by Paul Slatter
The rest of the Indians stared back at him, not knowing now what to do since their spokesman was unconscious. Then he said to them all, “If you’ve come about Rasheed, then tell his mum and dad I’m sorry. He got hit by some truck that was going too fast.”
Then one of the Indians said to him, “Diamond was there—he says you killed him.”
“Well you can tell Diamond when he wakes up that he’s a cunt, and if he keeps bothering me, I’ll start getting really pissed. So, unless one of you have some sort of gun or knife and are wanting to use it on me, I suggest you go fuck off because I want to clean my bathroom and after I don’t want to be thinking about you lot down here getting all cold and hungry whilst I’m in my bedroom chowing down on this hot little piece of white skinned perfection I’ve got coming over.”
And that was that.
******
Chendrill kissed Dan’s mother hard on the lips and felt her body move and heard her gasp as his dick pushed right up inside her, hitting the top.
He’d brought Dan back despite the young man’s protests, but it was hard to concentrate on making love to the kid’s mum when he knew somehow Dan was more than capable of beating the Ferrari’s security system. How was he doing it though? he thought, as he kept one ear out for the door and the other on his new woman—who he was getting to like more and more as the days passed, the way she looked at him, the way she made him smile.
He moved his head away from her lips and began to kiss her neck just as he had earlier when he’d started chasing her around the room with that look in his eye. Slowly he moved his mouth up and gently kissed her ear as he slid in and out of her, her hands moving along his spine, unconsciously digging her nails into his back and ass as he began to pound. It was quiet downstairs. Dan, full of food, would probably also be full of sleep. If not, the broom would have been hitting the ceiling now.
Chendrill moved his mouth back to hers and began to kiss her passionately, feeling her small toned legs wrapping themselves around his back as she pushed herself back onto him as he began to fuck her hard. Her breathing heavy through her nose, him hearing the groan she always made when she was about to feel herself begin to come, her legs tight around him now, lifting herself up to meet him, feeling her wetness as he pounded and ground himself into her, kissing her, feeling himself filling her, reaching her top and her squeezing his cock with her muscles making Chendrill want to come himself, feeling it build more and more as he became thicker inside her. And as Chendrill pushed himself deep inside Dan’s mother, Dan pushed the Ferrari away from the curb, one hand on the door seal and the other on the steering wheel, the car door open without the alarm sounding—the shoe box full of infrared electronic circuitry all soldered up and held together by tape sitting on the passenger seat. He reached the end of the road and got in at exactly the same time as his mother came, calling out without control and making Chendrill feel like a man who was big and strong and could do anything he wanted right there and then, anything he wanted now—except use his car.
Dan turned the steering wheel and felt its leather as it spun back through his hands as he pulled away along the main road that headed into town. Yeahhhh, he was back driving the machine again, hot rod motherfucking Ferrari, with no loud shirt wearing big fucking minder in tow giving him daddy lectures just because he was screwing his mother.
Putting his foot to the floor, he screamed the car through the gears and stared up at a poster of himself looking good. He said to himself, ‘Hello handsome,’ as he felt his nose, still broken and giving him breathing difficulties. Thinking of Mazzi Hegan standing there, having a shit fit about his stuff being all messed up, then pulling out his camera like one of those crazy war correspondent types. Except Mazzi wasn’t crazy, he was talented.
He pulled the Ferrari up on the road just outside McDonalds and Mel got in. She was talking to him again now, the business of him putting his head up her skirt sorted. She’d shown up at the last minute as he was about to leave, then stayed whilst Dan had knocked back another cheeseburger and said, “I’m very sorry I acted inappropriately towards you in that club and would like to ask your forgiveness.”
Just as Chendrill had told him to.
Now she was back and the night was young. They hit Robson Street like he used to and cruised it a dozen times, revving up the engine like an idiot in the process. Then he did the same around Yaletown, spinning the wheels hard outside Slave’s offices for good measure. Then they hit a club.
The Tip Top Club was good, owned by an East Indian by the name of Rasheed, who’d just recently been killed in a bizarre fashion out on some road that led out of town. The club manager posing for a photograph with the hottest model in town at the moment, said, “It’s a shame he’s no longer around, he’d have been very happy to have had you here at his club.”
As he let Dan and his girl in for free and sorted out the best VIP table there, the manager told him drinks and food were on the house.
Fuck me, Dan thought, this was good—all the girls staring at him now, giving him the look. Fuck me, and some were hot, not Marsha hot, but hot. Mel, though, was hotter and tonight the chances were high that, one way or the other, he was going all the way.
He picked up his drink, knocked it back and ordered another four, two each, and some fries and wings.
Then he started dancing, playing at first with Mel as she watched him from the table moving the way his mother had as a child, fluid, seamless as if the music was tailored just for her—and now him, moving through the crowd as though she was the only one there, not looking at another as they flirted and stared. Mel was his and no other; he would grab her by the hand soon and make her feel special, take her out there on the dance floor and hold her, dance slowly in time regardless of the music, love her and make her love him just as Chendrill had told him to earlier, as Dan had sat there listening for once with his mouth full of fries.
