Welcome To Hell.A.

by Stephens, L.

  Jake looked up to the fading afternoon sun. His obligations had been met, and his life was back in his hands. He loved this feeling more than anything. There was nothing that could beat a lazy day in bed, wasting his free time.

  “I want you to do this job with me, Jake. You feel me?” Daryl asked as they approached the car.

  “I don’t do that shit anymore, man,” Jake said waving goodbye to that idea. “Besides, you know, I’m a lover, not a fighter.”

  “That’s bullshit. I’ve seen you do some really top-notch bruising,” Daryl replied, obviously trying to stroke Jake’s ego. “Hell, you’ve fucking laid out more punks than I have!”

  “That was in the past, brother,” Jake said, stopping to face Daryl. “I’ve moved on. I try to keep my hands in things that don’t require me getting shot at anymore.”

  “I understand, man, it’s just with this kinda short notice, it’s gonna be a bitch to find someone I trust,” Daryl explained with a hint of concern. “I don’t want to have to do this all by my fucking self.”

  “I’m sorry, I can’t help you. But Max is tight,” Jake reassured Daryl. “He’s a rich guy with lots of friends and even more enemies. He has made me a fortune doing some really mundane tasks for him. Keep him happy, and you’ll be rolling in money in no time. That’s why I hooked you up, buddy. I trust you not to let me look like a fuck-wit.”

  “I appreciate that, man. I just got a bad feeling about this,” Daryl insisted as he stopped in the middle of the parking circle. “If I didn’t need the cash, I’d have passed in a fucking second. I fucking hate those mother fuckers. They think they own you, and the worst part about it, they do. There’s nothing worse than having to bow down to an asshole like that.”

  Jake looked to the ground and nodded slowly. He was taking in what Daryl was saying. He created this air of nonchalance and indifference to everyone he came in contact with, but where his friends were concerned, his true friends, he shelved the act and was front and center with his attention.

  “Look D-Dubs, it’s not too late,” Jake said sincerely as he looked back at the mansion. “I’ll give you a loan if you need. It’s no problem. I’ll take the money and the box back to Max right now and cancel the deal. I don’t give a fuck. We can just go get wasted like old times.”

  “I can’t do that to you, man. Besides, I don’t want to owe you money,” Daryl said with a grin. “You’d be calling me every day trying to get that check, even before it’s due. By the way, how much cheese did fucking big foot give you back there?”

  “I don’t know,” Jake said with a wink. “Maybe enough for a nice bottle of scotch and some blow.”

  “Blotch city!” Daryl and Jake suddenly harmonized together.

  They both laughed at one of their old inside jokes. Their friendship was built on that type of shit.

  “Fuck off, man, I know you drinking that fucking Cutty Sark. There was a lot more than a twenty-five-dollar handle in that envelope,” Daryl said trying to grab at the front of Jake’s jeans. “Hand it over!”

  Jake jumped away like a giggling schoolgirl. He had fucking missed Daryl and these interactions. They were such an important part of his life. He was bummed at himself for not being more available. Daryl offered his hand up to shake in an arm wrestle pose, but Jake dodged the hand and went in for a full hug.

  “My Ni—” Jake started with a grin.

  “Don’t you fucking say it!” Daryl spat through clenched teeth.

  It wasn’t because Jake was white, though that was a pretty good reason. Jake knew Daryl hated the N-bomb. His mother had programmed him to hate it by slapping him upside the head every time he had used it in front of her.

  “Just fucking with you,” Jake chuckled.

  Jake had never used the word either. It wasn’t his word. It didn’t feel right to use it. It was akin to bragging. It was empty and awkward, not to mention racist coming out of a white guy.

  “One day you’re gonna fuck with me into giving you an upper cut!” Daryl said.

  “Oooh you think you can take me, mother fucker?” Jake said, taking a boxer stance and dancing around Daryl like Muhammad Ali.

  With the speed of a cobra, Daryl reached through Jake’s defenses, grabbed him by the front of his shirt and brought him close.

  “See? You got this!” Jake said, brushing the imaginary lint off Daryl’s shoulder. “You can call me if it goes south. I’ll be there in a heartbeat.”

