Trust Me

by Paul Slatter

  Campbell Ewes, who had an Oscar, saying as he sat in the back of Chendrill’s Aston Martin, “You’re a lucky guy driving me about in this machine for a living hey! They ever let you take it home?”

  Chendrill sitting there behind the wheel, thinking it’d be the last time he drove this guy anywhere and answering back, “Yeah, I’m a lucky guy.”

  “I got a black guy like you back home, except he has a hat and a uniform, wouldn’t have him wearing your get up though. After this project I think I’ll get him an Aston, but I don’t know about the shirt.”

  Chendrill sat there, the guy in the back asking sarcastically what the speed limit was as Chendrill moved quickly through the traffic onto Granville Street. Chendrill chewing through what the man in the back, who’d expected him to lift his matching crocodile skin suitcases and golf clubs into the trunk and not saying thanks afterward, had said before, ‘I got a black guy like you back home,’ the pretentious prick, talking like a slave owner. Then giving it to Chendrill about the shirt he’d just ordered up online.

  Fuck off—was what Chendrill wanted to say, so as soon as the man got all passive aggressive with him again about not stopping on an amber light, saying, “I heard you guys up here in Canada took traffic lights a little more seriously than the Mexicans,” Chendrill did just that.

  The director saying straight back, “I’m sorry?”

  Chendrill staying quiet as the director who liked to watch his trophy wife deep throating him in the mirror said, “Did you just tell me to fuck off?”

  Looking at him in the mirror, nodding, and smiling as he did, Chendrill said, “Yep, sure did.”

  Moving back away from the centre console and half leaning back in the brown leather seat, Campbell Ewes said, “You know who you’re talking to?”

  “Yep.”

  “I’ll have your fucking job. This’ll be the last time you drive this car.”

  With one eye on the road, Chendrill watched the man growing more and more red in the rear of the car as they went, sitting on one hand, rubbing his neck with the other, pulling out his phone, dialing then hanging up and eventually saying, “You’re fucked, you speak to me like that… You know who I am? I want to speak with your boss right now… This’ll be the last airport run you do, that’s for certain.”

  Liking what he’s hearing, smiling in the mirror, and hearing the man ask again if Chendrill knew who he was, Chendrill answered, “Yep.”

  When they reached the offices of Slave, Chendrill got out and opened the trunk, then walked away without speaking, leaving the new director in the street with his crocodile skin bags and clubs open in the Aston’s trunk.

  Hearing the man calling out to him as he crossed the road, “What about the hotel?”

  Yeah what about it, Chendrill thought, as he entered the glass front door to Slave and skipped the elevator, hearing Sebastian say as he walked back into Sebastian’s corner office, “That was quick Chuck, is he at the hotel?”

  Sitting down on the sofa and almost hitting the dog, Chendrill answered back calmly, “No, he’s here, downstairs; he wants to talk to you.”

  Sebastian smiled and walked to the window, saying as he went, “Well the man’s keen, it’s a good sign—how nice.”

  Then Sebastian looked outside and saw the man at the back of the Aston red in the face and struggling with his bags. Minutes later he was upstairs and puffing his fat gut along the corridor, asking noisily for Sebastian String. Sebastian met him outside, disarming him with his warmth and a smile and taking him into his office.

  The director, who had an Oscar, and had given a fantastic speech about Darfur after he’d received it, even though he couldn’t give a fuck and had never been there, calming as he went, hearing Sebastian ask, “Everything okay, Campbell? Did you have a good flight up?”

  The director saying as he walked through the door, “All was fine until your man picked me up, then told me to fuck off. The guy was driving like a lunatic and I asked him to slow down because he kept running red lights. I said he needed to be more responsible like my guy in LA. Wouldn’t take me to the hotel, wouldn’t help with my bags, wouldn’t do a thing. The man is rude, arrogant and to be honest, I can’t see myself being here if he’s still around.”

