Trust Me

by Paul Slatter

  She looked to the clock on the wall. Time was getting on and she was becoming worried about getting back to work. The manager being such a bitch as she was, giving her those dirty looks with her beady eyes and checking her watch when she was a few minutes over on her break. Then making her work late rubbing stinky feet even though she knew she would be walking home on her own in the dark and hoping the lady with the snotty nosed kid she rented a room from would be up.

  Basil looked at her, still remembering the way she'd dug her fingers into his heel.

  Putting down his coffee, he asked, “You like what you do?”

  “Yes,” Maio replied.

  Basil carried straight on, saying, “You've made my calves ache.”

  “Yes.”

  Then he said, “Maybe tomorrow—I've booked up another massage—after we could go for dinner?”

  And Maio said, “Yes.”

  ***********

  Things could have been better. Sebastian and Fluffy were at home trying to relax, Sebastian with his feet up on his cashmere sofa talking on the phone with Adalia Seychan, who was having a breakdown.

  “I'm not sure if I can give you what you need if Campbell isn't on board,” she said. Sebastian hoped she'd walk so he could get his life back to normal.

  Waiting a moment, he said, “Adalia love, it's important you feel comfortable.”

  She said, “Campbell said your driver told him to fuck off, Seb?”

  Seb? Sebastian thought, it had been a while since he'd heard himself called that. Alan had used it sometimes, and earlier when he was a kid a friend who lived in the house next door to his mother’s—whose father kept budgerigars—had also.

  Changing the subject, he said, “It’s been a while since anyone's called me that Adalia, you're making me feel old.”

  “It's been a while since I've had a director quit on me whilst I've been preparing for a role,” replied Adalia

  Preparing, Sebastian thought, for what? A bullshit script about space travel?

  He said, “Yes, I understand—I know, this script it's really deep.”

  “I've put so much into it—so much, Sebastian, I'm living the part, please give me the guidance I need.”

  A seeing eye dog could guide you on this one, he thought, then he said, “I'll call him and calm him.”

  “And you'll fire the prick who was rude, won't you?”

  No, Sebastian thought, he'd fire her first then drop the project and have Patrick back selling condos to the Chinese before that would happen. He shifted himself and sat up wondering what Adalia Seychan was doing calling him mid-evening, worrying herself silly over a space project well below her standing.

  He said, “I'm not one for feuds—let's see how it goes shall we? I'm sure everyone will be happy in the end, and in this big world we live in, that's what's really important isn't it?”

  Adalia stayed quiet on the end of the phone, and in this silence Sebastian could feel her annoyance at not getting an immediate response to what she wanted, where in the past a studio executive would have just said ‘don't worry that fucker’s toast’ or something along those lines. He had heard about her in her early days, Adalia having her people take photos of crew members she didn't like and having them fired, then referencing them on future projects if she thought she'd seen them pass her on the studio lot.

  He said, “Live and let live, Adalia darling.”

  Then, surprising them both, without another word, he shut her down and simply hung up.

  He got up, carefully moving Fluffy so as not to wake him and walked to the window and watched the kids huddled together smoking dope down below, kids hanging having fun while they could before life came along and took their fun away. He looked at the bench where the guy Chendrill had chased off had been sitting earlier, when Chendrill had luckily been there. The man with his big sovereign rings now long gone, but somewhere inside he wished he was there again looking up and scaring him the way he had before. The man had brought Alan back to him in some strange way, he thought. Or maybe it was as simple as it gave him an excuse to call Chendrill. And with that thought in mind, he pulled out his phone, fiddled with the settings, and did just that.

  Chendrill lay on Tricia's bed with her head on his chest and heard his phone buzzing in the pocket of his jeans. Tricia looked up at him as he heard her say, “No it can't be, it's not possible?”

  But it was and Chendrill knew it, it had happened so many times now in the past that it just had to be. The pair of them laying together or in the throes of passion and Sebastian would call right in the middle with an emergency.