“You two are the only ones in the room, dance and play, but ignore the rest—no one else matters—then kiss her softly and in the end when she wants to she’ll take you to her bed, not the other way around.”
And Dan did, holding her and dancing the night away with no thought for any other, no girl who stared or caught his hand as he went to the washroom or waited for him as he’d returned, offering him herself with her tight skirt and big tits.
“This is what you do, Dan,” Chendrill had said as they drove back from McDonalds, not knowing it was going to be quite as soon as he’d expected or that, as he was speaking, Dan was planning to leave the broom and let him get right into it with his mum so he could make the night-time rendezvous in style.
And when the time came, as they began to leave the club, the manager had offered the club’s suite upstairs to them both so they could unwind and come back. Once up there, Mel had led him to the bed, slowly undressing herself, laying herself down for him to take her like the man he now was. This time with no guide dog biting him, or supermodel ego or crazy murals on the ceiling to contend with, everything was all laid out for him. This sexy young blond who worked at McDonalds, who used to smile and serve him fries, was his, holding out her hands, beckoning him towards the bed touching his shoulders gently, pulling him towards her, smelling her scent as his face grew close to hers, feeling her lips touch his, her hands on his neck, on his back; and then, feeling the panic rise up in him as she reached down lower, touching him as his body began to shake at the realization that he was there and was about to make love, as an unstoppable flow came across him, the release of uncontrollable, unstoppable muscles tightening as the ejaculation process that was the curse of so many young men started too soon somewhere deep in his loins and hit home with a bang.
Then as he gave out the tiniest of a whimper he heard Mel say, “It’s okay, it’s okay.”
Then Mel’s phone rang and it was Chendrill telling her it wasn’t okay. He said, “Tell him please to bring the car back now or I’m going to come over there and kill him.”
Chapter Fiftee
n
The next day, the papers said it all. Front page was another picture of Dan with his girl, holding her on the dance floor and next to it another of the world’s most beautiful woman crying. Underneath read the line:
‘Love conquers beauty’
“There’s nothing I can do,” said Sebastian through the phone to Marsha’s agent as she lay in bed with another sexy model guy, this time from someplace she couldn’t remember in Argentina.
“Well could you try? She’s very upset—she’s on the phone to me as we speak.”
Sebastian was in a fluster. Gill had control of some of the best, but what could he do? If it was true and the guy was in love—and from the pictures it certainly looked that way—it was out of his hands. So, he said, “You can’t stop the world from turning Gill; we both know that.”
He heard her moan slightly and reply, “Come on Sebastian. We both know the only people these types truly love are themselves, so please be a sweetheart and do what you can with him—if you don’t, I’ll let it slip he’s into guys and that’ll shake it up a bit.”
Goodness me, Sebastian thought, that was all he needed, the bitch threatening him with that, no better than that guy who’d been chasing down Patrick—the poor love.
He put down the phone and then picking it up again, called Chendrill and said into his answering service, “Chuck darling it’s Sebastian, call me quick it’s an emergency—we’ve got another one of those blackmailer type people on to us.”
Fuck me not again, Chendrill thought as he listened to the message, all tired from not sleeping trying to track down Dan, the prick. Sitting down on his sofa, he called him back and straight away asked, “Who is it this time and what do they want?”
Sebastian took a deep breath, saying, “Gill Banton, Marsha’s agent.”
“Sorry—she’s blackmailing us?” Chendrill stayed silent for the moment, thinking, then continued, “Why?”
Chendrill’s stomach turned as Sebastian said, “It’s all over the papers Chuck, this morning, with that girl in another club.”
“Doing what?”
“In love with that girl he was with before, the one from McDonalds.”
Thank God.
“So, he’s young.”
“Yes, but it’s hurting her client, so Marsha’s agent said she’s going to put it out there that he’s gay.”
“I thought you guys loved outing people?”
“That’s Mazzi’s thing, not mine. He used to say you were. Especially after I gave you his car.”
“Really?”
“Oh yes! And there’s pictures of Dan driving it again in the papers.”
“Don’t worry—he won’t be doing it again.”
“How do you know?”
“Because I thumped him in the eye.”
Sebastian was silent for a second. The guy was being paid to stop that kind of thing happening, not do that kind of thing, so he said, “I don’t think your idea of looking after someone is quite the same as mine, Chuck. Is it bad?”
It was.
Dan had hit the end of their road, turned off the engine, and coasted. He parked the car, quietly opened the front door and snuck in, crept down the staircase in the darkness, opened the door to his basement room as slowly as possible to stop it creaking, got inside, closed the door and slid on the dead bolt he used to keep his mother out when she was in a rage or when he was knocking one out into one of her fluffy socks. He turned around to see Chendrill standing there in the darkness, his Hawaiian shirt blending in perfectly with Dan’s Metallica poster on the wall. Then a fist came down from the man’s solid frame, delivering a well-deserved love tap to the cheek, just enough to let him know Chendrill wouldn’t have the piss taken out of him twice by Dan or anyone. Sometimes words were not enough.
