Carpet Diem

by Justin Lee Anderson

  In the closet, Simon also found an entirely new wardrobe. The baggy, comfortable clothes he’d hidden in for years were replaced with tight long-sleeved tops and jeans measured to show every taut muscle on his newly improved body. Even his shoes were a fashionable pair of brown leather trainers, instead of the nondescript black shoes he’d arrived in.

  Faced with the difficulty of deciding exactly what he should put on and how he was going to cope when people might actually look at him, Simon had run himself a bath. He had noted that he smelled fresh and musky, rather than the normal, dank, stale morning smell he was accustomed to. But still –a bath was a bath.

  “Nice ass!”

  Simon’s new look had done nothing for his nervous disposition. Thus, startled and, indeed, naked, he shrieked and dived into the wardrobe, pulling half of the clothes off the rails and on top of him.

  “Wow. Didn’t mean to scare you,” Cherry giggled.

  “I’m naked!” Simon blurted from under an Armani shirt.

  “I can see that,” Cherry replied.

  Simon realised with chagrin that while his upper half was buried in clothes, his lower regions could still feel the unmistakeable tingle of clear air.

  “And real nice it is too, can I say?”

  Simon’s face flushed as he scrambled to draw himself into the closet, clawing at clothes, while all too aware of the shoes that were trying to insinuate themselves between his buttocks.

  “Go away! This is a terrible invasion of privacy and totally unfair!” he grumbled.

  “Would it be fairer if I was naked too?” Cherry asked in return.

  Simon stopped clawing and peeked out from the depths of his makeshift cavern. If he said yes, would she undress? Regardless of the consequences, that was definitely worth a shot.

  “Maybe,” he mumbled, trying to sound indignant rather than ridiculously excited at the prospect. The last woman he’d seen naked had been on a computer screen. Hell, the last hundred women he’d seen naked had been on a computer screen. The last one he’d seen naked in the flesh had been a very, very long time ago.

  “Fair enough,” she answered, and immediately disappeared, leaving her clothes to crumple into a heap on the floor. She reappeared a few feet further away as gloriously naked as Simon had dared to hope. The reality of that was every bit as wonderful as he had imagined from the stolen glimpses and flights of imagination he’d indulged in recently. Suddenly, he had something new to worry about concealing –and it was more substantial than he was used to.

  “Better?” Simon’s new favourite person in the world asked.

  “Aggmff,” he replied, chewing on a tie he’d found over his shoulder.

  “OK, good.” She strode towards the cupboard and sat cross-legged on the floor directly in front of Simon, who at the same time wished both that the back of the cupboard would fall open and deposit him in Narnia, and that he could somewhere find the courage to reach out and touch that magnificent skin.

  “So here’s the thing,” said Cherry. “I like you, and I think you’re being taken advantage of.”

  “I am?” Simon whimpered.

  “Yeah. That demon has you twisted around her little finger and she knows it. And it’s not cool. You’re a decent guy, Simon Debovar, and there ain’t a lot of you around.

  “We’ve got two hours before I have to take you to the jetty to catch your boat. And you are seriously hot, right now. Instead of a bath,” she nodded to the open bathroom door, “would you consider taking a shower? With me?”

  Simon started to hyperventilate. She was a prostitute after all. Faunt had lied to him!

  “Did Faunt send you? Does he know you’re here?”

  “Well, of course he knows! But no, he didn’t send me. I promise, this is my decision. Because I like you. And I don’t like them.”

  Simon’s breathing slowed down. This was the situation, as he could see it: he had a brand new, ripped body, including some formidable sexual apparatus, and a hot, naked young girl sitting a foot away who wanted to take a shower with him. He, conversely, was hiding in a closet under a mountain of designer clothes and terrified of touching her. What was wrong with him?

  Cherry reached out her hand. Slowly, trembling, Simon lifted his own arm and reached back. When his hand brushed her skin, he felt a crackle of electricity.

  He gasped and his heart jumped.