  Slowly, he moved Tricia reluctantly off his chest and, reaching down, scooped his jeans off the floor and pulled his phone from the pocket. He leaned back onto the pillows and looked at the display that said unknown and answered it.

  “Hey Sebastian,” he said.

  Sebastian was surprised, “How did you know it was me?”

  “I'm a detective.”

  “I thought I'd call to see if you are on your toes. God, you're good.”

  Being polite, Chendrill just said, “What's up?”

  “That guy’s not here Chuck, he's not outside!”

  Chendrill smiled, then said, “So that's a good thing then.”

  “And there’s a group of kids smoking dope on the beach.”

  “So?”

  “Well the police will be along soon.”

  “And?”

  “Well I was thinking they’re not doing any harm, they’re just talking and smoking and I think there’s some beer also. I’ve seen it a lot here you know over the years, they sit quietly. Then the cops show and then there’s trouble.”

  “And?” Chendrill said, looking at Dan’s mother getting up off the bed, wrapping her slender frame in a dressing gown.

  “Well, I’ve been thinking and it’s not nice.”

  “Tough being a kid sometimes. Remember when you were young Sebastian, sometimes having a beer and smoking a joint on the beach when you’re not supposed too is half the fun.”

  Sebastian stood there and looked out, thinking Chendrill was right as usual. He said, “Well I hadn’t thought of it like that Chuck.”

  Then without a word to Tricia, Chendrill suddenly said to him, “If you’re a little bored and wanting some company, Sebastian—it’s not late, why don’t you give Belinda a call and come on over to Dan’s mother’s place and I’ll see if I can get her to whip us up something nice to eat?”

  ***********

  Dan had just finished working out the algorithm and binary code that would isolate the governor Sebastian had fitted to his Ferrari so it would only do 90 KPH when he thought he heard Sebastian’s voice upstairs. Maybe, he thought, after their incident, Chendrill was out of the picture and his mum had moved up to the top of the totem pole—and that had been Sebastian up there in her bedroom poking her all evening. No, that wouldn’t work though, he’d have heard the dog, and the guy was gay—but you never know. He was about to open the door and shout up the stairs, “Who you fucking now?” to his mother when he heard Sebastian call down the stairs to the basement.

  “Daniel dear, are you down there?”

  They all sat around the table in the kitchen and ate spaghetti. Dan looking at Sebastian’s plate, wondering if the man was going to finish his because from what he could see, he didn’t like the cheese.

  He said, “Sebastian if you’re full, then leave it to me. Mazzi’s not here so I can eat.”

  Sebastian smiling and not lying in the slightest when he said it was wonderful—not wonderful in the sense of taste so much, because he could already feel wind coming on, but wonderful in the sense that he was sitting with people he wanted to be with. People who for once, despite working for him, didn’t have a hidden agenda. Except for Tricia that is, who didn’t work for him, though he could still see she had her eyes set on Chendrill.

  So, he said to her, to make her smile, “Tricia, I really love your home."

  And for a moment Chendrill
half thought Sebastian was going to either offer to buy her a new one or just clear the mortgage.

  Then Sebastian surprised him by saying, “You’re very lucky living here. You know where I live, no one even talks to you unless they’re on the building’s strata council and want something.”

  No one talked to her around here anymore either, Tricia thought. Everyone of them had been pissed at her son for some reason or other over the years, especially the neighbour directly next door who hadn’t spoken to her ever since she’d come home and found Dan sitting on her sofa with no trousers on. Dan pleading at the time that he must have been sleep walking in the middle of the afternoon and had no idea how a lesbian DVD from 1985 happened to be playing on the TV.

  She said, “Yes, they’re very sweet around here, they especially love Dan.”

  “Well we all love Dan, don’t we?” Sebastian said as he smiled to Dan, who wasn’t interested in returning the gesture. Chendrill, though, begged to differ.

  He said, “Sebastian, why don’t you ask Dan about what he was up to in the basement all afternoon?”