  Daryl smiled and let him go. Jake patted himself down, making sure there weren’t more injuries to deal with. The punch Daryl had given him earlier had actually hurt, but he’d never tell Daryl that. Jake darted away towards the Trans Am and leaped over the door and into the driver’s seat.

  “Man, when you going to get these fucking doors fixed?” Daryl asked as he followed suit.

  “What do you mean? I purposely got them welded shut so this was the only way in or out,” Jake said as he giggled. “It’s fucking awesome!”

  With both of them seated in the car Daryl turned to look at Jake.

  “So, sup with those diamonds, bro?” Daryl asked, his eyes practically bulging.

  “Oh, man, it was a whole thing,” Jake said, sticking the key into the ignition. “Some slut got fucked, some diamonds went missing and I hung up my black gloves.”

  Daryl nodded. He knew there was more to the story than Jake was letting on, but he decided he would wait till they were nice and drunk to get the full story out of him.

  @KillingJake old friends are like amazing fucks, you never forget how good they feel. #Broskis

  CHAPTER 15: IMPULSE CONTROL

  “She’s not here. The plane leaves in three hours.”

  It was a simple text message, but it brought a lot of pain to Ryan’s rectum.

  “She’s coming. Don’t sweat it,” was his reply.

  He had confidence that he was going to make good on his promise, but he needed to do some talking first. He was horny, even though an hour earlier the young hopeful from Iowa had given him a mediocre hand job. Ryan had never cum from a hand job before and this girl wasn’t going to change that. She jerked him off for almost twenty minutes before she finally relented to pressure from him and leaned over the car’s center console and put his cock in her mouth. He had cum almost immediately, and he had laughed at the amount of cum he had shot on to her tits. It wasn’t like he was aiming for that area. She had just sensed he was about to cum and pulled his dick out of her mouth before he could blow his load down her throat like he had intended. Afterwards she had told him she’d reward him further if he represented her, but he knew he’d most likely never see her again. He had gotten what he wanted, and he sure as shit wasn’t going to put any more work into her. His new mantra was simple: if you love something, set it free. If it comes back, well, add her to your growing stable of high-class prostitutes.

  His sideline business was the main reason he had stuck it out at F.T.A. so long, even after the reductions in bonuses, the forced move to a smaller office and his name being taken off the company credit card. Ryan still kept coming in every day, even on the weekends. He was just finishing out his contract, using the company’s name and his business card to act as a gateway to actresses young and old to add to his escort service.

  It was common knowledge, even to Ryan, that the partners who owned the company wanted him out. He was already on one strike with them, but they were mostly concerned that there were lawsuits coming their way. They were just waiting for him to really fuck up, so they could get rid of him without having to pay out his contract or his lawsuits. He wasn’t stupid. Ryan knew his time was running short. He just had to finalize a few more deals and sign a couple more cash cows.

  Ryan put the Bluetooth earpiece on his desk into his ear. Then he took his phone and selected the contact of the girl who his client had said was missing and pressed the call button. The phone started ringing, and Ryan instinctively reached into his pants, not even bothering to unbuckle this time. His earpiece was large and
outdated, not because he was trying to be retro or stylish, but because it didn’t involve sex. When it came to sex and general scum-baggery, Ryan was on the cutting edge of technology, but the everyday things in his life like his car and the earpiece were just means to an end.

  “Where are you?” Ryan asked softly. “He’s been messaging me, he’s worried you’re not gonna come.”

  Ryan knew the answer before he had even asked it. She had gotten cold feet. She didn’t tell him that answer, though. She just made up some terrible excuse about her roommate going into cardiac arrest or some shit.

  “So, you’re cancelling on me,” Ryan said with an overly elaborate sigh. “That’s a real pity. This guy is one of my favorites. He’s an absolute sweetheart, very generous and very well connected. You know that’s why I chose you right?”

  This guy was neither of those things. He was wealthy, but he got fucked in his divorce and was forced to pay two-thirds of his monthly check to finance his ex-wife’s love of high fashion and young cock—young cock that Ryan also provided. He couldn’t charge much for that, though. Young cock was dime-a-dozen.

  Ryan could sense she was starting to regret her cold feet. She was downgrading the cardiac arrest to heartburn. These girls always needed a reminder of what they were doing this for, what they could do with the cash and that they had nothing better going on anyway.

