At times, Phillip wondered why he ever let himself make his own decisions. Blindfolded, in the back of an SUV, crammed between two other guys he had recently met was one of those times. The car jerked and turned at random while 90's pop music blared. The two guys in the front of the car sang off tune at the top of their lungs. His high school baseball team had done the same kind of stuff. Well, not this really, but they'd hazed the freshmen, filling their lockers with popcorn or making them carry all the equipment at the end of the practice. They had not grabbed them in the locker room, put a torn pillowcase strip over their eyes, and drove them to a secret location. Or any of the bizarre scenes from bad fraternity movies. Phillip consoled himself with the thought that his new teammates wouldn't really want to hurt him. Baseball players aren't much good with broken arms.
He had signed the scholarship in the spring. Since then, he'd been spending afternoon practices with the community college team. The summer days were hot and long, but he loved the game. He'd come to appreciate his new teammates, but it was hard to replicate his high school experience. At least, that's what he thought. He didn't like to admit it to himself, but whenever he tried to remember his high school life, much of it was vague. The memories were cloudy and too troublesome to figure out. Cloverdale had become a strange place recently.
The two other young men on either side of him were Dan and Sean, who were also freshmen on the team. Neither of them seemed to appreciate the current experience either, but had resigned themselves to suffer through it. Unbeknownst to the three of them, they all shared this feeling and could have used that common bond to become closer, essentially accomplishing the goal of hazing, but instead they rode on trying not to get the Backstreet Boys stuck in their head.
The car lurched to a halt outside of a building near the edge of town. The blindfold did nothing to inhibit Phillip's sight. He made a note to himself that when his turn came to abduct some freshmen, he would use better quality cloth. The music shut off and the two men in the front jumped out and slammed the doors behind them. Tony and Karl, the seniors. Phillip initially wondered how they had come to be seniors at a community college and managed to play baseball all those years, but as he learned more about the world, he saw that this was not uncommon. Every community college was littered with Tonys and Karls. Phillip heard the two of them talking through the window. He distinctly heard the words "cops" and "handjobs." This mildly bothered him. He had expected some kind of mischief since Tony and Karl often teased the freshmen about their inexperience with women, But as most of the town had become obsessed with the reveal of a secretive gentleman's club, incorporating a trip to the club seemed natural. Turning his head, Phillip could make out a neon red glow peeking through his blindfold. He knew he couldn't possibly be anywhere else.
The passenger door opened. A voice said in a loud whisper, "Ok. We're going to lead you inside. Don't worry, we've got everything planned. No one is going to get in trouble so long as you don't make a scene or anything. Everyone cool with that." It was Karl. He sounded uncharacteristically nervous.
No one answered for a moment then Phillip said, "Yes." Dan and Sean echoed the response.
"Alright, fuckers," Tony's voice came. "Careful getting out of the car, when you're standing up, put your hand on the shoulder of the guy in front of you, and we'll lead you inside. Karl, go get the sheep and the condoms."
Through the slit in his blindfold, Phillip saw Karl roll his eyes. The Crimson's sign glowed behind him. As he got out of the car, he could see they had pulled up to the side of the building and were heading toward a port door on the end of the strangely shaped building. Around the side, he saw multiple cars in an unkempt grassy lot. Only a mild wind disturbed the air. He assumed the building had some kind of sound proofing. Karl grabbed his hand and put it on Dan's shoulder. A moment later, Sean's slammed down on his own. They began an awkward shuffle toward the port door. Their feet scuffed over the leaf covered ground. The blindfold's ineffectiveness did not extend to his ability to navigate with his own feet.
As they walked, Tony started to "baaah" and laugh to himself. They reached the door, opened it, and entered without any ceremony. No one to stop them for ID. No bouncer to leer at them. No hostess of any sort. Past the door they walked down a straight hallway. The floor was smooth and easier to walk on than the broken asphalt outside, so they didn't fumble as much. Phillip could make out the low thrum of a heavy bass coming from somewhere deep in the building, but for being inside the back hallway of a club it was eerily quiet. They walked and walked, making slow progress. He wondered just how big this building could be and started to consider that the blindfold was throwing off his sense of direction more than he'd expected. The hallway could be curved slightly enough for him not to notice. They could be walking in a circle for all he really knew.
Phillip was so lost in his thoughts that he walked right into the back of Dan when they finally came to a stop. Another door opened, they shuffled through, and he heard it slam behind them. Hands turned them to face the right side of the room they had entered. Dan and Sean bumped on either of his shoulders in a line. They were ordered to sit as the edge of a chair pushed into the back of Phillip's knees. He sat, and Karl whispered in his ear, "Don't worry, this is going to be amazing." Their hands were pulled behind them, straining their arms around the chairs. A small strip of cloth wrapped around their wrists over and over again until they were unable to move their arms. One by one, the blindfolds were removed.
The room was dimly lit. Phillip could make out a platform several feet in front of them. As his eyes adjusted to the light, he was able to discern the gleaming pole fixed in the center of the stage. He squirmed in his seat, trying to ease the discomfort in his shoulders. Tony walked down the line with a platter in his hand on which sat a dozen or so shot glasses sloshing over their contents. Dan opened his mouth and tilted his head back as Tony poured a shot down his throat. Dan swallowed. Another. Another. Dan closed his mouth and shook his head. Three was the number to beat.
