Jim looked at him. “Wait ... what?”
“Why the fuck should I?” Matt asked. “I told your ass to go home. You’re the one who chose to stay in Houston with me. I mean, why the fuck should I pay you when you weren’t technically on the clock?”
Is he fucking kidding me? Jim thought angrily. He then decided it was an appropriate question to ask out loud. “Are you fucking kidding me?”
“Of course I’m fucking kidding you,” Matt said with a laugh. “You thought I brought you here to fire you? What the fuck, dude? You really think I’m that fucking cold?”
“You ... uh ... didn’t bring me here to fire me?”
“No fuckin’ way,” Matt said. “You’re my man, homey! I like having you around. I told you that shit a couple times before. Knowing you’re there with that fuckin’ football gives me piece of mind. I like having piece of mind—almost as much as I like having a piece of pussy.”
Jim was confused now. “So ... you’re not firing me?”
“No, I’m not fucking firing you. How many times I gotta say that shit?”
“Then ... why did you bring me here?” Jim asked.
“To talk about the tour, just like I said,” Matt told him.
“What about the tour?” Jim asked exasperated.
“I was talking to Crow and Doolittle over at National yesterday,” Matt said. “Now that those quacks fixed my heart, the fuckin’ suits wanted to talk international tour.”
“International?”
“Yeah,” Matt said. “That means between nations and shit. After we finish up the second and third legs here in the states and Canada, they want us to hit up Europe, Asia, and then South America.”
“Wow,” Jim said. “That’s a lot of touring.”
“Fuck yeah, homey,” he said. “And international is different than domestic. First of all, we’re talking first class air travel by commercial jets between all venues. In addition, we get lots of extended breaks between venues because the fuckin’ equipment has to travel by ship and takes a while to catch up with us. And that, of course, means lots of time in fancy-ass hotel rooms and lots of time to nail down foreign gash. We’re talking French gash, English gash, Italian gash if those fucking prudes let us play in their country, even Eastern European gash since they’re planning to book us some dates in Poland, Ukraine, and Russia. Have you ever scored any Ukrainian gash before?”
“Uh ... no,” Jim said, still trying to process that he wasn’t being fired. “I never have.”
“Me either,” Matt said, “at least not from the motherland itself. But those Ukrainian bitches are fuckin’ hot, dude, as long as you get them before they turn thirty. After they hit thirty ... well ... it’s like someone pulled a pin on a life raft. They explode and start wearing those fucked-up hats. Anyway, I can’t wait to get out there. I got my fuck map all ready to add some new sovereign nations.”
“And you want me to go with you?” Jim asked, just for clarity.
“I don’t just want you to go with me, I fuckin’ need you. You’re my medic! If I’m gonna be traveling around in these fucked up countries in Eastern Europe, Asia, and fucking South America, where the healthcare systems are corrupt at best, lethal at worst, I want my medic on duty at all times.”
“I see,” Jim said, envisioning the possibilities (and starting to ponder the thought of Ukrainian gash), “but ... well ... how long will all of this take?”
“Six months beyond what we’ve already got scheduled,” Matt said. “Is that a problem?”
“Well ... uh ... no, not really,” Jim said.
“You seem a little hesitant,” Matt said.
“Not at all,” Jim said. “I’m just trying to sort through this.” In truth, he had no intention of turning this offer down, but was simply wondering whether it would be a good idea to just give up his apartment and put everything into storage until the gig was over. Was there any sense in paying four digit rent on a pad he was not going to set foot in for another nine months?
“How about I help you sort?” Matt asked. “I’ll sweeten the pot a little.”
“Sweeten the pot?”
“Starting with the international tour, your daily rate goes up to a thousand.”
Jim’s eyes widened. “A thousand dollars?”
“Fuck yeah,” Matt said. “That’s like a thirty-three percent raise, right? Call it hardship pay for having to be out of the country.”
“That’s very generous, Matt,” Jim said, his mind already adding up the raise in his head.
“Fuck yeah it is,” Matt agreed. “I take care of my people, Jim. And you’re one of my people. And the best thing about pulling in that kind of coin in Europe and Asia and South America is that it’s income not made in the US. It’s not subject to US taxation. You get to keep fucking all of it.”
“Really?” Jim asked, adding a few more zeros to the loose number in his head.
“Fuckin’ A,” Matt said. “That’s what my accountant tells me anyway. So ... that’s the deal. You in?”
“I’m in,” Jim said.
“You’re the man,” Matt said, clapping him on the back nearly hard enough to hurt. “You sure you don’t want one of these bonghits? It really is the shit.”
“You know,” Jim said happily, “you talked me into it.”
“My nigger,” Matt said again, opening up his stash box. As he pulled off a sizeable piece of Hawaiian bud to stuff into the bowl, he asked, “What do you got going today? Anything?”
“No plans,” Jim said. “I was just resting up before we headed back out. I’ve already seen all the family and friends I really care to.”
“Why don’t you hang out then?” Matt asked, sliding the bong and a lighter across the bar. “Kim has a couple of her actresses coming over to talk some business.”
“Actresses?” Jim asked, looking up. “You mean ... uh ... porn actresses?”
“That’s right,” Matt said, “although they prefer to be referred to as ‘adult film actresses’. Anyway, these bitches are pretty much always hot to trot. After the meeting is over, there’s a good chance for playing hide the salami with them.”
This day was getting more interesting by the moment. “Well ... I suppose I could stay for a bit,” Jim said.
“I thought maybe you could,” Matt said. “Now here’s the deal, I want the porn actresses for myself. I’m thinking a threesome out on the balcony would be a good way to wrap up the Christmas break. Your job will be to keep Kim occupied.”
“Wait ... what?” Jim asked, sure he had misunderstood.
“Keep Kim occupied,” Matt said. “You know ... take her in the bedroom and fuck her? You do think she’s hot, right?”
“Uh ... yeah, of course she’s hot,” Jim said, “but ... she’s your ... your ... you know?”
“She’s my primary gash,” Matt said. “That don’t mean she doesn’t get to fuck other dudes. You just have to sheath your weapon when you nail her. I’m the only one who gets to fuck her bareback, and vice-versa.”
“But ... what about ... I mean ... how do you know she even wants to ... you know ... do it with me?”
“Why wouldn’t she?” Matt asked. “You’re a good-looking guy. I’ve seen your schlong and it’s a reasonably sized one. She’ll fuck you.”
“Wow,” Jim whispered. “This is kind of weird for me, Matt, I gotta tell you. And I’ve been through some weird shit with you to this point.”
“It’s a weird world,” Matt said. “Just don’t ask her to do one of those fake orgasms for you. That’s a turn-off for her. Instead, you should concentrate on giving her real ones. She’s quite capable of firing off several times in a row. She likes having her nipples pinched while you nail her from behind. That almost always sets her off. She also likes it when you stick it in her ass and rub her clit while you butt fuck her. And if you eat a good pussy, that’ll get her as well.”