Trigger warning
Sex
Drugs
Violence
Anything you can think of trigger warning 👍
The city of Elyria is a great place, but don't get too comfortable. Turn down the wrong alley or wander into the wrong bar, and you'll find yourself in a world of trouble. My great uncle Eddie Langley believed that because he was in the family, no one would be brave enough to touch him. That schmuck didn't even understand what hit him. All of a sudden, he was laying cheek on the pavement, guzzling rainwater and blood. Shot by his right-hand man and childhood friend. Two straight to the chest, and you're ready to be buried six feet under. Then that same bastard took over the business and married his wife. Ain't that a bitch? You can't trust anyone. If you do, I hope you paid off your burial plot, or these goons will most likely just chuck you down the river.
There are a few locations where you could run into us regularly. My family, in particular, happens to be in the business of pleasure in its assorted forms. The highest odds of finding us would be my favorite nightclub at the end of Frank Street, Purple Daisy. Like tonight, you'll find us on the balcony, behind the velvet rope in our usual booth, looking over the whole damn spot. You'll most likely see us snorting the latest promising junk Anthony scored from his father. Rich boys come out looking pretty clean, even if our families are dirty. We all knew each other through our families' various business endeavors, and for the good of future relations, we were encouraged to take good care of each other. It didn't take long until our small congregation came to be known as the Tomcat boys. I was never a fan of the moniker. It made us sound ordinary. I can't say the same for my comrades; they couldn't get enough of it. “Let the girls say what they want, Claudiboy! Makes it easier for us when we toss them out, break of dawn in their knickers. They can't act surprised then! What do they expect? We’re tomcats after all,” Emanuel used to say.
Purple Daisy was a gift from my father, and for the past three years, it's been the hottest spot for the rich and the powerful kids of Elyria to go balls to the walls and come out pristine on the other end. A members-only safe space for the kinky and wild.
Psychedelic trance music spewed from the speakers, squeezing itself into my ears, aggravating a diligently earned headache. The continuous cycle of Neon Lights, late nights, and random beds have rendered me powerless for recovery. Who will be my sanctuary? I'm not the only one that would require a hiatus. The Brennan brothers slumped on top of each other, the older one still sporting a straw in his nose. Anthony has already plucked his chicks for tonight, probably off fucking in the Bugatti by now. Maybe I'll follow his lead and go home with one of the aerial acrobats. The way they twist, split, and spin on hoops caught my gaze a few times throughout the night. I wouldn't mind something bendy. Before all of that, I need ibuprofen, or I might just throw myself over the banister. The number of wannabe turtledoves has eased up. I should be able to get to the bartender easily enough; girls tend to lunge at us when we step out from behind the Velvet Rope. I guess that's why Louise decided to sit by the bar today. We all could see her, but none of us could stop her naive plan. Navy blue satin dress, a slim neck, short coffee brown hair, and a whole lot of repressed anger I wouldn't mind her taking out on me. Perhaps, merely for entertainment's sake, I should let her seduce me into her bed. Her winking at some random fellow at the bar reflects poorly on us regardless and demands swift action. If Emanuel were here, he would maintain his affairs. He's otherwise occupied, balls deep in some redhead visiting the city. You see, Emanuel has always been weak for the redheads.
Sad, stunning, Louise. Swiveling around the ice in her empty Collins glass. Flirting with yet another boy who wouldn't remember her name come tomorrow, nor will it evoke any jealousy out of Emanuel as she has wrongfully anticipated. I might as well do the girl a favor and earn a decent night's sleep between her thighs. It's been a while after all. Seeing Emanuel furious would be a success for us both. He's been overly prideful and irresponsible. He needs a reminder of his priorities. I Depart from the Brennan brothers napping at our booth, their faces planted on a mahogany pillow doused in blue powder and gin. Setting one foot ahead of the other, I follow the geometric neon shapes covering the walls, tracing them with my fingers. I lifted my Marlboro Reds, and with a flick of my Zippo, it was lit. The smell of smoke tingled my nostrils. At the blue glowing spiral staircase, I make an obvious glance at Louise; her eyes greet mine, then promptly redirect her focus to the fella. An obvious invitation to intrude. I'm not opposed to obliging. I was heading there anyway.
