Trust Me

by Paul Slatter

  “Oh?” said Chendrill and wondered why Sebastian, and Mazzi for that matter, had always associated sex with women with fish when in reality it was just a rare hormonal issue some girls had to deal with on occasion. But to them it seemed it was a constant almost as though in their mind making love to a woman was pretty much the same as entering an Alaskan cannery for the first time. He said, “What is it with you and fish Sebastian?”

  Sebastian stared at Chendrill for a moment with his eyebrows furrowed, and he said, “Don’t get me started on that one, Chuck. Besides you’re the expert. I’m sure Mazzi will be banging on your door for advice soon on the subject since he’s now come out—or in, as he put it.”

  “I know, you keep telling me,” Chendrill answered, as he began to smile.

  “Oh, he’s definitely gone straight, Chuck. Although truth be known, I’ve always thought deep down he liked girls, but you never know, maybe it’s from when he hit his head—people change after head injuries. I knew a kid when I was growing up who wouldn’t eat sausage and then he fell off the swings as a teenager and afterwards couldn’t get enough of them in his mouth. It happens.”

  ***********

  With a blank cashier’s cheque in his pocket for a quarter of a million dollars that he hoped the Italian guy who lived off the back of addicts would never see, Chendrill made it back to Dan’s house and sat in the kitchen as Tricia got ready for work. Dan was downstairs in his cave, playing heavy metal as loud as he possibly could. Through the noise Chendrill asked why.

  “He does this sometimes, always has. I used to fight it but in the end I discovered he gets bored of it before me if I don’t react and just leave him be,” replied Tricia.

  Chendrill smiled, it was the same approach the cops used in the cells on a Saturday night when the drunks were getting mouthy. Let them shout and scream and question who’s fucking the cop’s wives while they’re here at work and if they ignored it, it stopped quicker. Some police officers liked the drama, though, so it could get loud.

  He said back to Dan’s mother through the noise, “This film Dan’s in is going to have Rock Mason in it as well.”

  Tricia turned and stared at him, then said in astonishment, “No?”

  Chendrill nodded as he fiddled with the buttons on his Hawaiian.

  “Yeah, how about that, who’d have believed it?”

  “My son in a Rock Mason movie?”

  Chendrill nodded again, “Seems that way. Sebastian says he’s going to make sure Dan’s name is there right next to Rock Mason and grandma Adalia.”

  Thanks for that, Tricia thought, having just managed to forget about the woman for the moment. She said, “Do you think we’ll get to meet Rock? He’s so lovely. You know years ago when Dan was young, he used to put on one of Rock’s movies when I was feeling down and I’d always cheer up.”

  Chendrill smiled; it was hard to think of this lovely woman being down about anything, but she was human after all. And, of course, she had her son to deal with. Through the din, he said, “They’re going to start filming next week with a splinter unit, they’ll get as many scenes as they can with Adalia and Rock Mason on blue screen. You know, get the close-ups because she’s leaving and then they can use a double for the rest once she’s gone.”

  Tricia stared at him for a second, then said, “I thought you told me you went to these meetings but never listened to a word?”

  Chendrill shrugged, then said, “Well I’m bound to pick up a bit—you can’t help but not, besides Rock Mason’s in it now.” Then he said, “Tell Dan, see what he says.”

  Tricia took it in, “It’ll be interesting. I know he likes him, you see he watches his films through to the end, which is rare because usually he gets bored.” She walked to the top of the stairs and leaning with both hands on either side of the wall as she had many times before called down through the racket to Dan’s cave in the basement.

  “Dan—Dan—Rock Mason’s going to be in this movie you’re in.” And then she waited and called again. And waited. And again, and again. This time though the music went off.

  Taking a deep breath, Tricia waited then she called down for the fifth time, “Dan, they’re having Rock Mason in this movie you’re in.” A second later the music was back on, blasting through the floorboards and out onto the street. Tricia walked back to the table and, sitting herself on Chendrill’s lap, smiled. Then she said sarcastically, “He’s such a great kid.”

