Garrett & Sunny: Sometimes Love is Funny

by Peter Butler

  'I really don't want to talk about that. It's not relevant to what we both obviously want to do.' I deliberately moved the conversation to a closing point.

  'I say it is. Maybe they left because you stole from them?'

  There you go... She didn't deny wanting it. Deal closed.

  I took a long slow sip of my drink. The heat from my hand, or maybe emanating from her, had long ago melted the ice. I came here to get away from this subject and now I was faced with the choice of openly talking about it to a stranger and getting sex in return, or to continue drinking myself into a stupor, alone. The embarrassment and hurt suddenly seemed to be worth baring it all, besides, she would most likely hear about it anyway. I was currently starring on TV, after-all.

  'One of my clients is a crazy man. He enjoys challenging me to stupid, and I now realize very expensive bets.'

  'What's his name?' she interrupted my lumbering introduction as if her knowing that was important.

  'Really? You want that much detail?'

  'Absolutely essential. Goes to the truth of the matter.'

  'You're starting to sound like a bloody lawyer, not a photographer.' I sneered at her..

  She smiled sweetly at me. Then raised her eyebrows and nodded, as if to say "Well?"

  'His name is Rick. Rick Varley.'

  'I know that name,' she interrupted again, her head tilted in thought. 'He's in the movie business?'

  'Yes. He's a film director.'

  'Oh, I remember. He did that big budget computer hacking movie with Tom Cru...'

  I cut her off. 'Do you want this damn story... or his phone number?'

  She grinned. 'I'd like both, please.'

  'I'm glad that you are enjoying yourself, but please remember that this story is painful for me. Can you try and contain yourself?'

  'I'm sorry. Continue. I won't butt in again.'

  I downed the last of my whiskey. I considered ordering another, but then I remembered I wouldn't be here much longer if she was true to her suggested promise.

  'Rick had been offered a movie that he really wanted to direct. He told me he was prepared to do it just for a percentage of the box-office. But I was being the big man and I told him I could get him his points, plus a big upfront payment from the studio. He bet me I couldn't... and, well, word had got out he was desperate to do it. Long story short - I lost.'

  'Gee... I don't know how you can live with yourself. That's just terrible. So he fired you?'

  'You promised not to interrupt.'

  She put both her hands over her mouth, mimicking a gag.

  'No. He didn't fire me and it wasn't just a bet for a few bucks or a case of grog. With Rick there is always a sting. This time the loser had to enter a ten mile charity Fun Bike Ride through Muscle Beach, just a mile or two down the road.' I gestured the general direction with my head.

  Monique raised both her arms in an over-the-top questioning gesture. 'Ouch! How awful.'

  'I didn't find out until I turned up yesterday to compete in that event that it was a nude, fun ride.'

  She grinned.

  'Rick was waiting; he had the bike ready for me... and a huge grin. All I had to do was strip, along with hundreds of others, and wait for the starter’s gun to go off.' I paused and took a deep breath, steeling myself to tell the rest of my story.

  Monique sensed that what was about to come would be interesting; she leaned closer, and said, 'I can see it all in my imagination. You standing beside your bike wearing nothing but that big confident smile, surrounded by lots of naked people all checking each other out?

  I nodded agreement to her estimate with a glum look on my face.

  'What could possibly be wrong with that, Mark? Were there only men in the ride?'

  'No, the opposite, they were mainly women. A large number were locals and clearly used the beach equipment to work out on. They were very taut.’

  'So, they were... hot?'

  I nodded, yes. 'There were quite a few reporters and a lot of cell-phones in the crowd and because Rick is a celebrity they soon found him and focused on him... and the naked guy beside him holding a bike. Rather than just stand there in all my glory...'

  She rolled her eyes at that.

  'I decided to mount the bike.'

  Another eye roll.

  'I was trying not to look at any of the cameras, hoping my face would be obscured as I slowly circled around waiting for the starter's gun to go off. I don't know if it was all the naked people around me or the bike seat putting pressure on things that don't normally get pressure applied in that way...'