  Dan did not let Sebastian speak before he said, “Chuck’s just jealous Sebastian because I get to sleep all day because I’m a teenager and he’s old.”

  Sebastian said, “If he’s old Daniel, then I’m ancient.”

  Dan saying back, as quick as a flash, “Yeah but you’ve still got your looks. And your hair.”

  Sebastian smiled. This was great—Dan and Chendrill were seemingly getting along now ever since Chendrill had punched him in the face for stealing his car.

  Then Sebastian said, “Why don’t you all come over to my place sometime for dinner, and I promise Mazzi won’t be there.”

  Chendrill grinned—it was obvious Sebastian was enjoying himself. The guy for once almost forgetting about his dog, which he’d left in the back of Belinda’s car outside wrapped in a kiddie’s duvet.

  Then he said, “Fluffy would love it.”

  “I’m sure he would, Sebastian. It would be the highlight of his week, he’ll get to tell all his friends at the dog park about it in between sniffing each-other’s backsides,” Chendrill said.

  “Oh Fluffy’s not a dog person, Chuck; he’s a people person,” Sebastian said. “The only ass he’d be sniffing at the park would be yours.”

  Nice one, Chendrill thought, as he squeezed Tricia’s hand under the table and gave her a slight smile. Then Sebastian said, “I’m sorry, Tricia, for being so vulgar in your home.”

  Tricia, not offended in the slightest, said, “It’s all good. I’ll slowly get Chuck under control, if he’ll let me.” And she hoped with all her heart he would.

  Then with the briefest of pauses and the slightest of looks to Chendrill, she said with pride, “Dan's really keen about becoming an actor, Sebastian. He’s been rehearsing with Adalia a lot lately.”

  Oh, so that's what's been going on, thought Sebastian, wondering why he hadn't seen it earlier. The dirty bitch—coming up here and wanting to be in a stupid Sci-fi flick, fighting to get a big-name director in so as she didn't look too stupid—well she’d definitely be doing the timeless airline campaign, he’d yet to spring on her now—or he’d feel obliged to let it out and she'd look like some kind of monster for fucking a teenager.

  Smiling, he said, “Oh how wonderful. Well I bet she's a great teacher Daniel—what is she now about 70 or 75; she must be like a grandma to you?”

  That was pretty funny, Dan thought, as he took the last of the bread at the table without asking. He didn't care how old Adalia Seychan was, after all she had great tits and he’d even got his dick in between them with some baby oil. Then she’d let him get up above her and stroke himself off until he came on them, just like he'd seen one time in a movie. Adalia there, staring up at him, playing it full on like a porn star and rubbing it in with her fingers and then licking it off whilst pretending to be turned on when all she really wanted to do was clean her teeth.

  Dan said, “Yeah maybe something like that.”

  But Sebastian was now only half listening while he fiddled with the pasta that was giving him wind, his mind whirling away like it did when he suddenly felt inspired. What airlines were out there that were at the top at the moment? There was Cathay or Emirates, Virgin. He’d push it now definitely. He’d give the heads in their media departments a personal call in the morning, maybe even give Richard a call himself, although it had been a while since they’d last chatted on a flight back to the U.K. from New York.

  They could now fly all around the world and the campaign would pay double what the film was costing, he’d use a private jet with nice seats so Fluffy could come, and he’d hire a vet. He’d make Mazzi Hegan go a week ahead to prep so he didn’t have to listen to his dialogue.

  He’d make a huge donation to the director at the hospital where Tricia worked. Then when the time was right, he’d ask for a favour, tell them he needed a nurse, so Tricia could come too.

  Putting his fork down, he said, “Tricia if there was a place in the world where you'd really like to go, where would it be?”

  Tricia stared at him for a moment, then looked at Chendrill for an answer. Chendrill didn’t really know himself and said the first name that came into his head, “Bali.”

  Clapping his hands together in delight, Sebastian said, “Oh yes Bali, I love Bali. Anywhere else?”

