Title: Chippendales Are Us

Author: Mistress Lrigtar

Disclaimer: The A-Team is property of Stephen Cannell and company. I'm just having a little fun with the colorful characters he created.

Chapter One

The bar was nice enough, as far as bars go. The shelves behind the counter were lined with varying brands of liquor, wine, and beer they had available. There were even a few imports. At the back of the establishment was a stage where local bands played on the weekends.
There were even a few posters plastered in the front window advertising upcoming events at the bar.

Face hefted a stack of similar posters and his briefcase in one hand and lugged a box of some sort behind him with the other. He had chosen this bar after much deliberation and investigation. It wasn't too central a location to attract undue attention, but central enough to have a steady clientele and profit.

He walked over to the bar. The barman was polishing glasses, getting ready for the Happy Hour crowd and eyed Face.

"Good afternoon, sir," Face said, placing his posters on the bar top and setting the box on the floor by his feet.

"Afternoon," the barkeep replied. "What can I do you for?"

Face smiled and held out his hand. "I'm Templeton Peck."

"Harry Roberts," the bartender replied, not offering his hand in return. "If you don't want a drink, we ain't open."

Face's grin broadened. "Mr. Roberts, I see you are a man who means business. That is very good to hear. Very good."

"What exactly do you want, mister?" Harry said, shelving the glass and placing both hands on the bar to peer closer at Face. "You ain't one of them Chippendales are you?"

Face looked around, just to make sure there wasn't anybody else in the bar. "Ah, excuse me?"

"You know? One of them dancers." The bartender said.

"Right, I know what you are talking about and no, I am not," Face said and smoothed his tie nervously.

"Shame, 'cause they bring in good money."

"Well, if you would like to bring in some extra cash, Mr. Roberts, I have just the thing for you," Face said and plopped the box he had been carrying on the counter.

"What's that contraption? Looks like a speaker with a tape deck," Harry said, examining the box.

Face beamed at his interest. "This is a new invention straight from Japan. It's a Karaoke machine."

"A carrot what?" Harry asked.

"Karaoke, sir," Face said and pointed to the darkened stage. "It allows people to get on that very stage you have there and sing their hearts out for a small cover charge."

"Who'd pay to do that?" Harry asked incredulous.

"People would pay. With the right advertising, I can have this place packed wall to wall with people clamoring to sing 'Jesse's Girl'. You could make a small fortune."

"A small fortune, huh? And what do you get out of this deal?" Harry asked skeptically.

"Me? Merely a percentage," Face replied. He pulled some paperwork out of his briefcase.

Harry Roberts looked Face over with interest and glanced at the paperwork. He then pulled out some similar paperwork of his own.

"Your proposition sounds kind of interesting. I'd be willing to give it a try if you could do me a favor in exchange."

Face looked at Harry and down at what looked like some kind of contract. "What's this?"

"I had an act supposed to come through here cancel on me," the barkeep said. "I'll have to refund tons of money. Won't be good for my business. So, I am mighty interested in your machine, but only if you can make right this act."

"What was the act?" Face asked, mildly curious.

"Some performers were supposed to come do something called the full monty. Had my lady clientele in a tizzy, let me tell you. Did I mention some of the beauties that come in here?"

"Um, no you didn't," Face said. "So, you just need some performers?"

"Yep, just a few men," Harry drawled. "Seems a fair deal – I use your machine and you get me an act for the full monty. You'd clear $20,000 easy with that act. In fact, if you and a few of your friends did it you could have all that money for yourselves. Ain't much to it and all."

"$20,000?" Face choked, surprised.

"Sure thing," Harry said, and shoved his contract at Face. "You game?"

"Mr. Roberts, you have a deal," Face said.

"Alright then. If you would just print your name here," Harry said, pointing to a line at the top. "State that you and some of your associates will be performing here. And sign at the bottom."

Face signed his name with a flourish. There was no way he'd make twenty grand with the Karaoke machine.

Harry Roberts signed Face's contract as well.

"You think you can get me the act by Saturday?" Harry asked.

"Um, yeah, I know some people I can ask," Face replied, wondering whom he was going to ask.

"Alright. We'll try out your machine on Friday then. Stop by tomorrow and we'll work out the money details," Harry said.

Face headed for the door and realized there was one other question he needed to ask.

"Mr. Roberts, what exactly is the full monty?"

"Male strippers, Mr. Peck. See you tomorrow." Harry smiled at him and went back to polishing his glasses.

-Later that evening-

The last of the customers had left Harry's place and it was getting near closing time. He was wiping down the bar when two men dressed in dark suits came in.

They walked over to him and sat on stools in front of him.

"Long time, Harry," the taller of the two said.

"What do you want, Freddie?" Harry asked.

"Where's the money you owe us?"

"I don't have it yet. Come back after this weekend and I will," Harry said, reaching for the gun he kept hidden by the cash register.

The second thug lunged over the bar and grabbed Harry's arm, twisting it behind his back. "Don't even think about it."

Harry cried out in pain and Freddie leaned in.

"Finnegan's tired of waiting," Freddie said. "I'd hate for anything bad to happen to that pretty girl you have going to UCLA. Since you don't have the money, we'll be using your place for some business transactions."

Harry gritted his teeth. "You can't use my business as a front!"

"I can do whatever I want until you pay Finnegan what you owe him. You gamble and lose, you pay."

"I'm just trying to put my daughter through college," Harry said.

"Then you won't mind if we use your establishment," Freddie said. "Cal, let him go."

Cal shoved Harry into the shelves behind his bar. Harry's outthrust hands broke the glass shelves, cutting him and causing bottles to crash to the floor around him.

Freddie and Cal ambled out the door, chuckling.

Harry cradled his cut hands, trying to wrap them with the towel he'd been using earlier. Things were spiraling out of control. He hoped that Peck character didn't back out. He needed the money this weekend was bound to generate more than ever.