  Suddenly Monique burst out laughing, shattering the subdued aura of the Okay Corral. She looked at my face which had been steadily producing heat and reddening as I replayed the story and blurted out loudly - 'You got a boner!'

  I could only nod to her as she continued loudly disrespecting my embarrassment with her laughter.

  'Go on,' she urged, 'what happened then.'

  'People began noticing. Suddenly cameras were flashing. Some of the other riders were rolling around in laughter. But I wasn't the only one who didn't find it funny as some prude complained to the officials. They came to me with a large towel and escorted me away like a common criminal - with the towel draped over my lap. Rick, by the way, was the one laughing the loudest. The bastard.'

  'That's a lovely story, Mark,' she brought her laughter under control. 'One day you'll be able to laugh at it too.'

  'I don't think so,' I shook my head, 'You see I'm an internet sensation at the moment. At last count I've had around 50,000 hits on YouTube and now the mainstream media has picked up the story. The headlines they've used are the killers.'

  Monique looked at me expectantly.

  "Someone is way too excited to be in a Fun Ride", I offered. "Rider banned from ride for trying too hard to come first" and the one that is getting the most play shows a picture of me in all my glory with the caption "Rider banned - Too much Lance. Not enough Armstrong"

  Monique lost it.

  ***

  I waved to Bradley but he was serving a new customer and didn't notice me. I said to Monique, 'I'll settle our bills; then we can get out of here.' She smiled suggestively as I slid off the barstool and headed towards Brad and the new guy who looked like he was about to be upgraded to a double, judging from the familiar way his barman was being so attentive.

  'I need to settle up, Bradley,' I called out, as I got within hearing range.

  He looked over to me then back to his customer. 'Excuse me a moment, Jerome.' He motioned with his head that I should walk with him to the till.

  'I'll take care of the ladies' bill also,' I said, as we arrived.

  Bradley pulled her tab off the bulldog clip he stored the bills on and presented it to me. 'Out of friendship, Mark, I'm telling you don’t go with that woman,' he whispered to me.

  I gave him a steady, disbelieving look. 'No... I think I should, Bradley,' I responded as I did some quick math then pulled a few notes out of my wallet and slid them across the counter.

  'Seriously, Mark...'

  I was shaking my head as soon as he had started to reply and I interjected before he could make his case any further, 'Thanks, Brad. You keep the change. And good-luck with... Jerome?' I walked away before he could say another word.

  Monique was standing beside her stool having just replaced her cell-phone in her bag. She slid the sleeve of her left arm up and looked at her watch as I walked towards her. I was intrigued to see she was wearing a man's Rolex, I knew this because I was wearing a very similar model on my left wrist. Maybe this was a new trend for women that I hadn't heard about, not surprising as I tried hard not to follow trends, but she was involved in the fashion industry and would need to be very aware of them. I'd seen plenty of women wearing extra-large watches so this was obviously just an extension of that idea. That in essence is why I don't follow fashion, you can never be in - you are either behind or in-front. I choose not to play at all.

  'I'm going t
o let you buy me an expensive dinner, Mark,' she said, as I joined her, 'but I see it is too early to eat,' She smiled suggestively to me. 'Why don't we reverse the normal date scene and go up to my room and have a quiet nightcap... first, and then have dinner?'

  'And then another nightcap?' I offered.

  'I think I see why you had a problem at the bike event... Lance.'

  I took her hand and we walked to the bank of elevators. I noticed she was very tall and her legs were shapely. Admittedly she had high heels on but even in bare feet she would be about my height, possibly taller. I'd be checking that out a lot closer in a matter of minutes and I wouldn't need a tape measure. That thought brought a smile to my face.

  'I'm glad to see you are out of your "wallowing in self-pity" phase,' she said, as we waited for the lift to arrive.

  'You have to take all the credit,' I slipped my arm around her shoulders and squeezed her against my body. 'It turns out spending time with a gorgeous, highly intelligent woman is better fun than drowning in a vat of whiskey.'