  Chendrill sat there to the side in Sebastian’s office listening to the heavily exaggerated string of events, letting the guy’s mouth run. Standing there with his mouth open, Sebastian looked to Chendrill sitting behind him with Fluffy on his lap not giving a shit.

  Looking back to the director, Sebastian said, “Oh!”

  The director stood there in front of him, letting his temper build again, now with his hands on his hips, not letting up and throwing his weight about before he’s even said hello, saying, “Quite simple, bottom line, he’s not driving my Aston anymore. If I see him again, I’m out.”

  And as sweet as can be, as the director turned shocked to see Chendrill sitting behind him, Sebastian said, “The car’s not for you Campbell, it’s Chuck’s personal car. He was doing you a favour—let me call you a cab for the airport.”

  “Sorry?” the director said, Sebastian’s voice so soft he wasn’t sure if he’d heard him properly.

  Sebastian said it again, “Chuck owns the Aston, it’s his vehicle—you’re not happy so I’ll have someone call you a cab for the airport.”

  Half an hour later, he was gone, picked up in an Aston by a guy in a Hawaiian, dropped off by a Sikh in a Hyundai wearing a Hawaiian.

  Sebastian was pissed. As he walked back and forth in his office, he said, “Chuck, I don’t have you here to cause trouble.” Chendrill now leaning with his ass against the window like he liked to, feeling guilty and watching Sebastian, who for the first time was getting really upset.

  “No, you have me here to stop trouble, not do pickups.”

  “All I wanted was a favour.”

  “What’s wrong with that woman Belinda?”

  “Belinda’s a man Chuck, we all thought he wore a dress.”

  Chendrill already knowing this and half laughing as he said, “I thought you were all cool with that around here.”

  Sebastian moved back behind his desk and sat down. It was obvious there was going to be no taming this wild beast of a man. How many times had he tried, and the truth was he was half expecting a call from the airport telling him that Chendrill was a no show and had gone AWOL. As things had turned out, Sebastian would have been better off with that scenario, as now he needed to find a new director, and, even worse, tell Adalia her friend and ‘favourite’ director was heading back south.

  He said, “Not in that sense, Chuck. We just thought Belinda was a girl because Belinda’s a girl’s name.”

  “Not in the Punjab it seems,” Chendrill said, happy Sebastian had sat down as he was wearing out the rug and making him and the dog dizzy. He carried on steering Sebastian further away from the subject of the director he’d just managed to piss off, saying, “I always knew she was a he. Anyway, I thought guys were your thing?”

  And as soon as the words left his lips, he saw Sebastian’s face redden as Mazzi Hegan walked in the room without knocking, ran his fingers through his frosted tips, and said, “Was that Campbell Ewes I just saw come in?”

  With Sebastian saying back quickly, “Yes, and that was Mr. Ewes going out as well. Chuck told him to fuck off on the way over.”

  “That’s what you get when you use the help,” Mazzi Hegan looked at Chendrill, who still could care less, as Chendrill looked back at Hegan’s get up—the guy all in purple except for perfectly ironed green socks.

  Looking away, Mazzi said on the fly, “Well that’s great, well done, two for two on directors coming in and straight out again. So far no one’s made it further than the office. If your friend’s so clever, then maybe he should direct.”

  How are your feet? Chendrill thought, remembering the last time he’d picked up Hegan and then kicked him out the car barefoot. Watching Hegan walk away down the corridor, he heard the man spit out, �
��But he’d probably do better with traffic,” as he reached the safety of his office. What am I doing here? Chendrill thought, I used to be a police officer, a revered detective. Now he was being spoken down to by egotistical maniacs.

  And as though Sebastian could read his mind, he heard him say, “I’ve told you before, Chuck, everyone who works here is of value, even Mazzi. And you Chuck are more valuable to me than that Oscar wielding prick I just sent back to LA for coming in here, not saying hello, and throwing his weight about. And as you know I’m not one to lie, the Aston’s yours, I was going to put a nice bow on it for you on your birthday, but there you go, you’ve gone and ruined your own surprise. Let that be your punishment for being belligerent and not holding your tongue.”

