Enter the shady and exciting world of New York City nightlife. Starting from the year, 1999, "Bounce" depicts the true events in the life of a seventeen year old bouncer, who is introduced to an adult world of sex, money, and violence. The narrator recollects vivid encounters with mobsters, celebrities, and women, who all contribute to his adolescent euphoria. Everything is like a fantasy . . . until . . . it all comes crashing down! Then, his close female friend helps him mature and pick up the shattered pieces of his questionable future in a romantic twist!

Bounce

By Eddie A. Bryant III

AuthorHouse

Copyright © 2010 Eddie A. Bryant III
All right reserved.
ISBN: 978-1-4490-1276-2

Chapter One

Football players, wrestlers- athletes in general- may do security work at one point or another. Back in the day, you could always expect to see an ex-high school jock or even an ex-con at the door of your favorite club. All that was needed was a muscular build and a bad attitude. Later on, club owners became lenient with regards to muscle and began hiring pretty boys, perhaps to enhance the appearance of their clubs. Now bouncers are required to have security licenses and clean records.

Many bouncers make more than $350 a night for only five or six hours of labor. Law Enforcement Officers working as part time bouncers might be paid more because of their badge. But there are some poor bastards (for a short period I was one of them) who receive less than $100 for working their asses off, for eight hours or more.

In some places being a bouncer is similar to being a waiter. You might get paid peanuts by the hour, but there is a potential to earn real money through tips, which I feel are the bread and butter of security. Fortunately, during the majority of this occupation, I managed to work at places where I received good pay, for doing practically nothing and invariably rewarded for over extending myself.

Sometimes, a partygoer may come in contact with a rude or belligerent bouncer. Without a doubt, there are some bouncers who are genuine assholes. I have also worked with cowards who were granted a walkie-talkie and all of a sudden, became Superman. Others don't even like their job and take their frustrations out on the customers. In addition, being in a hostile environment where quick decisions and constant observation are mandatory, might make that bouncer loathe his job even more.

But for other bouncers such as myself, I was raised with manners. Therefore, I gave respect unless, I was disrespected. I didn't hate my job and I never pretended to be a Superhero. However, on some occasions, customers have indeed pushed my buttons to the point where I may have fanaticized about committing murder.

As a bouncer, I came in contact with all walks of life. From New York City and beyond; I have dealt with high society, as well as the lower class. Both groups contained immoral, conniving, and cantankerous characters who might want to do harm. There were trouble making white boys from the Lower East Side and then there were snobby black kids from the Upper East Side. And let's not forget the homicidal maniacs, parading around the city in business suits. That movie, "American Psycho" will always play vividly in my mind.

No matter what kind of temperament a bouncer may start the job with, by the end of the night, that bouncer does not want to deal with anymore people. He does not want to hear anymore blaring music; nor does he wish to attempt to persuade another inebriated partygoer, that 27 shots of Patron will not enable him to fly off the bar. Regardless of who you are, after being constantly nagged, ridiculed, pushed, stepped on, and berated, at some point you will transform into an asshole.

Back then, my youth had prevented me from considering these predicaments. Although I could have passed for twenty-six, I was only seventeen when I began working at Ace's. My Uncle Victor had introduced me to one of his friends from a construction business in Brooklyn. Uncle Victor's friend had another friend, who needed bouncers to secure his club. Uncle Victor told his friend that my brother, Will needed work and a position was acquired for him as well.

In August 1999, Will and I endured Midtown Manhattan's unbearably humid subway system to go to work. We were required to wear suits, which made waiting for the train even more uncomfortable. My brother, Will is a tall, quiet guy, who never complains about anything. But even he became irritated as we stood on the crowded subway platform, wearing suits in the sweltering August heat.

Picture it: Times Square- emerging from the subway at 49th Street and 7th Avenue- delighting at the sights, sounds, and smells of a city constantly progressing. I am a native New Yorker. But even now when I journey down 7th Avenue in the evening, I find myself staring at the glowing structures of Times Square in the distance. Just imagine how amazing it was for a seventeen year old kid. I fell in love with the Jumbotron. I would stare up at that huge television screen, as it appeared protected like a hive, surrounded by a swarm of angry yellow cabs.

Will had grown accustom to these sights because he had began working at Ace's a few weeks before me. He said that, "It's a nice place but the girls can't dance to save their lives."

I was fresh out of high school and full of testosterone; about to spend eight hours in a building full of topless women from various nations. On that day however, I felt more like a mature man, who was about to spend eight hours in a world full of pleasure. The temptation in this world felt inevitable, but since I was already young and out of control, I knew that I would try to fulfill every sexual fantasy I had day-dreamed of during my high school math class.

I remember how Ace's looked back then: it was cool and dark. The theme of the small air conditioned foyer was very modern, yet pastoral; with its paintings of distant country side fields that adorned the walls. This urban and rural pattern was interrupted by a painting of a voluptuous naked woman, bathing her lower torso in a shallow lake of blood.

