CHAPTER 7

CHARLIE HADN’T SEEN Judas in years and yet there he was, dressed in long, pointy, expensive-looking dress shoes, tight, shiny slacks, and a Chain Male polo shirt. One sleeve mostly covered what had to be a huge brand on his shoulder of the Greek letter beta. He hadn’t aged at all; in fact, if anything, he looked better, younger. His hair was finely pomaded and his cheeks, top and bottom, were chiseled from granite.

“Are you coming in the club or what?” he said in a curt but oddly friendly way. He put his arm around the beefy bouncer. “They’re with me.” He slipped the bouncer a ten spot and the bouncer begrudgingly unclipped the velvet rope, gesturing for Charlie, Roheed, and Jonathan to pass through.

The club was packed. Judas wound their group through the dudes with spiky hair who were fist-pumping to the music and the ladies in short dresses who were dancing and holding their phones in one hand and a poorly mixed cocktail with a thin black straw in the other. They reached Judas’s table, where he had the mother of all bottle service setups spread out, bottle service unlike anything Charlie had ever seen. Judas had clear liquor in goblets, mixer juices in all the colors of the rainbow, limes and olives and other garnishes, and even a baby bottle, a stuffed bottle-nosed dolphin toy, and a Blu-ray copy of the movie Bottle Rocket. At Da Club, they don’t skimp on the bottle service.

“Help yourself,” Judas said as he gestured to the bevy of beverages.

Charlie, Jonathan, and Roheed attacked the drinks like lions on a weak gazelle. They each had their reasons for getting plastered that night. For Charlie, seeing the In Sheep’s Clothing movie trailer had reopened a wound that he had tried to bury deep. Roheed was sad not only about his most recent conversation with Florence and how it had ended, but in general with the decline in their communication over the past months. Jonathan, of course, was on the cusp of his wedding, a time that should have been joyous, but he couldn’t believe Chris had sprung his estranged mother on him like that. They each knew that they needed to iron out their respective situations, but that night they were going to drink.

Jonathan made his way to the dance floor and started to boogie. His style was weird and kind of awful but fun to watch, and he was dancing with such enthusiasm that it drew a crowd to him. And the crowd wasn’t hating; some were amused, but some were genuinely impressed by the way he was moving his arms and legs independently of each other, blowing his lifeguard’s whistle along in time with the latest rap hits that the deejay was spinning. Roheed was breakdancing expertly beside Jonathan, a skill he had perfected in the Bay Area to let off steam between long coding sessions while he built apps. Jonathan and Roheed caused quite a scene. At one point, they were doing a “Macarena”-infused “Gangnam Style” dance to Rebecca Black’s “Friday.”

Charlie sat with Judas in his booth as they drank. Judas, amused, watched Jonathan and Roheed.

Charlie eyed him suspiciously. “How did you know about Jonathan’s bachelor party tonight?”

“I sensed it. I can whiff out a bach’ par’ from miles away,” Judas said. Charlie didn’t buy it. Judas noticed and relented. “I’m actually in town for a speaking engagement. I was about to step outside for a vape and I saw you chumps rolling up and I knew you weren’t going to get in.”

Charlie glugged his gimlet.

Judas chuckled. “I haven’t seen you guys in forever. When was that whole relay race thing? The summer before last?”

“No, three summers ago.” Charlie answered too quickly, then covered, “I mean, I think, who knows? It’s not like I ever think about that stuff.” Except that just the night before, he and Jonathan and Roheed had talked for two hours about that very era of their lives.

“Right,” Judas said, then scrunched up his forehead as if he was thinking hard. “Hey,” he said, raising his voice an octave or two higher, “Are you still mad about my whole ‘betraying you all’ thing?”

Charlie thought he should be, but found it hard to care anymore. Would he still be working summers at the snack bar if they had flat-out won the Tri-County Relay Race? He hoped not. Would Jonathan still be secretly living there? He wasn’t sure. Had Judas maybe done them all a favor? Maybe.

“I think we’re cool, man,” Charlie said.

Judas smiled. “Cool.”

“What have you been up to since then?” Charlie redirected the line of questioning at Judas, who was more than ready to talk about himself.

“Well, I started working at Chain Male,” Judas began.

“The store where the mannequins have nipples?”

“And abs!” Judas replied, a little too excitedly. “And I was doing pretty well.”

Charlie could tell he was going to be there for a while, so he refilled his drink and listened as Judas painted a picture with his words.

• • •

Judas ran the sales floor of Chain Male, the uber-popular athletic clothing store. His job entailed showing sweat-resistant products to swole bros, fit chicks, and overweight dads who loved sports. He was in shape and knew what he was talking about, which translated to major sales, much to the satisfaction of his manager, Sean Matters, another mid-twenties bro with big biceps.

One day, Sean and Judas were standing by the energy drink refrigerator in the break room, sipping mutagen-green caffeinated beverages, when Sean said he had some news for Judas.

“I’m transferring to Cali bro, they’re making me Chain Male regional director of the So-Cal area.”

“Bro!” Judas exclaimed excitedly. They bumped forearms in celebration. Judas almost thought a butt pat was in order but refrained.

“They said I could assemble my team, and there’s no ass I’d rather emble than yours, bro. I was wondering if you wanted to go to ’Fornia with me?”

“That sounds epic!” Judas was pumped, but hesitant. “Let me powernap on it and I’ll get back to you ASAP.”

“V cool, bro, v cool,” Sean said, exiting the room.

Judas fist-pumped to himself alone in the break room. He totally wanted to move to California and work with Sean, but he had grown up in Yellow County and didn’t know if he wanted to leave quite yet. He was a big fish in a small pond, and a big pond didn’t necessarily sound like where he wanted to swim.