  ----

  An hour later, Simon Debovar had a whole new appreciation for showers and a much-improved opinion of Americans in general. He was also entirely in lust with a teleporting punk and no longer drooling like a puppy over the demon who’d given him his new look.

  Cherry was entirely satisfied.

  ----

  Simon and Cherry arrived at the kitchen together for a late breakfast before setting off for the boat. He was quite certain there was a large sign on his forehead saying “I’ve just had sex!” He could feel it burning. Then again, his whole face was burning.

  It didn’t help that he’d known Faunt was aware of the whole thing. He’d once seen a stand-up comedian talking about his dead ancestors watching him have sex. Now he could sort of relate.

  “Morning,” Cherry announced herself.

  Bob and Harriet sat at the table. The giant, who looked a little younger and a little better, was working on a full English breakfast, while Harriet had what Simon assumed was a buck’s fizz –alcohol with a hint of breakfast. Bob rose quickly to retrieve a plate of Eggs Benedict for Simon and a stack of pancakes for Cherry.

  “Made to order,” he smiled as he placed them on the table. “I hope you like them.”

  As Bob sat back down next to Harriet, there was the slightest hint of familiarity between the pair. Simon had a horrible feeling that perhaps he and Cherry had not been the only ones enjoying themselves in the last 12 hours. He resolved to stop thinking about it immediately on the basis that he was not prepared for anything to put him off his breakfast.

  “So, you’re looking pretty snazzy too,” said Harriet. “Happy with the look or still whining about not being yourself?”

  Simon looked up at her and smiled, perhaps a little too confidently. “Actually, it’s OK.”

  “Thank Christ for that. I was half expecting to have to wipe your eyes for you. Have you seen these?” she grasped her breasts, firmly. “They’re like honest to God cantaloupes!”

  Simon focused on the food. And the memories of that morning. Cherry brushed his leg with her foot, under the table. Harriet’s taunts were meaningless noise.

  ----

  “Listen Accursed, all I want to know is: why this? Why did you choose this thing? Debovar barely qualifies as a sentient human being. He’s socially inept! How do you expect him to overcome Priest?”

  Daniel was in full flow. Faunt grazed peacefully on a pot of grass by the library fire.

  Lily put her hand on Daniel’s shoulder, encouraging him to sit. He did, reluctantly.

  “I think what Daniel is trying to say is, there are more reasonable things you could have asked for. This is pretty near a lost cause. Simon will be lucky to come back at all, never mind with your wife.”

  Faunt finished his mouthful and trotted over to a chair, jumping up on it before answering.

  “Firstly, you underestimate Simon. There’s much more to him than you realise. Either of you.”

  Daniel harrumphed.

  “Secondly, if he doesn’t come back, it will be because he is dead, and you will be free to pursue the Rug of Djoser.”

  “Not necessarily,” Daniel interrupted. “He could just choose to stay on the island, couldn’t he? Is that what you’re planning?”

  Faunt tilted his head. “Planning? You think I’m planning something, Daniel?”

  “Oh for Heaven’s sake, you already know what I think.”

  Lily’s eyes darted to Daniel and back to Faunt. She wondered, apprehensively, how far he was prepared to push their host.

  “Yes, I do know. And you should know that if he does decide to stay on th
e island, you only need to remove the charm you’ve placed upon Harriet and him. Return them to their natural state and Priest will expel them.”

  “True,” Lily nodded.

  “So you see, Daniel, there would be little point in my plotting anything against you, would there?”

  “You’re not telling us something. Why have you chosen this particular price?”

  Faunt raised himself up. The hairs on his back were bristling. It was the first time Lily had seen him seem genuinely irritated. She didn’t like it. Regardless of the power she and Daniel held, Faunt was not to be taken lightly - by anyone.

  “Because, ‘angel’,” he said, “we three all know exactly what’s riding on this, don’t we? And if it goes the way it might, then the value of what you’re asking far exceeds the price I’ve asked, wouldn’t you agree?”