  Chapter Seven

  Suzy stood in the bay window of the house Sebastian had bought her after he’d found her crying on the park bench he liked to sit at along the seawall. She had been worrying about her life and this angel of a man sent down from the heavens was there to help her. She looked at all the new furniture he’d bought her and the TV, which her husband, who’d been out late, then up all night watching movies, was addicted to. The guy upstairs in bed sleeping, when he should be out at work now that she no longer could because of the colostomy bag attached to her stomach.

  She needed to get into a new line of work, she thought, as she moved and looked at herself in the mirror Sebastian had bought online. She still had it, long legs, nice boobies, which she may as well get reduced now, her stomach still sort of flat. She was in her thirties now, steaming towards the big four-zero—but who’d have guessed with all the wolf whistles and the stares and comments as she passed. Not that her husband would notice, when was the last time he looked at her like he had when they were young. When he’d been fun and told her she was beautiful. Sebastian had—he’d told her straight away as soon as he’d sat down and she’d felt his presence there with his little dog sniffing the air. He’d told it to her straight in a way that felt true and genuine, told her she was the most beautiful girl he’d ever seen, handed over his silk hanky with its embroidered initials, Sebastian String letting her know he wasn’t an asshole with a smile.

  The guy genuine and pure with no hidden agenda, just wanting her not to cry and to be happy. For her it meant meeting someone she hadn’t seen in a long time, a decent man and if the man had liked girls, despite his age, she’d have left her husband for him in a heartbeat.

  Picking up the phone, she dialed his number and when Sebastian answered she just said, “Hey.”

  Chendrill was still parked with his ass against the window when the call came in. Sebastian had looked at the display on his phone and smiled before he answered and Chendrill knew exactly who it was when he heard him say, “Are you all settled in?”

  Chendrill watched him on the phone, this man who'd just gifted him an Aston Martin because he'd insulted some big shot. He heard the voice of the woman on the end of the phone who used to be a lap dancer and who worked the circuit. Her laughing, Sebastian smiling being polite, knowing Chendrill could hear her cackle, giving little looks as though he was embarrassed to be talking in such a way with a girl.

  Putting down the phone, he looked straight over to Chendrill and said, “We're just friends.”

  “It’s none of my business,” Chendrill retorted quickly.

  Then he stared at the floor and to Sebastian's dog, still playing with its behind, and looking up again said, “What I am worried about though is you wasting money.”

  “Wasting money on who?' Sebastian asked, half laughing to himself.

  “Me.”

  “Thank goodness for that. I was worried you were going to give me another lecture about the girl. No Chuck, don't go worrying about the car, or that pompous man Ewes. He was a promise to Adalia, which I fulfilled, and now I can't be to blame if he isn't wanting to be here.” He took a deep breath and, shaking his head, continued, “you know this little whim of Patrick's is becoming a pain now, especially after speaking with that man’s agent. He was asking the world. The reality is, Chuck, you just saved me a fortune, and if it wasn't for little Fluffy being in the film, I might just pull the plug on the whole thing.”

  Chuck asked it straight, “How much did the prick want?”

  Wide-eyed, Sebastian said straight back, “One and a half million USD. Plus 10% of the gross.” Then he smiled and said, “Oh Chuckles, you don't know how happy I was when he said to me it was you or him.”

  ************

  Dan sat on his bed and stared at his dick. Adalia had called twice and he'd not answered; so had Marshaa, who'd gotten the same treatment, and the same with Melissa. Then after he'd gotten the strangest one from Daltrey, who hadn't left a message, which was very confusing. Now though he had an erection which had come on as soon as he'd seen her name—which was odd. Why would his body have feelings like this for a dead girl, even if she had been hot? Maybe that was it, he thought, after all his fantasies over the years weren't just limited to a sex maniac who lived under the bed, there'd been the odd hot ghost too who'd paid the occasional visit and maybe this time it was real. After all, they'd never got it on and perhaps in the afterlife her spirit was realizing there was something it had missed out on and her spirit was there now with him in the basement wanting him. That's why his phone had rang with her name on the display; it was her way of telling him she was there.