  “Hon, he’s single as the day he was born. Why you making this so difficult for me?” Ryan whined. “You’re not going on a date with me, remember that. This guy is going to fly you to Vegas, put you up in a nice hotel, wine you, dine you and buy you dessert. It’s going to be the most fun and exciting weekend you’ve ever had. He wants to be with you, he chose you and I didn’t even show him a picture. I just told him about your personality and how clever you were. He wants to be challenged, it stimulates him more than anything else.”

  Needless to say, all of this wasn’t true either. This guy wanted to fuck. He had picked her photo out from Ryan’s little book of models, and Ryan had also showed him the audition he had put her through as well. She was pretty and compliant and that was what the guy wanted, not clever conversation.

  “You better get moving,” Ryan said as he scrolled through an Excel document. “You gotta get through TSA and traffic is gonna suck.”

  The Excel document wasn’t excessive. It was comprised of twenty names and phone numbers of all the women who he farmed out to the various men who needed some company. He knew she was coming around, but he needed a backup plan. This guy had already paid up front, and Ryan had immediately converted the cash to Bitcoin and sent it to the USB wallet that he had secreted in his top draw at work.

  “You need me to order you an Uber?” Ryan asked. “I can just take it out of your check.”

  She was already packed and dressed. She just needed a little shove out the door, but he wasn’t going to pay for it. He took a fifty percent cut of the small-time girls like this one and thirty percent of the big-name ones. The problem with running a service that specialized in actresses, was that they needed to be recognizable or be in something of note so you could sell it. Ryan had to run the tightrope of getting his stable into enough things so it was worth the extra cash his clients paid, but at the same time they couldn’t get so big they would actually get a career out of it. Reality TV was the best bet for the type of notoriety Ryan required. They were usually one-hit wonders that became increasingly desperate for fame and money the further the light dimmed, and that’s where Ryan would make his move.

  “Awesome, babe!” Ryan said with a smile when she finally agreed. “You’ll have a great fucking time. Put twenty bucks on black for me.”

  Ryan pulled his hand out of his pants and pressed the button on his earpiece to hang up. He wanted to cum, but he didn’t want to force it. He wanted a good reason. He wanted to make a deal.

  CHAPTER 16: MOM TIME

  I’m no good as a mother, Lynne thought. I never was. I deserve all of this. It’s all my fault, all these choices were mine, no one else’s. I’m no good as a mother. I never was.

  “Looks like they are becoming fast friends,” she said in her thick southern drawl. “You ever thought of getting Ava into the movie business?”

  “No,” Lynne said without losing eye contact with Ava. “We’re just here visiting.”

  “You know, I could get you a discount with our guy,” she whispered. “He’s getting my Becca some high-end exposure. He told me he only reserves that sort of work for the cream of the crop. I’m not sure Ava falls into that category but I could put in a good word, if you like.”

  Lynne didn’t even bother responding to the bloated carcass that wouldn’t stop blathering to her with her bourbon-laced breath. Her daughter, Becca, was about the same age as Ava, and, as a victim of circumstance, Lynne had become the poolside companion of the Jabba-The-Hutt-looking slug whose name was Rachel. They were staying in the room across from Lynne and Ava in the high-rise hotel in downtown Los Angeles that Rick had put her up in. She had contemplated asking Rachel to look after Ava while she did her shoot, but five minutes of dealing with her and her daughter had made it easy to forget that notion. She now wished she had a little bit more patience when dealing with inferior species. Becca was almost as obnoxious as her mother, and even though she was not much older than Ava she clearly wore the pants in the family. To be fair, Rachel was as dumb as a pile of bricks, so someone had to lead the charge. They had come to L.A. so Becca could to do some auditions and become the next child star, but the auditions she had set up were all paid for in advance. This was common practice in L.A., Orlando and New York, casting agencies luring in hicks from all around the country with a scam that offered fame and fortune. Lynne was used to meeting people like this. Starved for fame themselves, they were now hoping to get that lost fame through their child.