  **************

  In between having to dress up, Clive had been doing even more research, tapping out on his keyboard with one hand and what fingers he had left on the other. It turned out Sebastian String was an even more rich and powerful man than he had first discovered. Powerful in the sense that he could change the way people thought and influence their behaviours without even knowing in the slightest it was him pulling the strings. This was a talent which only became more apparent an hour later when, after a game of dress up, he’d looked down to see a used BlueBoy hanging from his dick.

  Since then the idea of him being Mayor of Vancouver had been growing—there was prestige to that. But you had to do something great before you could be known for not being able to do something, or many spectacular things for that matter, because the world had been robbed of your presence due to your untimely passing. It couldn’t be bike lanes or outdoor movies in the park, it had to be more than the odd jazz festival like the current guy was doing. It had to be that, plus more, something special—and helping people was special.

  He called Sebastian String and congratulated him on his BlueBoy campaign and felt embarrassed straight after as he heard Sebastian ask him, “Did buying them make you feel dangerous.”

  “Yeah, they did; it’s why I bought them,” he’d said. But they hadn’t really, in fact all he ever really felt after having sex and dressing up like Russell Crowe was stupid.

  Then he heard Sebastian ask, “Would you like me to send over the limo so as we can sit down and talk about making you famous again?”

  From the corner of his eye Clive sat in Sebastian’s office and watched as Sebastian’s dog rubbed its ass on the carpet. Sebastian was saying, “I’ve looked at all the dates and we are a little late but sometimes that can be a good thing. We can let the opposition spend all their money then we can blitz them. I think there’s only about 10% of the population who do actually vote, so if I make it trendy to vote for you then that will be that.”

  Clive looked away from the dog and back to Sebastian, who was looking at him and smiling. Sebastian continued, saying, “He does that. I think he’s got worms.”

  Clive smiled, the man was nice and honest and it almost felt a shame to lead the guy up the garden path like he would be. He said, “If I get in, I don’t want to be doing just the norm—I want to do something special, you know like helping people.”

  Sebastian smiled and said straight back, “Oh, there’s so much we are going to do Clive.”

  “We?” asked Clive, suddenly worried about how much of a puppet this guy was going to make of him and, if so, despite how generous he was being, would he get to the level of fame needed to be really and truly missed?

  “Oh yes we, Clive. When I say ‘we’ I’m talking about myself, but I can’t do it—being gay and all, even in this day and age, else I should think I’d be there now. It would give me something to do on the weekends.”

  Then standing suddenly, Sebastian clapped his hands together and with a beaming smile carried on, saying, “We are going to build parks, improve roads and beaches, make it so people can park again for free after 6 p.m. and have a real steam train that takes people around the city—maybe even resurrect the Royal Hudson? Reduce the fees for the cruise ships so as I can walk to the top of the Lionsgate Bridge in the evening and wave them goodbye. Plus, we’ll make sure there’s free medical for the elderly and sick. Oh, and sort out the East Side—you know, where there’s all these drug people.”

  Clive stared at him, everything he’d said so far made sense and if he
thought it out for a while it was all doable. But the East Side. Over there, you were going up against gangs and corruption. He said, “The East Side?”

  “Yes,” Sebastian said smiling, “What we’ll do is designate an area over near the docks, maybe reclaim some land so people don’t moan, and we’ll make an island that’s about a half mile square and open it up as a bar, drug, and prostitute zone. Just like they have in Amsterdam. All the people who want their vices can still do their thing, but they’ll have to do it there instead. Or, they go to prison if they do it out in the open. Then we can watch out for the girls on the street and give them health care and rehabilitation. And we can weed out the ones who are too young Clive. Oh, and the street guys that keep arriving from Montreal, we can send them back on a bus if they want to go with a $5000 contract saying they can’t come back unless they have a job and a place to live, then we can separate them from the people who have real mental health problems, and give them the help they need. We can also reopen some of the hospitals they shut down and Patrick and his friends sold as condos. On top of all this, I think that if you’re retired and need help for whatever reason, you should be able to get it Clive—healthcare transportation, housing, food, clothes. Anything, regardless of how much you have in the bank.”

