It's not that Tristan hated Dollar Drinks at Spin; any excuse to see that cutie Shane behind the bar was actually quite welcome. It was the sheer principle of having to slum it due to financial reasons that made him salty. He'd already blown through most of the money Daddy had wired into his account at Best Buy and Akira. And if any of the A-Gays saw him go into Spin on a Wednesday, he would die. Just die. But a gay has to drink, so here he was, queuing up with the rest of the plebs, waiting to shell out $1 plus tip for a watered down well-Cosmo. He whipped out his Louis Vuitton encased iPhone and called Charlie; he was good to spot him for at least five drinks.

"Hey Tristan. What's up?"

"Where you at, boo? Come dollar drink with yo' mama!"

"That sounds great," chuckled Charlie, "but I'm actually going to this event at Sidetrack. It's a group called We Are Halsted and all the proceeds tonight benefit this queer youth shelter, The Crib."

"Ugh, BENEFIT?!" His dwindling pocketbook motivated Tristan's mock disdain. Sure it seemed like a good cause or whatever, but Tristan was broke.

"Dude, Jess Godwin is playing, and JC Brooks from the Uptown Sound, a bunch of really SICK artists!"

"Ok, first, my name is not dude. And B, why are you talking like that?"

"Um, I dunno. I just... "

"Charlie you're changing. I don't know if I like it. Join me at Spin, before it's too late."

"Wait a minute. You hate Spin."

"Hate is a very strong word, Charles."

"And double wait, what is it that you can't tell... "

Shit. "Oh, there are my Bitches!" Tristan lied, waving to no one. "Gotta go." Click.

Tristan made it inside just in time to beat the $5 cover. Last thing he needed was to waste five drinks on just getting in. It was such an awkward time to be there; hardly anyone was there. He did a fruit loop, attempting to look approachable and fierce at the same time. No one was biting. He sat at the front bar for five minutes, waiting for someone to buy him a drink. He finally gave in and bought himself a vodka cranberry. The shame of it all. If his friends could just see him now. And that's when that bitch Jaison came strumpeting up.

"Bitch, you late!" Tristan was incredulous.

"Seems to me I am right on time," worked Jaison as two bar-light cute boys parted ways for him.

"Buy me a drink!" Jaison knew how to work a dollar drink and was back in five minutes, double fisting for the both of them. Tristan's confidence renewed and palette refreshed, he scanned the scene once more as Jaison trolled it on Grindr.

"Oooh, bitch, this trick is FOINE!" Jaison exclaimed, gleefully Grinding away with this random. Tristan wanted to see, so he snatched Jaison's Mark Jacobs encased iPhone and looked. On the screen, he recognized the orange complexion, the spiky hair, the Jersey Shore wannabe fist pump. He'd seen him before.

"Bitch! That's the fucker who robbed me!"

"Hell no, he is too FOINE! And he mine!"

"Trick, look, I know who I had over my house and I know what fucker dicked me then stole my shit. His ass blocked me on Grindr, but I'd recognize that fucker from his thumbnail. That's HIM!"

"Ooh, girl, whatchu gon' do?"

"We gonna catch him." They slapped five, feeling like Charlie's Angels, minus the Lucy Liu. Grindr said he was only 284 feet away; if he wasn't at the bar, he was close.

Tristan deviously typed to Jersey Shore on Jaison's Grindr: "Let me take you home, boo. I'll ride it off."

The reply came instantaneously: "Hell ya, with your fine ass. Let's go."

"Meet me outside of Spin in five minutes."

Jaison was perfect damsel-in-distress bait as Tristan hid in the shadowy gated alcove next to Spin. Tristan had to keep his cool as he saw this Situation-lookin' motherfucker sidle up to Jaison, being all suave, smelling of Aqua Velva and Aqua Net. Jaison acted coy and demure and as Jersey Shore leaned in for the kiss, Tristan stepped out of the shadows to confront him. Jersey Shore recognized him right away and bolted, Tristan hot in pursuit.

Jersey Shore dodged his way around the small groups of boys and hags on the way to Spin while Tristan just pushed them aside. As Tristan crossed Aldine, he could see that the fucker was gonna try to hide out in Scarlet. Before Jersey Shore could even pull out his ID, Tristan made a flying tackle, pushing him back into the crowd of smokers outside of Scarlet. Straddling Jersey Shore as he lay on his back on the sidewalk in shock, Tristan surprised himself by punching the living daylights out of him. Jersey Shore got a few good punches in, bloodying Tristan's nose and eye, but he was running on too much adrenaline to care.

"Ooh, Bitch, you gotta see it," Jaison said to Efrain on the phone. "Tristan be brawlin'!"

"Hang up on that bitch and call the cops, stupid!" Tristan yelled to Jaison as Jersey Shore ran out of steam. Starting to get winded himself, Tristan used the last bit of strength he had to hold Jersey Shore's wrists down, laying all of his weight on him. As the heat of the moment died down, they both panted for breath, sweaty, bloody and looking at each other dead in the eye. As the police sirens pulled up, Tristan could feel Jersey Shore getting excited underneath him.

"Goddammit," he thought. "Of course the hottest hook-up of the year was the one who robbed me."

###