  Tricia then remembered a holiday program she’d seen years ago and said, “Oh the fjords of Norway.” She’d loved the documentary, seeing the fjords dropping like sheer walls of granite rock from the heavens into the ocean. She had always wanted to go, even though all she had to do was take a self-drive motor boat up the inlet in Howe Sound thirty minutes outside Vancouver to see almost the same view.

  Sebastian knew this only too well, but said anyway, “Oh, how wonderful. What a fantastic place.”

  Then Tricia said, “Oh and the Pyramids, and Paris, and London, Bucharest and Ayers Rock in Australia.”

  **********

  Basil—the Canadian who had a thing for Asian women with strong fingers and worked for the U.S. Customs and Border Protection—sat along the road and watched the kitchen lights of Dan’s mother’s home. So far he’d tested out all the electric windows of the car, the locks, all the functions of the adjustable seat including the heat, seen how horizontal the seat would get twice and played with the auto tuner on the car’s radio so much that now he couldn’t get it to work at all. He looked at the mirror—like they had taught him in border security training—no one there. He looked again, no one there. He looked forward towards Dan’s mother’s house—just the lights on. No one there either. Fuck me, this is boring, he thought, maybe it’s drugs—these guys living small but driving huge cars and leaving their bodyguard outside in a Mercedes. They were probably in there now working out their next run. Maybe they had a small rocket and they were firing the drugs over the border, or maybe they were using a drone that looked like an eagle. Maybe the drone fucked up and the thing went down in a field and they had to sneak into the field in the dead of night to get the drugs back.

  That’s probably what had happened. It would explain why there was mud on the floor of the stolen 4x4 this Chendrill had supposedly used to jump the fence like he did. The guy was probably on a deadline and supposed to deliver and the drone broke. So, he came out and hung about in the shadows, then incapacitated the guard and crashed the border with a knapsack full of drugs. What they were doing now was working out how to get the drone up and running again. The lawn was badly cut at this shithole where they were all hiding out, and there was not a lawn mower to be seen—showed they were using a drone. That’s what’s been keeping the lawn trim without a mower; those blades are sharp and no different from a trimmer. He’d seen a guy using one on an infomercial once on late night TV.

  He sat up, adjusted the seat for the 100th time, and shook his head. Maybe though, he thought, it could just be a load of nonsense and they could all be in there now eating dinner, which was what he should b
e doing right now with Kaio or Maio or Mayo or whatever her name was. If she wasn’t at work that was, at work until nine or ten she’d said—or, her boss had said when he’d called. Late yeah, but worth the indigestion if she’d put out in the end like the last one had.

  He closed his eyes and twisted his toes about and thought he should just go see if he could get a foot rub right now before the end of her shift, then take her out. He picked his phone up off the passenger seat and dialed the number for the massage shop. Yes, Maio was still there; sorry she was busy at the moment. Yes, he was the guy who’d called earlier and was going to take her to dinner.

  Fuck, he thought, as he blew out a big breath that almost steamed the window. She was there now, rubbing another guys toe’s, getting out that little wooden tool she carried on her belt and making whoever was at the end of it feel special. Maybe though it was a woman there getting all relaxed. That would be cool. No though, it would be a guy, a big one at that, some fat cunt, with some form of foot fungus between his toes or under his toenails, the incurable sort he’d watched infomercials about on late night TV.

  He called again and asked, “Is Maio working on a big guy right now as I’d recommended her to a friend who had fallen arches.”

  “Yes.”

  Fuck, he thought, now wishing he hadn’t checked.

  Then the woman said in her broken English, “She be done soon, you want make appointment?” Basil looked at Dan’s mother’s shithole of a home, which wasn’t much better and worth three times as much as the one he’d recently bought in Bellingham just across the border. This was a tough one. He could sit here another hour like he was supposed to, or he could make up some bullshit about following the suspect down to Happy Feet and risk catching some sort of skin disease off the hands of his new girl who didn’t know his name yet.