  Clive stared at him wondering when the man was going to stop. In the end, he just said, “Oh my God Sebastian, this is exactly what I need to do!”

  “Oh, I haven’t really given it too much thought yet—it’s just a couple of ideas, but it’s something we need to start looking at once I put together a campaign so as I can get you in the position where you can start making a difference. So, it’s up to you, Clive—we are going to do great things. You up front and me quietly working anonymously in the background with Chuck. I want to make you great Clive, not just here in this town but as far as we can stretch it—it’s what I’m good at.”

  Perfect, Clive thought, it couldn’t be any better.

  ***********

  Chendrill sat at the kitchen table at Dan’s home which was now quiet and looked at the blank $250,000 banker’s draft Sebastian had given him with no name attached. If he lost it, anyone could put their name on it. Sebastian knew the name of the man who he was giving it to, but he had left it blank. Maybe it was a test, he thought. But why would he do that? Maybe he was leaving it up to Chendrill’s discretion and had given the money to release the burden of debt however ridiculous it all seemed. Either way it seemed odd.

  He looked at the clock, it was almost 7 p.m. and chances were the prick would be at the peeler bar getting his rocks off—although the girl he’d been speaking to hadn’t called like she said she would. But that didn’t mean much.

  Twenty minutes later he was parking the Aston in Gastown and heading back east towards the bar. He opened the door and paid the cover, walked in and the first person he saw sitting on G-row was Dan. Moving in next to him he said, “What are you doing here?”

  Dan looked at him and then to his shirt then said, “What are you doing here? I’m surprised they let you in with that shirt.”

  “Well they did.” He asked again, “What are you doing here?”

  “Same as you I should think, looking at chicks.”

  “You’re not old enough.”

  “Your too old,” said Dan straight back, as he looked up to see a bare ass pass by right above him.

  “You’re supposed to be 21 to get in here.”

  “I got ID.”

  “You’re too young for an ID card.”

  “I didn’t say it was mine, besides they recognized me and let me straight in, no cover either. Not like you.”

  Chendrill thought about it, the kid had to have guessed, he’d seen Dan as soon as the door opened and the kid hadn’t looked around at the door once.

  “How do you know I paid cover?” he asked.

  “I see you in the mirror.”

  Chendrill said straight back, “How about I see you leave in the mirror.”

  “How about I don’t tell Mum you was here and you leave.”

  “I’m working.”

  “So am I.”

  “Doing what?”

  “Learning dance moves.”

  Chendrill laughed, the kid was funny even if he was a pain in the ass. He said, “Nice music this afternoon.”

  “You like that do you, make you feel young again, I can see you as a head banger.”

  “You still here?”

  Then the girl who’d taken him for $300 from before came over, this time dressed as a schoolgirl in a short skirt with her tits hanging out, smothering herself all over Chendrill with her hands and arms. Some people liked that kind of thing, to them it was fantasy island, to Chendrill it wasn’t though. She said, “Hey Chuck. Your friend’s just gone upstairs, you got that $300 you promised?”

  And all Dan heard through the bumping and grinding of the mixtape the DJ was playing for the young girl onstage as she bent over, picking up fives and change off the floor so as she could try to pay her way through veterinary school was, “Chuck—upstairs—you got that $300 you promised?” Which to even Dan translated directly to ‘you’re a fucking pervert’, which, of course, Dan could care less about, but nonetheless he told him anyway.

  Unfazed, Chendrill replied, “Make sure you’re not still here when I come back down.”

  Mattia the Italian sat up top in a dark room on a sofa so dirty and stained that even a blind guy wouldn’t sit on it if the lights were on. As per usual, he had three girls on him, one on either side and the other on his lap in the centre, all with their tits in his face as they rubbed their hard, lithe bodies into his. The Italian lost in the moment as he always was. The girls who should have known better, somewhat lost themselves in their lives, looking at the clock. He had six hands on him, two with their palms flat pushing and rubbing the sweat on his chest, another two stretching down to his groin and the other pair combing through his hair. The Italian wondering how long he had left and the girls wondering who the guy in the red Hawaiian was sitting alone on the chair in the corner was. Then as the music stopped, and so did they, leaving the Italian sitting there with his mouth open and feeling embarrassed as the girls left the room. Then he saw Chendrill sitting in the corner.