Below this picture were two leather chairs, which matched the color of the tacky burgundy wallpaper and carpet. The chairs were completed by a quaint round table. The D.J. booth was on the other side of the foyer, which was next to the coat check near the entrance. A patron's last stop before entering the lounge where the dancers were, was the cash register, positioned on the left side of the white double doors.

My manager, Dale (the real manager) was a cocky, Cuban-Italian, pretty boy, from Miami. He acted as if he was God's gift to women. On many occasions, I would observe him staring at his reflection in the rear view mirror of his convertible Mercedes. He seemed to be in love with himself.

Dale informed me that my post would be at the cash register. My job was to collect the money for the admission under the watchful eye of a camera mounted on the wall behind me, over my right shoulder. This was odd because in the club business, you have to be trusted in order to handle money. My guess is that, Dale thought I was some dumb kid.

I was shown what to do by, Lathario, a tall, Asian-African-American guy in his mid twenties. He was a Bronx native who had a passion for throwing back shots and exposing his penis in public. Lathario told me that I was supposed to take the $10 admission and put it in the cash register by pressing, "Sale."

"If you can't get the draw open by pressin', sale," he said, with his hand on my shoulder, "just press, no sale and the register draw'll open automatically, even if you're not puttin' anything in there."

Before Lathario finished his sentence, a little bell went off in my head. If I could open the draw without pressing, sale, I thought, then the transaction would have no receipt and no record; as if the transaction never existed. In addition, I learned that the ever so watchful camera behind me was viewed on the same monitor as seven other cameras in the club. Each camera displayed a certain area in the club for only four seconds, and then changed to a different view, which allotted me enough time to press no sale and pocket the money.

It didn't take long for me to excel at this technique. I began to make good money for a seventeen year old kid. I bought new clothes and expensive jewelry. I even purchased a fire engine red, supercharged, Chevrolet Camaro. I didn't want to appear greedy so, I showed Lathario how to do it and he gave me a small, but respectable cut. We called this method of extra money making, "the skim."

Just when I was going to teach Will what I was doing, he began working in construction, which left a vacancy at Ace's.

There was a song written by a female rapper called, "Da Brat". The name of the song was, "That's What I'm Lookin' For". In the video, there was a dark-skinned guy, wearing a black leather jacket, pretending to go down on her. He was my brother's replacement. His name is Cedric; a guy from Harlem with rangy shoulders and a funny demeanor. From our first meeting, we became good friends. He could be laid back or extremely energetic, animating his words with hyperactive gestures. He was also a player like me.

Women frequently came to Ace's to watch the show and unwind with a stiff drink. Cedric and I usually flirted with these female customers as well as the dancers and bartenders. As bouncers, Cedric and I had the ability to analyze the women that entered the club. Honestly, what self-righteous woman would go into a strip-club to watch other females, unless she was a freak, a lesbian, or just an unsure woman who wanted to observe what turned men on? There was only one woman I could remember that wanted nothing do with Cedric or me - and that was because her boyfriend had an incredible grip on her leash.

During my occupation as a bouncer, these women would approach me. Whether it was to make them feel protected in a strange surrounding, or just to keep them company while their girlfriend was talking with a guy at the bar- they would frequently initiate a conversation. That gave me confidence, as well as the power of being wanted and quite often, a blow-job later on.

I have always believed that one of the best ways for a man to bag a woman in a club, is to approach her when she is surrounded by other women. By studying the faces of her friends, that man will know if he has a chance or not. If that man is exuding confidence, charisma, and swagger, perhaps he can alter their female environment.

Here's an example, using the opposite sex.

Let's say a group of men and women go to a club and they happened to be served by a fine ass waitress. The waitress would probably get little recognition. But let that same fine ass waitress service a group of guys by themselves. I've seen it happen a dozen times. Their tongues will be suspended from their mouths, but not long enough to keep them from saying something stupid.

I remember a warm September night, when four beautiful women from Italy entered the club. "Good evening ladies," I said, "welcome to Ace's."

Cedric and I were thinking the same thing when one of the beauties, Rianna, said, "Wow! The bouncers in here are hot!" That was all we needed. She had given Cedric and me three things: the ok for us to flirt; the signal for her friends to take notice too; and that unspoken confidence a man develops when a woman is attracted to him. Now, the key is to wait and be patient. Sometimes a woman can say a bouncer is, "hot" because she is caught up in the excitement of the evening. In addition, a woman can think a man is attractive, without actually being attracted to him. The occupation of a bouncer can grant a little extra ass kissing, so one must consider that as well.

