"Yes. If it's okay with you, we just need you to sign some paperwork before getting you started. Can you come in tomorrow around one or two?"

"That's actually perfect. I'll be there tomorrow."

"Great! See you tomorrow, Vehren. And have a nice birthday!"

"Thank you! Take care, Shannon." I hang up. When I look forwards, my daughter hikes up my bed. She crawls up to me with a moaning frown. I take her small body and bring her to my bare chest. "What is it, Eris?"

Eris rubs her big eyes, green with a brown ring. She stretches her mouth to yawn, answering once she settles on my bicep. "I'm hungry."

"You're hungry?" I held under her thighs and stood up. "I'm hungry, too." She rests her head on my shoulder as I snatch my phone and leave my bedroom. My dog, Lucci, springs out of bed and follows. Down the narrow hall, I pass the bathroom and enter my messy living room scattered with toys, clothes, and junk. To my left, I have to squeeze between the tall, metal chair and half wall to go into my small kitchen. I toss my phone on the counter. At the end, across from the fridge, is the cabinet I open. I point to the pancakes, asking her if that's what she wanted.

Eris shakes her head. "Waffles!" She shouts in my ear.

I close the cabinet, turning three-sixty degrees to pop open the freezer. My free hand snatches the waffle mix and drops the box on the cluttered counter. "Did you have fun with daddy this weekend?"

"Yeah." Eris holds her lip as she stares at the box.

I take her to her highchair in the corner behind the high and round glass table. As I lock her in, I flick on the light and tell her, "Next weekend, we can go to the zoo. See the giraffes and penguins. How does that sound?"

"I wanna see penguins!" Eris dances in her seat.

"I do too, kiddo." I go over to the flat screen, picking the remote off the coffee table.

Lucci hops on the couch, carrying his favorite plastic bone in his mouth. He rests to chew as I turn on Cocomelon, cringing to myself. Returning to the kitchen, I ask "What was your favorite part of the weekend?"

Eris takes a second to answer. "Um..." As she hesitates, I plug in the waffle maker. "I like making dresses."

"You did?" I smile, dropping low to grab the mixing bowl and measuring cup from the bottom cupboard. "You want to sew more often?" I rise up, going above for two large bowls.

"Yes. Our dress is pretty."

"You can wear it when we drop you off at Mommy's." I gather the rest of the ingredients. Flour, salt, baking powder, and sugar, all into the bowl and mixed together with a big spoon. I stir in milk and vanilla, going to another bowl to batter eggs. As I turn to the waffle iron, I glance at Eris, who stared at the pink and yellow colors on the TV screen.

"Okay." She's fixated on the screen while I pour the wet mixture into the dry bowl. After I stir for a few minutes, I pour the batter into the waffle iron and close the top.

"Do you want eggs too? Get some protein in you." I flip around to turn on the stove. Again, I bend to yank a skillet out.

"I want ketchup on my eggs."

I couldn't help but smile. "No problem." My speed slows down. The carton box crumples in my grip, I swap it for my phone. I call the first person I could think of to tell the good news. The line rings for a moment, but soon a female answers, "Hello?"

"Alma, I got the job at Cherryhill Records."

"You got it? Vehren, that's amazing!" My stepmother exclaims. "Does this mean you'll be making money off your songs?"

I take two eggs and crack them into the skillet. "Yeah, but I won't get the credit for it."

"That doesn't seem fair."

I roll my eyes, using a spatula to stir the yolk around. "It's ghostwriting, Alma. The whole point is ambiguity."

"What about the strip club?"

I slow my stirs. "What about it?"

"Are you going to quit because of this job?"

My lips pressed together. "No. I'll be paid based off the revenue the artist gets. That's not as stable as the club, it's more of a part-time gig."

"And stripping is a career?"

I break away from the stove to grab two Little Mermaid plates, setting them by the waffle maker where the green light is on. Flipping the top open, I take a fork and pluck the fluffy bread onto Ursula's face. "It is for now." After filling the iron again, I turn back to the skillet.

"Vehren, I like that your pursuing music, but you need to find a career. Touchdown Wings was perfect for you. I don't understand why you don't serve again."

"I can't work at T-Dubs anymore, Mom. They won't hire me back. That ship has sailed. Milky Way is a good gig, it pays my bills and feeds Eris. I don't see the problem."

"The problem is your selling your body and soul."

The scrambled eggs are done quicker than the waffle. I scoop them onto both plates.

"I don't want to have this conversation. I was just telling you the good news."

"I'm not trying to make you uncomfortable, Vehren." Alma says with a slow tone.

I sigh heavy. "Eris is good, by the way." I take the phone to my daughter, putting it on speaker as I set it on her little table. "Say, 'hi', baby girl."

"Hi, Grandma!"

"Hi, Eris! Are you having fun?" I go back to the kitchen, putting the final waffle on the plate. I grab two cups, one small with Princess Peach from Super Mario and the other a regular pink cup.