  Lynne sighed at her own hypocrisy. She was nowhere near as good a mother as Rachel. She was the worst fucking mother in the entire fucking universe. She wished it had been the age-old conundrum of a child walking in on their parents having sex. That would have been a walk in the park compared to this, but this wasn’t even on the same planet, let alone galaxy. This was the most heinous, egregious, fucked up, scarred-for-life childhood memory you could wish on anyone. Lynne knew, for Ava, nothing would ever compare to the time she walked in on her mother getting vigorously slammed in the ass by a stranger, while a small crowd of men watched on and furiously beat their meat waiting for a chance to take over.

  She had consoled Ava while wearing just a towel in the dingy bathroom of the studio and she had told her they were just acting, just like on TV, but she could see Ava was not buying what she was selling. The worst part of it all, if it could get any worse, was having to finish the scene after Ava had finally calmed down enough so Janice could take her back out to the reception area. Lynne had pleaded with Rick to finish the scene another time, but he had threatened to not pay her and even call child services to boot. Times had definitely changed. He used to be like a protecting force in her life, and now just like everyone else he had gotten what he wanted, and she was left with nothing but a bad taste.

  Six years earlier, she had sat on the toilet looking at the positive home pregnancy test and the next twenty years flashed through her mind: marriage, birth, a three-bedroom house with a garden, pre-school. It all seemed so much better than the life she was living now. For once she was living a life with a semblance of normality. She was dating a used car salesman from Reseda, and even though he was married, she had stopped doing porn and porn-related things. Feeling like she could finally turn her back on that life with her new man. It wasn’t to be, though. The minute she had told him the good news about their little miracle child, he had stopped taking her calls. What was supposed to be the most wonderful moment in her life had immediately turned sour. For a brief instant, she had been complacent, forgotten there was always something lurking around the corner to kick her in the tits.

  † Fucked over by a used car s
alesman from the valley. Who would have guessed it? †

  Lynne didn’t live in L.A. anymore, and she didn’t go by Lynne either. Samantha, as she called herself now, lived in a quiet suburban town outside of Denver and had done so for the past five years. After she had found out she was pregnant and had dealt with the bad news she’d be raising her child alone, she did what any self-sacrificing mother would do. She got back to the only thing she had ever known to be stable and performed in as many sex scenes as she could, mostly for Skin Visions, but she secretly shot some private ones for herself, bankrolling the venture with her own money. This was common practice in the industry, stockpile clips then announce your retirement. Unseen clips would increase in value and become your retirement fund. After four months of fucking and sucking it was becoming obvious she was pregnant, but by then she had created a substantial nest egg of content, so she didn’t have to resort to full on pregnancy porn, even though, technically, that’s what she was doing. She sold her two-bedroom condo in Sherman Oaks and boarded the plane with a one-way ticket to Denver International.

  Despite the self-enforced abstinence from the industry, offers started flooding in from strip clubs wanting appearances from her. There were literally offers so lucrative, she couldn’t refuse. So, a month after the best thing that had ever happened to her was born, Lynne was travelling around the country doing feature dancing at various backwater strip clubs for good money, and no one in her new life was the wiser. She would leave Ava with her aunt for the weekend and be back by Sunday night, ready for another five days of anonymous life. The plan wasn’t to keep doing it. The plan was to fade to black, disappear, become someone else, marry someone normal, find love and shield Ava from the darkness she was born into. But that wasn’t meant to be.

  Five years later, she was back. They had all said she’d be back, and that was the worst. Lynne herself had seen adult performers both male and female leave for new lives, only to come back within months with their tail between their legs. Leaving the industry for five years was something to write home about, and to some degree she was proud, but technically she never really left. After a couple years of the feature dance circuit, she had converted her study into a webcam studio, waiting till she had put Ava to bed to get online and make some money doing webcam shows to supplement her part time job as a real estate agent. Life in Colorado had been humdrum, and she missed the excitement that she had told herself was not for her. There had been a few close calls with porn fans here and there, but she had mostly turned the tables on the guys by calling them creeps. Every close call brought her energy and one step closer to returning to her old life. She had never realized how much she yearned for the spotlight until it would suddenly find her again. She did find love, but she would always find a way to ruin it, and with every broken relationship the desperation to return to the only thing she could rely on would increase and then came the offers.