He pondered like he had never pondered before as he restocked the men’s bikini briefs later that day. By fate, or maybe just by another one of those happenstances that happens to stance in Yellow County, a gentleman with an energetic aura about him floated into the store and across the room to where Judas was working. He had dark hair, an Asian-American flavor about him, and a wisp of a T-shirt covering his impeccable pecs. This earned him a lot of notice from other customers, but Judas was deep in thought, engrossed in his task and his ponderments.

The man walked right up to Judas and said, “Excuse me.”

Judas turned, a pair of undies in hand. “Welcome to Chain Male, how can I help you?”

The man looked deep into Judas’s eyes. “What can you tell me about the product you’re currently holding?”

Judas didn’t skip a beat. “The Chain Male luxury men’s bikini brief is the Hummer H2 of things that cover your booty. The sweat-resistant material will treat your package like a FedEx carrier on ecstasy. And the elastic waistband does not warp, even if you’re going from the gym to the bedroom or the office to the discothèque.”

The man just watched and nodded. “Sold,” he said, “I’ll take every pair of thirty-inch waist you’ve got.”

Judas couldn’t believe it. “Bro!”

The man smiled. “Bro.”

Judas cleared out the floor and stock room of the particular size of Underoos that the man had requested. He loaded the bags into the back of the man’s yellow Hummer H2. The man hit a button on his key fob and the trunk door closed.

Judas gave a little wave. “Thanks!” he said, and turned back toward the store.

“Wait,” the man said. “I know talent when I see it. The way you inspired me to buy those briefs, I think you could inspire young adults to be great.”

“Huh?”

The man handed Judas his business card. It read, Gregory Thang: G THANG Motivational Speaking, and in smaller type, & Realty. The slogan underneath read, When nuthin’ but a G Thang will do.

Judas clasped the card in his hand and watched the G Thang himself peel out of the parking lot in his ridiculously, unnecessarily large vehicle.

Things progressed from there. Judas called the number on the card and Gregory Thang took him on as a protégé in the art of brotivational speaking.

At first they just met to work out together. After showering up and talcing down, Gregory would have Judas (they were always standing in the locker room, both still in towels at that point by the way) deliver a speech to himself in the mirror. If you can convince yourself, Gregory would say, you can convince others.

Judas spoke cautiously, thinking about his words before saying them. Gregory would shake his head and ask Judas where the confidence was that he initially saw when Judas sold him those pairs of underwear. Judas took that to heart and brought his frat bro swagger to his message. Soon he was adept in the mirror challenge and was ready to speak to others.

Judas started speaking to frat houses half full of a couple of dudes in popped-collared shirts. He wore Chain Male polos, he amateurishly gelled his hair, and once he got in front of an actual audience, he was nervous again, referring to cue cards sporadically.

“Hello, uh, dudes,” he would start. “Today I’m going to be speaking to you about confidence?” he said sheepishly.

But he got better. He stood on the bar at a Case Of The Mondays chain restaurant while waitresses in sexy secretary outfits served wings and beers to schlubby young professionals who had turned up for the advertised speaking engagement. Judas wasn’t using cue cards anymore, he had figured out his hair—he used fiber now, not gel—and he had invested in some nice shirts and slacks, not the douchey Chain Male stuff he had been wearing.

“What can confidence get you?” He was still a little hesitant. “Sure, maybe a date with one of these fine waitresses here.” He smiled at a waitress who rolled her eyes but then did actually smile in spite of his cheesiness. He just had something, a charisma that kept people listening.

And with time he got good, really good. He spoke to the Brown State Lacrosse Team, their coaches, and the rest of the BS LAX staff. He walked the field, owning it. He was dressed well and had one of those Britney Spears mics projecting his voice to his engaged audience.

“But you know what else confidence can get you?” He had his spiel down pat. “Jobs. Jobs ain’t just for Stevie anymore fellas, I’m talking about money in the bank, cash money. Money can buy you things.” The dudes in the crowd would murmur and nod their heads.

Judas spoke at the Chain Male regional conference at the Yellow County Convention Center in an enormous room filled with alpha males. He was on stage with buzzwords projected onto a screen behind him as lasers danced around the room. He had grown his hair out to shoulder-length, and the top half was pulled back into a Tom Cruise in Magnolia ponytail.

“And things make the world go ’round. What do you have to do to get those things?” The crowd was quiet; Judas had their undivided attention. He whispered, “Stuff.” The crowd murmured in approval.

Judas repeated himself at regular volume, “Stuff.”

He pumped his fist and yelled, “Stuff! Stuff! Stuff!” and the crowd chanted along with him. He made a motion like a conductor signaling a band to rest. The crowd fell silent.

“So if you take nothing from this talk but one thing, let it be: Have the confidence to do the stuff that will get you things. Thank you. Goodnight.”

Judas waved, the curtain closed, and the crowd went wild. He was crushing it, consistently, and making handfuls of money doing it even though he really wasn’t saying much, if anything.

Life was good for Judas the brotivational speaker.

• • •

Charlie was drunk, pretty jealous, and a little confused. “Wow,” he muttered.

Judas nodded proudly.

“You’re killing it,” Charlie said. “Jonathan is probably hopefully still getting married, and Roheed is dating a socialite heiress deejay and making apps. What the hell am I doing with my life?”

Judas shrugged. “I don’t know, but I know what we’re doing tonight.”

Charlie raised his eyebrows to Rude Jude.

Judas paused for dramatic effect, then said, “We’re going back to the pool.”