Eris jumps in her seat. "Yeah! We're going to the zoo!"

I pour milk into the cups as Mom responds with the same energy. "The zoo?! That's so cool!" I cut Eris' waffle in half, putting the other side on my plate. "Are you excited about doing a beauty pageant?"

Eris watches me as I come to her with food. She smiles, "Yes. Daddy said I'm gonna look like a princess!" I set the plate and milk before her.

"You are going to be the prettiest princess of all time! I hope you have fun." I grab my waffles and milk, sitting on the felted seat before the glass. "When are you coming to Grandma's house?"

"I don't know."

I reach for the phone. "Ask Moeko."

"You ask her. I miss Eris' chubby face. I miss you too, it's been a while since we've seen each other."

"Yeah, I've been busy with Eris and work. Next time I have her I'll bring her over."

"Great. I'm glad you called, Vehren. Your brothers ask about you all the time, you know."

"That's funny, I thought they'd forget about me once I gave them my shit."

"Well, they haven't. Your father and I may not like what you're doing for work, but you're turning out to be a well-rounded young man. We are proud of you, son."

I weakly smile. "Thanks. I'm going to eat with Eris now. I'll see you later."

"I love you, Vehren."

"Love you too, Alma." I look over to Eris happily shoving the waffle in her mouth.

♂

Eris wore the dress we made together. It's a flared, pink dress with rainbow sparkles at the ends. She skips down the stairwell, black baby doll shoes tapping down the cement. Out the front door of the building, she runs at full speed out into the courtyard. I have to pick up my pace to catch up with her. Her Hello Kitty backpack slides off my shoulder when I grab hers. "Don't run into parking lots, Eris!" I scold her, snatching her hand as I look both ways.

Sunglasses cover up my brown eyes and a solid purple Gucci purse dangles off my right arm. I wore my gym outfit: a skin-tight, black tank with dark yoga pants and my freshly white Nikes. The top of my hair is in a bun, the rest feathers down my neck to my protruding collarbone. Took me thirty minutes to flatten my thick hairs perfectly, another thirty to create a natural look with makeup. Luckily Cocomelon is intoxicating to children.

We cross to the port where my black SRT Challenger named 'Coachella' is parked. I load Eris into the back, buckling her in her car seat giving her a peck on the cheek. I whip out of the lot, hoping off Baldwin Avenue turning left on Mill Avenue, where I drive straight through the apartments of Rochester Club. Dubstep plays on the stereo; Eris likes the wild sounds of Skrillex or Panda Eyes.

"I want ice cream, Daddy!" Eris screams from the back.

"It's early, but we'll consider it a treat for being a good girl this weekend."

"Am I getting ice cream?"

At the first stop sign, I turn left onto the double-lane road of Elizabeth. "Yep."

"Yay!" Eris claps. I'm strolling thirty-five through the quiet neighborhood. Another stop sign, I go on Main Street, entering the downtown of Rochester. A mile down is McDonald's. Before I take the journey, I stop by Comerica Bank directly across the street. At the ATM, I pull out two-hundred dollars and stuff the money into my wallet that matches my purse.

It's a thirty-minute ride to Gratiot Avenue. I pass by mostly land, houses, and water. I don't take the freeway because I prefer the scenic route. The freeway is for when I need to get somewhere quick, like work, which is an hour drive. I like riding in the car with my daughter and listening to her music preferences. Even if it's terrible auto tune. She ate her ice cream happily, finishing it by the time I eventually reached Gratiot.

Moeko lived at her good friend Sariyah's house in New Haven, a borderline ghost town heavily surrounded by religion. I'm not too fond of Eris staying there, but Moeko claims this is only until she can get an apartment. Getting my apartment was already a struggle, and Moeko doesn't want to live with me. She might not have a choice soon since Sariyah is not a fan of me and doesn't let me visit her home.

My tires finally get a break from potholes, resting on the white pavement of Sariyah's driveway behind Moeko's Town and Country. It's a nice trailer park though her house is bland, just a white square with a few porch decorations. Her front lawn is large patch of green grass, a few flamingos and gnomes stand closer to the porch. I get out, looking around for Sariyah's Mustang. (Not that I would've left if she was here.)

Eris hops out the backseat, mouth covered in dry ice cream. I lick my fingers and wipe her lips. The door opens. I turn my head to see an Blasian beauty standing on the porch, arms folded over her black sundress. "Look," I point to her, 'it's Mommy."

"Hi, Eris!" Moeko comes down the porch barefoot. A smell of roses and white carnations flutter from her skin. She stops at the flamingo where Eris meets her. They hug tightly for a while before Eris breaks away to run into the house. Moeko stands once I come towards her. "How was she?"

"Amazing as always." I smile. "How are you?"

Moeko shrugs. "I'm managing. And you?"

"I could say the same. I got that ghostwriter gig I was talking about."

She grins warmly. "You did? No way, that's awesome, Vehren! That's nice you'll be

getting recognition for your songs."