  'This is not all about you,' she smiled that unreadable smirk. I read it anyway - it said, "I'm going to have such a hell of a good time that neither of us will be able to walk for a week." I smiled suggestively as we moved to the rear of the lift, we were the only passengers and when the doors closed I pulled her to me and kissed her. We played tonsil hockey until the lift's robotic female voice announced 'Level Five', followed by a ping as the lift doors slid open.

  She used her swipe card and we were into the room, my hands were busily grabbing at pieces of her clothing before the door had even closed. She pushed me back, gently. 'Now, hold on a minute, hot-shot. A girl needs a moment or two before things get to where you obviously want them to go. I need to use the bathroom. While I do that why don't you make us both a drink from the mini-bar.' She kissed me lightly and left, but she turned back after she had opened the bathroom door, and said, 'Oh, and when I come back through this door the first thing I want to see is... the thing that caused you to become an internet sensation, proudly on display on my bed. I don't have a bike in here, so you'll just have to wing it.' She giggled like a schoolgirl as she closed the door behind her.

  Undress first, drinks second. No. I reversed the order and went to the bar fridge and selected two of the tiny bottles, the cupboard above the fridge had the glasses and I poured the contents of each bottle in. No time for ice, I figure it would melt before we got to drink, anyway. I carried the glasses over to the bed and placed them on the side-table next to the ornate art-deco lampshade. The room was decorated in a Twenties style with antique furniture and period reproduction artworks. Quite nice, but the bed was the only thing I was interested in. I pushed down on it with my hand and it felt firm with a thick layer of soft foam on top; perfect for what I had in mind.

  I took a sip of my drink then sat on the bed so I could remove my shoes and socks. The room was quite large by hotel standards, the bathroom door that hid Monique stood to the left of the bed. The wall I was facing had a built-in desk with a chair pushed up to it and I threw my shoes one at a time under the chair. Beside the desk was an area for luggage to be unpacked and further along that wall there was a round wooden dining table with four chairs pushed neatly into it. On the other side of the bed there was a three door closet. The area beyond the bed contained a three-seater lounge and a single armchair, a coffee table sat in front of a wall-mounted large-screen TV with a sound system below it on a purpose built table.

  I carefully draped my $5,000 suit jacket over the big armchair, followed by my tie and shirt. She had been in the bathroom for a while and I was keen to comply with her demand, I worked my belt undone and quickly unzipped my pants and dropped them to the floor. I should have sat on the bed but speed was important now so I hopped precariously on one leg while I fumbled the second leg of the pants over my foot.

  Suddenly, pain and a deafening noise combined with confusion exploded in on me, and the carpeted floor came rushing towards my face. It all happened so quickly that I didn't have time to put my hands out to catch myself and more pain followed when my head hit the floor... Hard. My eyes were spinning and I tried to focus as I felt a hand cup my throat from behind and lift my head up, then a fist slammed into my eye with such force that my head was pushed out of the supporting hand and crashed back to the floor.

  The last thought I can remember was: the line-backer.

  ***

  A sharp pain... And then another one. They came out of nowhere. My cheek this time, not the back of my head or my eye. I tried to focus but only one eye would open and even then the vision was blurred and useless. Then the pain came back; a sharp pain - on my cheek... again, then again. I groaned and felt my shoulders being shaken.

  'Wake up! Wake up!' A distant voice seeped into my brain. 'Sir, wake up.'

  I felt fingers pinch my cheek and shake my head gently. 'Ouch!' I uttered incoherently and my face was released.

  'You gave me a hell of a fright, sir. Thank God you're not dead,' a slightly clearer voice was now saying to me.

  I tried again to open my eyes, only the left one complied, but the vision was still very blurry. I could make out a female face looking at me. My head had cleared enough for me to realize I was on my back, looking up at the distorted face and beyond that a pale white ceiling. An overhead light began to come into focus and then, slowly, the female face followed.

  'Wha.. What happened?

  'I don't know, sir. You might have fallen,' she offered, 'but I don't think so. Your right eye is very dark and swollen. I think you might have been beaten up.'