  Daniel simmered, but looked down.

  “And in the circumstances,” Faunt continued, “is it really unreasonable for me to want to see my wife again?”

  “OK, fine,” Daniel assented. “But I don’t like it.”

  Daniel rose and left the room.

  “I’m sorry, Faunt,” Lily apologised. “He takes this very seriously. He’s under a lot of pressure, you know? He’s not bad, really. His boss is …pretty uptight.”

  “I’ve heard that. However, I am a patient man and your company has been most pleasant, Lily. And I can only thank you again for your help with Bob. I believe it would have taken him the full ten years to realise why he was here, otherwise.”

  “Well, you gave him back his life and he’d never have thanked you for it, I don’t think. Seemed a little unfair to me. Why’d you do it, by the way?”

  Faunt hesitated. “He was …damaged. By someone with whom I share a mutual dislike.”

  “And you can’t tell me who, right?”

  Faunt shook his head in confirmation.

  “Gotta love the Rules, ay?” the demon smiled.

  “You are a lady, ‘demon’,” Faunt smiled. “Will you join me in saying bon voyage to our intrepid adventurers?”

  “I will.”

  ----

  The sensation of being teleported was entirely bizarre. Cherry could only carry one person at a time, so she’d deposited Simon in a small copse of trees, just out of sight of the jetty, before going back for Harriet. She’d also paused for a quick snog before going back, which had done nothing to help steady Simon’s wobbly legs. Feeling like someone had pumped lead into his stomach and emptied his limbs of bones at the same time, Simon collapsed unceremoniously against a tree.

  A few moments later, Cherry and Harriet appeared out of thin air. In passing, Simon wondered what constituted ‘fat air’.

  To Simon’s secret delight, Harriet wobbled sideways and caught herself on another tree before her stomach expelled ‘breakfast’.

  Cherry shot Simon a smile, then blinked out again.

  “Ah well,” Harriet grumbled, “more room for lunch…”

  Lily had explained to Harriet before they left that, having restored her body to its 21-year-old state, her digestive system was no longer inured to her regular intake of alcohol. In short, she would need to eat. Regularly.

  As Harriet regained her composure, Cherry reappeared with Bob. He seemed slightly less rattled by the experience and Simon assumed, with an unexpected twinge of jealousy, that she had teleported him before.

  “OK, you guys. Good luck,” she said, smiling broadly. “I’ll make sure the fridge is stocked for when you get back.”

  With that, she was gone.

  The three pulled themselves together and headed for the dock.

  With the distraction of Cherry gone, Simon finally started to think about what was ahead. They were getting on a boat to a mythical island. What would it be like? A broken old cripple, wrapped in ancient cloths and smelling of rancid death, guiding them across on a raft made from the broken bones of the damned? A Viking ship, piloted by a ghostly warrior? Perhaps the Marie Celeste itself, unmanned and floating eerily on its path?

  It was something of a disappointment when it transpired that their transport was being provided by a badly-dressed, balding man who most closely resembled the Captain of the Love Boat.

  “G’day,” cried the speedboat captain, pulling at his orange and red Hawaiian shirt to fan himself in the heat. “You folks heading out this morning?”

  Of course, he was Australian. Why wouldn’t he be?

  “We are,” Bob answered. He had been elected spokesman on the basis that he was the most socially capable of the three. It hadn’t been a long discussion.

  “I’ll just need to see your invitations then, please?” The Captain smiled a shark smile, which said, ‘If you’re genuine guests, I’ll do anything you ask, but if you’re chancing your arms, I’ll eat your lungs’. He reached out his hand towards Bob, who carefully placed an envelope in his hands.

  While Simon and Bob trusted Faunt, neither of them felt entirely comfortable with the wait. The captain perused their invites closely, examining the photographs attached and peering intently at each of them in turn. It was akin to that uneasy feeling Simon always got around police officers: a desperate urge to confess to the packet of Polos he’d stolen aged 12 and throw himself on their mercy. Simon began to sweat even more. Bob looked shiftily at him as the wait lasted forever.