"Well, I won't be getting anything but the artist's money, I guess. It's something."

Her dark eyes hit the ground. She asks, "What're you doing for your birthday?"

"I'll be giving a jaw-dropping performance tonight." I go into my car to yank for my wallet and hand her the two hundreds. "This is for the week. Whatever Eris needs."

They jump back up to me. "Thank you. You're working really hard, Vehren. I'd come to see you, but you know how I feel about clubs."

"Right."

Her thin eyebrows raise. "I know you love her. It'd be nice if you came with me to meet her beauty coach on Tuesday. She needs your support." Her arms fold again.

"This is your idea anyways, so you should show up."

I blink, playing with my jaw. "I can do that, Moe."

Her smile is weak. "We're meeting at five."

"I'll be there. Text me the information."

"Sure." Moeko uncurls her arms, dropping them to her curvy hips. "Well, you better go. Got a long drive back to Rochester."

"Not that long." I shrug. "But I do have to go. I want to enjoy my time before work."

"Well, it was nice seeing you."

"It's always nice to see you." I come closer to her. "I'm really sorry about how things turned out. We're okay, right? Friends still?"

Moeko dips the corner of her mouth into her cheek and nods. "Yeah, friends."

I nod too, heading back to my car. "I'll see you later."

"Happy birthday, Vehren."

I smile. "Thanks." I get inside Coachella. Soon as the engine started, my phone lit up.

I'm getting tagged on Instagram from co-workers currently and not. They

congratulate me, using photos of us taken from Milky Way Playhouse. Sevena Cande posted a video of me on the pole recently, calling me the 'baddest bitch' she knows. I liked and commented on each photo, finally pulling out of the driveway, and heading to Planet Fitness.

♂

Stream bursts from the shower, I step out to cool air touching my open pores. My hair is dried first, ruining the work I did earlier. The curls has shriveled, and the length has shrunk to my Adam's apple. Water drips down my sun-kissed body, running over the curves of my abs and down my flat abdomen. I dry up the 'v'-line dipping to my crotch, brushing my soft cock with the blue towel.

Wearing nothing but a robe, I go into the living room. I turn on 'Keeping up with The Kardashians', revealing my black bong from the drawer beneath the TV. Gathering all the tools and flower, I pack the bowl and spark up Angel Kush. Sluuuurp, I inhale sharply. The smoke burns my throat, but I keep going. I hold for half a minute, then release a river from my mouth. Immediately, my eyes roll back, and I'm coated with warmth. My cheeks blush and intense heat fills my chest. I fall back into the couch, sinking in like butter on a hot sidewalk.

"Fuck." I exhale, eyes gluing on the TV. Kim Kardashian is doing a shoot and the director wants her naked. She doesn't feel comfortable doing the shoot naked. I've seen this episode; she ends up going nude upon being pushed by her mother and sisters. It's annoying how they treated her, she obviously didn't want to be anymore sexually exploited than she already has been.

Something similar happened to me with my family, except it didn't include me getting nude. I am the eldest of four brothers, the leader and role model. I had to fill in shoes that didn't fit me. Only, I had said no. I said no to a football scholarship for University of Michigan. Why? Because I'm gay.

I watch the Kardashian in envy, wishing all it took was a sex tape to launch me into fame. I don't know a Ray Jay, nor does my dad represent any celebrities at his law firm. My mother is dead, but she wasn't money-hungry when she was alive. If anything living comfortably her whole life has make her feel like money doesn't matter. It does. It signifies respect, something I desire deeply.

Do I deserve to be respected? Yes. I just need to prove my talent. I smile from the phone call from Cherryhill, it's unbelievable I'm actually on the right track. Another hit from the bong, another celebratory toke.

This hit truly sends me, tingling runs down my body. My eyelashes fall low, and my breathing slows. A pleasurable hum escapes my lips. Music plays in my head. A song I've already written but with different words. I open my eyes and take a deep breath. Lucci is eating a bone on the floor, minding her own business. My eyes scan up to the TV, where Kim is doing the shoot naked. She does have a banging body.

A knock sounds at the door and Lucci goes crazy. I tighten my robe as I get up from the couch. Lucci growls and snarls, but she poses no threat. I shoo her into my bedroom. At the door, I peek through the hole. When I see a dark man, lean with muscle and sparse tattoos, I smile. I open the door, head tilting as I fall against the edge. "Hey, Jack."

Jack Schaefer, my upstairs neighbor, reveals a little silver box; 'ANGEL SHIT' written in bold. He grins, teeth glowing white. "Happy birthday, Mars."

I take the box, sliding it open to reveal a glass jar of weed. I sniff the flower, it's dank as fuck. "Thank you." My eyes latch on his dark irises. They're almond shaped and big, like looking at a Bratz doll, a stark contrast with his body. It's hard to be taller than me, but he accomplished that. I enjoy having to look up, it's a rare feature. "You can come in."