  Looking up to the ceiling he shouted out, “You want it, come get it,” and his mother called down, “Sorry?” Then quick as a flash she was clumping down the stairs and opening the door and staring at him, naked except for his socks with just his quilt across his lap.

  She said, “Did you call me?”

  Dan saying quickly, “Yeah, you want me to call Chuck, see what he's doing?”

  Charles Chuck Chendrill had just left the offices of Slave and was heading out of town when his phone rang and he was surprised to see it was Dan for once.

  He asked, “What have you done now?”

  "I should be asking you the same question since my mum’s been moping around the house all day and won't stop pestering me in my room,” said Dan.

  “She there now?” Chendrill asked, as he pulled up at some lights and looked to another woman looking at the car and then to him.

  Wondering whether it was the shirt or the car, sitting there feeling cool, he said after not hearing an answer back from Dan, “Well?”

  But Dan, getting bored, had already gone.

  Dan sat on his bed, threw his phone to one side and lifted the duvet off his lap, looked to the door to see if his mum was still there, and then back to his dick. Fucking Chendrill, getting his mother all upset and messing up his first ever real paranormal sexual experience.

  Looking around the room he called out, this time not so loud, “You still there?”

  Nothing.

  He said it again, “You still there? You feeling horny?”

  She was, he could feel her in the air, feel Daltrey’s presence, she was there in his room wearing those tight jeans she always wore. She was staring at him in his socks with his dick all hard, there with him watching him make it twitch up and down the way Adalia Seychan liked him to do, she was there with him… Daltrey unbuttoning her shirt, letting her hair down as her titties fell out, opening her jeans as she began to bend over towards his cock as he twitched it over and over making it jump up into his belly, summoning her to him like a finger.

  Then his mother said from just outside the doorway, “What on earth are you doing Dan?”

  Dan quickly grabbed the duvet cover back up towards his groin, covering himself again, not wanting to look up, hearing the door open and his mother ask, “Who are you talking to?”

  “Chuck.”

  “What did he say, did he ask about me?”

  Wanting to say, ‘Yeah, he wants you to go meet him now’ then he could get her out the house so he and Daltrey’s spirit, which was feeling horny, could get some action, Dan looked up and said, “He wants you to m
eet him,” seeing the relief in his mother’s eyes as her mind registered that he'd asked Dan to tell her this. There was still the possibility that Chendrill was about to deliver some bad news though.

  Dan told her, “Yeah, he wants to meet you at the cinema.”

  This way she'd be out the house long enough to use up half the butter left in the fridge.

  His mum stared at him now, confusion on her face.

  She said, “Really?”

  Dan nodded, wondering if Daltrey’s spirit was still in the room with her top off.

  “Yeah, you need to be quick, the movie’s starting soon.”

  “Which one?”

  “The one with Adalia Seychan, it's on downtown.”

  His mum saying, “Oh?”

  Dan nodded, knowing at least that much was true—as it’s all he'd heard the woman talk about all through the night and into the morning in those spare moments she'd had when she hadn't had his dick in her mouth or been telling him what to do to her.

  He carried on, “He said to be quick or you'll miss the start.”

  ***********

  Almost an hour later Chendrill pulled the Aston into the road where Dan and his mother lived. He'd been sitting for a while across from the house Sebastian had bought for the family of losers and was contemplating going straight to the door and telling them they had a month to make their excuses and leave or he'd be back with the police and begin pressing charges for extortion. But one thing was bothering him and it was that Sebastian was certainly no fool. The man cut through bullshit in his own Machiavellian way. This time though it was almost as though he was blind.