  “Once you’ve settled down we can talk business.”

  The Italian stared at him taking the time to smooth out his hair and compose himself. All agitated he asked, “Couldn’t it have waited?”

  “If I liked you I suppose it could.”

  “Get the fuck out of here you perverted cunt,” the loan shark who lent out money in blocks said to him in a curt voice.

  Not giving a shit, Chendrill said straight back, “You come to see my friend when it pleases you, I’m doing the same—besides, I’m not the one here with the tits of three girls half my age in my face.”

  “Fuck you.”

  Chendrill shrugged, still not caring what this man who lived off of the backs of the weak and dying had to say. He said, “You want this money you’ve been harping on about or do you want me to leave?”

  “If you have it all, yeah.”

  “How much is all?”

  “You know.”

  “No, I don’t, see I think it’s a figure you picked from the tree because you found out your brother was sword swallowing my friend’s boyfriend when he crashed your car and you always thought he was straight and preferred to play the same games you play up here.”

  The Italian loan shark stood checking his fly, his hard on long gone and forgotten, and as soon as he felt comfortable with himself again he said, “Maybe I’ll stick a sword in you?”

  Chendrill laughed to himself, smiling, not bothering to get up off the chair and said, “Given how horny you were only seconds ago, maybe with a comment like that, there may be a little bit of your brother in you after all.”

  And on those words, the Italian felt the blood rush away from his stomach and up into his chest as his temper took over and, pulling his hands from the top of his tro
users, he went for Chendrill across the other side of the room, pulling a blade from out of nowhere.

  Quick as a flash, Chendrill was off the stool and moving to one side, slapping his left hand down on the Italian’s knife hand spinning around it as it came at him. The blade hit the floor at exactly the same time as the side of Chendrill’s other hand caught the Italian right in the throat, rendering the man with the sweaty chest unable to breath.

  Quickly Chendrill picked up the man’s knife and hoping it would stick into the drywall wall, threw it hard across the room and seeing the wrong end hit and the knife smash and spinout across the floor said to the man gasping for breath, “I thought you carried a gun?”

  And as soon as he said the words, he saw it coming up in the Italian’s hand from a holster on his lower leg. Again, Chendrill was quickly on him, grabbing the back of the man’s shirt and pulling him off balance enough to distract him as he brought his foot up, kicking the gun away and then again bringing it up into the man’s stomach, sending him rolling across the floor.

  Chendrill moved away, picking up the gun, he said, “From what I remember, you said it was $250,000. And if I’m wrong I don’t care.”

  Pulling out his wallet, he pulled out Sebastian’s cashier’s cheque. Then holding the loan shark’s nose he pulled the man’s head back until his mouth opened and he stuffed the whole thing in.

  “Don’t swallow because there’s a cashier’s cheque for a quarter of a million in your mouth. Don’t spend it all at once, especially in here.”

  Then he stepped back and, standing above the loan shark who had a thing for dirty young girls, said, “If you come near me or my friend again, I’ll use every means I know to put you away for 10 to 15 years."

  And with that Chendrill was gone, down the stairs, passing drunken men, red with excitement, hand in hand with scantly clad girls who, on a given evening made almost the same hourly as the odd lawyer they were grinding their pussies against. He reached the bar and passed it, moving through the crowd towards the brightly lit stage in the centre of the room—now occupied by another beauty who wasn’t going to be a vet, and who was dressed as a cowgirl but soon wouldn’t be wearing much of anything. He found Dan, still on Gynecological Row with another beer, banging his hands on the stage along with the rest of the guys who should be at home with their families. Dan shouting out just as Chendrill reached him, “Show us the peach baby.”