Chad enjoyed a friendly banter with the gay guys that frequented the gayborhood grocery store where he worked. He enjoyed his customers and chatting with them was fun. And the slight flirting was good practice if he ever got a more lucrative job bartending in one of the neighborhood's gay bars, where flirting would lead to better tips. And it helped that Chad made a point of remembering his customers' names, which flashed on the screen when they paid with a debit card.
It's not like he was leading any of his customers on. They knew he had a girlfriend. He referenced her often enough in conversations to make it clear he wasn't gay. Occasionally after work, she would meet him for a quick cocktail at one of the local gay bars before they headed home.
Lawrence was one of the store's regulars, a distinguished guy in his late 50s or perhaps early 60s, usually in a collar shirt and freshly pressed jeans or khakis. Chad was processing Lawrence's purchase of fresh fruit and vodka when, while reaching up to adjust a sign, his jeans inched down enough to show the waistband of his navy-blue Fruit-of-the-Loom boxer briefs.
"Forgot my belt today!" Chad said, laughing. "My pants almost fell down."
Lawrence winked. "In this neighborhood, I don't think anyone would mind."
Chad laughed again. "My girlfriend keeps teasing me that I should go to underwear night at The Phoenix one of these days."
Most of the gay bars in the neighborhood played pop music and catered to a collegiate preppy crowd. The seedier gay bars were all on the South Side. The Phoenix was an exception, a denim/leather bar with an edgier vibe. On Mondays, they had an underwear night where patrons could get drink specials if they stripped down to their undies. On these nights, the bar hosted a "best bulge" contest at midnight.
"You should," Lawrence said. "I dare you!"
Chad just laughed and shrugged. "I dunno, maybe someday."
"Seriously, I bet you a hundred bucks if you do it. I'll even pay for your bar tab, and your girlfriend's."
Chad winked and finished bagging up Lawrence's groceries.
Lawrence was halfway down the block when he heard Chad calling his name.
"I took my break," Chad said as he ran up to Lawrence. "Were you serious about that bet?"
"What's your Venmo?" Lawrence asked. Chad told him. A second later, Chad's phone buzzed, and he saw that a hundred bucks had been sent to his account.
"Wait, I haven't even agreed to this yet," Chad stammered.
"That's just to think about it," Lawrence said. "I'll make it five hundred bucks plus your bar tab -- and your girlfriend's -- if we go and you strip down to just your underpants and sneakers. You have to check everything else."
Five hundred bucks!
Chad was getting by with his grocery job, and his girlfriend made decent money with her sales job -- decent money, but not great money. Five hundred dollars could really help with the bills.
"Okay, let me talk to my girlfriend," Chad said.
Over the next few days, they firmed up the deal, agreeing to meet up that Monday at 9:00 p.m. when underwear night officially began. Lawrence offered to throw in an extra $100 if Chad agreed to wear plain white bikini briefs that Lawrence would provide. Chad provided his underwear size but wouldn't commit to wearing the skimpy briefs.
Chad and his girlfriend Amy were already waiting in front of The Phoenix when Lawrence strolled up the following Monday night. Chad was nervously clenching Amy's hand, perhaps to calm himself down, perhaps to send a signal to the gay patrons that he wasn't available for friskiness.
"Let's grab drinks and then I'll take you to coat check," Lawrence said. He ordered a Corona for Chad, a vodka cranberry for Amy, and a vodka soda for himself before walking the group to the back where the coat check room was located.
"Ready?" Lawrence asked as he handed over the plastic garbage bag from coat check for Chad to stow his clothes.
Chad looked around. "Shouldn't we wait a little?" he asked. "No one else is in their undies yet."
A few older guys had stripped down: an older bearish guy in a dingy jockstrap, and a middle-aged guy in blue briefs who looked like he'd been drinking since noon. Most of the other guys mingled about in jeans or the occasional chaps, all apparently waiting for more guys to make the first move."
Lawrence nodded. "Yes, now," he said firmly. "Show them how it's done. Besides, it will be more fun if you're the only eye candy."
More fun for Lawrence, at least.
Chad slowly unzipped his hoody, folding it and carefully placing it in the bag. "Are you doing it?" he asked.
"Nope, just you. Not me, not Amy."
Chad pulled his t-shirt off and carefully folded it. Nice, smooth chest with just the faintest sprinkling of chest hair. After handing his cell phone to Amy, he kicked off his tennis shoes and slowly slid his jeans off, blushing furiously.
"Socks, too," Lawrence said.
"Wait, what?"
"Yeah, the deal was everything except underpants and shoes. Put your socks in the bag.
Chad slowly peeled off his socks, standing barefoot on top of his shoes as he folded up his socks. Now he was just wearing somewhat baggy black boxer briefs.
Lawrence pulled the white bikini briefs out of his jacket pocket. "You brave enough to wear these?"
Chad shook his head. "Naw, I'm good. Not for a hundred bucks."