As the night went on, Cedric and I noticed that Rianna and her friends were putting on a show for everyone too. They paid for a few lap dances and then they began taking their shirts off, dancing for the strippers and for everyone interested. Around 2:30 am, I asked Lathario to take over my post so I could go inside the lounge. Dale usually departed at 1am, leaving us to do what we pleased while being aware of the cameras. Upon entering, one of Rianna's friends, Solandra, hailed me in Italian. Continuing in English, she said, "Look, there's that cute bouncer!"

After giving a lap dance, Rianna put her bra back on. I still played it cool, as I walked toward her. All of her friends were smiling at me and checking me out.

"What up ladies," I said, casually, with my hand on Rianna's right shoulder. Rianna sat back in her chair. All of her friends was an 8 or better; but Rianna was a 10: long, jet-black hair, a great body, caramel skin, and a beautiful face. Just imagine Kim Kardasian's face and Carmen Electra's body, with smaller breasts. That was how Rianna looked.

"I would make so much money here," Rianna said, while squeezing my ass, "that I could buy this place."

I maneuvered my hips, so that my penis rested on her shoulder. "Well, I'm the manager. Let's see what'cha got; come upstairs and audition. Immediately, she jumped up and followed me to the 2nd floor. Meanwhile, Cedric left his position in the foyer to go inside the lounge.

When Rianna and I reached the second floor, she pushed me on the couch and started to dance. It seemed as if her shirt and bra were off before I hit the leather couch. While Rianna danced in front of me, I began to unbuttoned her jeans and she quickly assisted me.

At that point, I heard someone making their way up the stairs. I thought it was Dale, coming to his 2nd floor office. I froze as the audible footsteps on the spiraled staircase, traveled closer. Fortunately, it wasn't Dale. However, it was Cedric, accompanied by Solandra, Ida, and Rosalie. It seemed as if Rianna's friends had forced Cedric to show them where we were, to cock-block and pull Rianna out of there. But to my relief, it turned out that Cedric was about to have as much fun as I was having with Rianna.

Ida and Rosalie were unoccupied. "So what're you girls gonna do?" I asked them, while Rianna gave me a blow-job. Rosalie answered by kissing Ida. Solandra, on the other hand, was unbuttoning Cedric's pants.

I guess the other girls were freaks, but Rianna was a FREAK. Even after I put the Magnum on (for the less fortunate, a Magnum is an extra large condom) she continued to go down on me. While coming up for air, she noticed a glass door leading to a two story balcony. Completely naked, Rianna ran over to the door and said, "Help me open this." After opening the door, she stepped out onto the balcony. This was one of the many sexual acts I had dreamed of during my high school math class. However, I didn't imagine that I would be two stories above a tourist filled street. Furthermore, I was in plain view of everyone, near a highlighted billboard. But when Rianna bent over the guardrail, anonymity was the last thing on my mind.

Meanwhile, Cedric was inside having sex with Solandra on the pool table. As Ida and Rosalie were kissing, Lathario came upstairs and watched in amazement. Later, Lathario told me that, Rosalie and Ida pulled him to the floor to have a three-some. At that time, I was perspiring from head to toe while Rianna was yelling, "Give it to me harder you bouncer! Screw me harder cutie!" Luckily, Times Square had enough noise to drown out Rianna's blaring cries of joy.

Now don't be fooled: this line of work is not all fun and games. There were times when my occupation did not assist me in reading everyone so clearly. No one is perfect, although it could benefit a hell of a lot of people if they were. I could have used this benefit in October, 1999, when a customer entered the club slightly intoxicated.

"What up my brother?" A tall, thin white guy said, as he walked toward me.

"How are you?" I asked, remaining professional. "The admission is $10." He gave me a $20 bill, which looked as though he balled it up and intended to throw it away. I pressed no sale on the register and gave him his change. "Enjoy," I said. He tepidly nodded his acknowledgement as he entered the lounge.

Less than ten minutes later, I heard a commotion inside. After opening the door, I saw the intoxicated white guy running around the lounge, grabbing and fondling the dancers, as they cursed and threw drinks at him in anger.

In those days, we had to get an ok from a manager to throw anyone out, so I simply scolded him. I told him that if he didn't remain in his seat, I would beat the hell out of him. Everyone relaxed after the guy sat down and behaved himself.

However, about an hour later, he jumped on stage while Kitty was performing. He pulled his penis out and attempted to rape Kitty in front of fifty horrified customers.

With the manager's approval, I reached on the stage and pulled the guy's feet from beneath him. He went crashing to the hard oak-wood stage. "Get the hell outta here!" I snapped at him. After standing up, he jumped off the stage and headed for the exit. It seemed as if the disturbance was finally over.

(Continues...)

Excerpted from Bounceby Eddie A. Bryant III Copyright © 2010 by Eddie A. Bryant III . Excerpted by permission.
All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.
Excerpts are provided by Dial-A-Book Inc. solely for the personal use of visitors to this web site.