  Harriet had already worked out that she could take the Aussie wanker with a sleeper hold and drive the boat herself.

  He finally looked up from the paperwork and smiled, minus the shark.

  “Welcome aboard,” he invited them, removing the rope band that had previously blocked the gangway. “I’m Captain Alexander and I’ll be escorting you all to Priest’s Island this morning. Have any of you visited before?”

  “No,” Bob answered as he led the way on to the boat.

  Alexander eyed Harriet from top to toe as she stepped on to the boat. Simon wished he’d gone before her so as to avoid seeing the way she deliberately hitched her skirt just a touch higher than necessary as she passed him. It was slightly less upsetting now that he wasn’t labouring under a decade’s worth of celibacy, but it was still wrong.

  Simon followed on board. He looked towards the Captain, expecting to nod politely and smile at him, but the idiot was still watching Harriet fumble around and bend over too far. She wasn’t actually interested in the poor man. For a start, she had always said that Hawaiian shirts were only bought by men who were devoid of personality, so attempted to wear one instead. But she was clearly enjoying both the attention and the fact that she was torturing a colonial.

  Simon hoped he would survive Harriet’s twenties.

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  The journey took 45 minutes. Harriet’s casual vomiting made it feel nearer a week. (“It’s not my fault, it’s that bloody shirt, it’s making my eyes go funny!”)

  As they neared the island, the turquoise waters of the bay gave way to virgin-white sand along a two-mile crescent of beach. Beyond the sun-bleached wooden jetty stood an arch of terracotta stones that looked like it had grown straight out of the earth. The possibility that it had done just that was not lost on Simon. Beyond the coast was a welcoming flourish of trees bearing brightly-coloured, exotic fruit; a natural fireworks display to greet them. As the engine stopped, the comforting serenade of birdsong mingled with the gentle lapping of the waves against the boat.

  Daniel was right. This could be Heaven. It was beautiful. It was breathtaking. It was…

  “Fucking magnificent! I can smell the piña coladas from here!”

  It was fucking magnificent, apparently.

  Captain Alexander flashed a Cheshire Cat grin. It had probably been a while since he’d met a young lady with Harriet’s ‘spunk’. In fact, there may never have been such a woman.

  “Damn right it is, girlie. And I guarantee you, you won’t want to leave.”

  “I wouldn’t bet on that,” Bob muttered under his breath.

  Harriet played with the necklace Faunt had g
iven her that morning. The leather strap carried an eclectic blend of small wooden carvings.

  “Never take this off,” he had warned. “Even to sleep. It should protect you from Priest’s influence - keep your mind clear.”

  “My mind is never clear,” Harriet had joked. “But OK. If this keeps off the voodoo, I’ll do my best not to lose it.”

  Any time Simon started to feel a little too relaxed, he knew he’d only have to look at that necklace to remember that this was anything but a holiday.

  The captain finished tying off the mooring rope and offered a hand to Simon. He took it and stepped up out of the boat, relieved to be on solid footing again. He’d never been one for the sea. He thought too much about what was underneath.

  Harriet followed, but the novelty of torturing the Australian seemed to have worn off. Bob disembarked last, shaking Alexander’s hand. Simon thought he noticed Bob slip something to him as he did - probably a tip. It made him a little more glad to have Bob along. He’d really never understood tipping culture, and the question of whether he should have tipped a hotel concierge had once kept him awake wondering if he’d spend the weekend eating saliva.

  “Welcome to our island!” The voice seemed to come from nowhere. As the three turned away from the boat, a figure emerged from the shadow of the arch. His midnight-dark skin starkly contrasted with the cream linen of his shirt and trousers. He cracked a broad, charismatic smile. Was this Priest?

  “Hello, my friends! My name is Carlos. Welcome…” he flung his arms theatrically wide, “…to Paradise!”

  “You can take me to Paradise later, gorgeous,” said Harriet. “For now, just show me the bar.”