******
There was silence for the moment, then Sebastian took a deep breath and said, “Well Mazzi won’t like it.”
“Mazzi broke his nose, that’s why we’re talking now.”
And Sebastian said, “Dan’s a human being, Chuck; hitting him is not a sport.”
“If he keeps stealing the Ferrari, Sebastian, and he’s not listening, he’s going to get a thump, Sebastian, or would you prefer next time I just call the police?”
“No don’t do that please—has he got a shiner?”
He did, a big one. “I’ve seen worse.”
“Much worse?”
“Not really.”
Shit, Sebastian thought. Then Chendrill said, “So what are we going to do about this agent who’s got you in her sights now?”
******
Dan sat in his basement room feeling sorry for himself. Every time he got with this chick from McDonalds, something went wrong; but when he broke it all down, every time he managed to get with any chick he had problems, and the common denominator was him. There you go, we can’t all be perfect, he thought. He was still on his way to richness and stardom, even if it was fleeting.
He got up and looked in the mirror at his eye. It was bruised, Fuck, that big ass prick ape of a man had a hard punch, saying out loud as he turned around looking to the ceiling on the way back to bed, “You were lucky.”
And Chendrill was, Dan could have hit back and broke both his hands on Chendrill’s skull—then where would they be? Dan not able to work, get up there on stage and look good because he had a bad sperm build up problem now that he was unable to masturbate.
Then his phone rang. It was Marsha and she was crying.
“Dan?”
“Who is this?”
“Marshaaa.”
Dan stayed silent for a moment.
“What’s up?”
“I can’t sleep.”
Dan looked at the clock. It was a quarter after midday. He knew the problem.
“Yeah.”
“I saw the pictures with you and that slut again, in the club last night, you were kissing her.”
Fuck me, how, Dan thought. He hadn’t seen anyone taking photos in the club. Marsha carried on, “And of you looking cool with her in your Ferrari.”
Dan felt his eye and said, “And?”
“And I thought we were in love?”
Dan stayed quiet, giving this one some thought, then said, “Sorry?”
Marsha continued, “We’re in love Dan, I told the press.”
Then he simply said, “The last thing I remember you telling me was that I was an asshole.”
“Girls say that, but they don’t mean it.”
“Oh.”
“So, I’m coming up soon, Patrick’s putting it together. He told me you couldn’t wait to see me.”
“Who?”
“Patrick, he’s taken control of me, you know not as an agent, you know with personal things because Buffy’s an idiot. He’s so cool, you should meet him.” Dan was confused now.
“You just said I already know him.”
“Yeah.”
“I already know him, but I should meet him because he’s cool?”
“Yeah.”
Fuck me, Dan thought, this girl was hot but not in the brain. Then she said, “Buffy thinks he’s cool too.”
“Buffy?” Dan said, “Is she hot too?”
“No, she likes cheesecake, and she’s stupid. She went swimming in a blue bikini that didn’t fit at this party on the weekend and embarrassed the shit out of me, and she paid for a private jet for my luggage to be sent from your place to that place where the Queen lives just because she forgot to pack it.”
“Oh.”
“Yeah, she likes him too, but she’s stupid, that’s why Patrick’s helping out now.”
“Oh.”
“And we’re coming up and going for a meal at the fish restaurant with you and Sebastian, he’s so cool. I love his little dog.”
“We are?”
“Yeah, Patrick says you and him love it there.”
“We do?”
“Yeah you like it—maybe you and I could go out after, go dancing, you know like you were yester
day with that bitch.”
Dan stayed quiet for the moment, thinking. He was sitting in his basement room of his mother’s house with a shiner from her new boyfriend, finding it impossible to get laid for some reason, and for the second time in his life the girl who was recently voted the most beautiful woman on the planet was coming on to him; not only that, she was jealous of the chick he’d been out with who worked at McDonalds. Then still feeling the soreness around his eye with his fingers, he said, “Sure, the club’s really great, the manager there lets me use the presidential suite upstairs, it’s really cool you know, to go up there after and wind down.”
“Wow, cool, maybe we should go and hang out, dance a bit and then go play some more alone upstairs,” said Marsha, as she oozed sex down the phone to Dan, who was now looking down at his dick getting hard in his pants.
Then he said, “The person who owns it just died though, got hit in the head by a truck, but they say he was a really nice guy.”
“Cool, I can’t wait to meet him.”
“Really?”
“Yeah.”
“The guy’s dead, Marsha.”
And Marsha said back. “Yeah but maybe we can see him when he gets out of the hospital—you know people can get better.”
Chapter Sixteen
Gill Banton didn’t want to do it, but there was little left in her arsenal. All it would take was an anonymous call to a reporter friend to tell him Dan was in the closet. But if she did, it could all backfire that her client was dating a gay guy. Sebastian was a good man, she knew that, and how he lasted being such a good man in the world she lived in she could never understand. He did good work—sometimes great work—and if she pissed him off, then he may never book up a client she represented again, even if they were right for the spot. He’d do that.