  I was slowly regaining my vision. One eye only, but it was sufficient to make out who was with me. She looked to be in her thirties and was dressed in a uniform. Not a police or nurses uniform, more like a hotel employee uniform. She had a color-matched apron over her dress and it had an embossed emblem on the chest section. I could now make the words out through my squinting eye; it read "Rangers Excelsior Hotel".

  'Am I in a hotel?'

  'You are, sir, The Excelsior.'

  I pushed myself up on to my elbows and the pain throbbed afresh in my head. I cautiously looked around and the room became familiar to me. The woman - what was her name? She had brought me to this room. 'Where is the girl - the woman I was with?'

  'I have no idea, sir. I came here to prepare the bed for the guests to sleep and found you lying on the floor. No one else is in the room.'

  I didn't doubt her but I still looked for myself. In the process of scanning the room I realized that I was naked, except for a large white towel that was casually heaped on top of my private parts. I looked at the woman and then back at the towel, then back to her. She blushed and nodded.

  'I thought you would be more... comfortable, sir.'

  Comfort was not the word I would have gone for, but I was grateful for her efforts. Exactly how long I had been out of it became an issue for me and I glanced at my watch, or at least the part of my arm that used to have a watch. Things were beginning to fall into place, now. I had been mugged and robbed by the woman. I still couldn't remember her name, but I could remember she had a line-backer for a husband. Make that ex line-backer, but still strong enough to render me unconscious in a very short time.

  'Thank you,' I said, gesturing slowly with my throbbing head towards the towel. 'Have you called anybody? Hotel security or management? The police?

  'No, sir. I only just found you and I thought I should try and wake you first. I checked your pulse and I could see you were breathing because your chest was lifting up and down.' She nodded to herself as she ran through her CPR checklist. 'I'll call Security now and they will bring the hotel doctor.' She turned towards the phone on the bedside table and took a step.

  'Wait!' I said. The urgency in my voice caused her to promptly stop and turn back to me. 'What is your name?'

  'Kira, sir,' she answered with a confused look on her face, 'Kira Sachs. I'm a housemaid for the hotel.'

  'Nice to meet you, Kira,' I
said, 'this is all very embarrassing for me and I would really appreciate it if you wouldn't make that call. I feel fine,' I lied, 'I don't need any assistance.'

  'But I have to, sir. It is hotel policy. Any incident, no matter how insignificant, must be reported. These are very litigious times according to my boss. Whatever that means?'

  'It means that the hotel is worried that I will sue them, but I won't. You have my word on that, Kira.'

  'I'm very sorry, sir, but I have to report what happened, if I don't and word got out I would be fired and I can't afford to lose this job.'

  'I'm begging you, Kira, please don't report what happened.' Given the controversy I had been involved in lately the last thing I needed was more. I'd already managed to lose two good clients, I couldn't afford to lose the rest or my job would really be in jeopardy. I'd still keep Rick, of course. Apart from the fact that he was at the heart of my predicament, he was also my best friend.

  I frantically scanned the room for my jacket and realized I couldn't see it. Given that my watch had been taken I would have guessed that my wallet was gone - but my clothes, too? That was just cruel. Even my shoes were missing. On the plus side my socks were still on the floor.

  'Kira, I'm asking you to trust me. I have been robbed; not just my wallet but also all my clothes and my watch. If I had the wallet I'd be able to give you some money right now. But it's gone and I can't even show you my identification to prove that I'm genuine about that reward for you.'

  Kira looked at me with sympathy. 'I know who you are, sir.'

  'You do?' I looked skeptical. 'Have we met?' My picture was occasionally in the trade papers and I'd been featured on TV a few times, usually standing beside the famous client who was the actual subject of all the attention. I shook my head. 'I'm sure I don't know you, Kira.'

  'No, no. We have never met - but I know you...' My questioning frown produced a small pause. 'You're Lance.'

  ***

  I hope you enjoyed this very small section of my novel "Buy Me a Dream". There is a lot more to come in the lives of Sasha and Mark.