Rodriguez, My invaluable bartender. Always stows whatever cure I may desire at the end of an evening behind the register. Aware that I will visit him not solely for his amazing cocktail skills, but for his nursing talents as well. He's a good guy. “Claudius, haven't you had enough?” He says. “I am a masochist,” I confess. He filled a glass with ice then topped it off with water and put the glass in front of me. To him, I must look like a child about to have a tantrum after refusing to eat the broccoli forsaken on the plate. “Water or I ain't giving you no more drinks!” he says. “Who said I expect you to bring me a drink? I'm pretty sure the little dame over there ordered the precise mixture I enjoy.” “Claudius, I'm not playing around, haven't you had enough?” “I told you, Rod, I'm a masochist.” He could always tell when I was at my limit. He never preached, always let me do whatever I wanted. That's what I like about him. He did speak his mind, which I appreciated. Honest types like him are rare and far between. Recognizing which ones are real is the difficult part; people are decent performers. “You'll turn up dead in an alley one day!” he groaned as he wiped off the bar counter. “That's the most customary way to go. Are you saying it's dishonorable to die like that? Send down an old-fashioned and a lemon drop martini would you?” I said. Nodding my head in the direction of Louise and the boy she was flirting with. “I thought you didn't need me to make you any more drinks,” he said. Waving a maraschino cherry in my face before popping it in his mouth. “Don't start pouting, my friend. It's not for me. I instructed you to deliver it down there, didn't I? Just appreciate the show, would you? Live a little.” I get up, grabbing the glass of water. Sometimes you have to concede one battle to
win another. "Put it on Louise's tab, Buddy,” I say as I make my way to them. Louise had a lightness to her of a nymph. The slightest of movements she created gave you the feeling of watching feathers falling. She had been bred to have elegance and poise. But I knew that under that debutant education was a woman desperate to feel something real. That guy has no awareness that he's being toyed with; he'll be devoured by that succubus. They were sitting on the barstools with one empty seat in between them. Without saying anything I sit down and swivel my chair to face the gullible schmuck. “Hello pretty boy, you have a lovely face, has anybody told you that before?” I said. “I'm sorry, who are you?” he responds. “Who am I? You come to my family's Club. I compliment you and you don't even bother to compliment me back. Then, you ask me who I am! Where are your manners? Though, I'll forgive you on behalf of that cute face.” Rodriguez comes carrying a tray. The corners of his mouth contorted to keep the laughter from escaping his trout. “A Tom Collins, old-fashioned, and a lemon drop martini,” he says. Putting down one cocktail after the other. He glances at Louise, notifying her of my shenanigans to come. “But we didn't order-” “Sure we did, doll. A Tom Collins for me, a lemon drop for you, and an old-fashioned for gorgeous over here,” I chime in before Louise gets a chance to continue. “I'm sorry I didn't know, I didn't mean to offend. Please, I'll get out of your way. I'm really-”. His eyes widened so much that I was afraid they'd simply fall right out. Might have kept them too; mottled eyes go for a pretty penny on the market. “Don't fear gorgeous, this is a place for pleasure and debauchery, and your sins will be absolved. Actually-” I get up from my barstool, gripping onto the collar of his shirt, getting so close I can feel the heat from my breath bounce off his cheek as I whisper in his ear. “I'm doing you a favor. You know, she's one of those girls that likes watching two guys get down and dirty. Unbuttons her blouse real quick, if you know what I'm saying. Did you assume she was only going home with you? She's pulled this stunt a few times. I don't mind it, I experimented myself. But I speculate a pretty boy like you isn't adequately prepared for that kinda thing, you shouldn't just leap into the deep end like that. How about this, I'll give you a little taste. Then I suggest you make an excuse to leave and come back better prepared with some more experience.” I began sliding my chin along his cheek until our noses were aligned, lightly pressing up against each other. Waiting simply long enough for him to prepare for his surrender, I press my lips against his. Gripping a handful of hair, angling his head up. I divide his legs to get in even closer. He's hardly fighting me off. Is he in shock or turned on? His panting And clasping for my shirt were pleasant but surprising. I let him free to catch a bit of air, still controlling his movements with a firm grip on the back of his head. He looks up at me with the identical hollow stare as the vapid girls I was used to, begging to be filled with whatever I might have to offer, so pathetic. I let go of him and stepped back, seating myself down on the stool. “I have to go to the bathroom,” he said. His face flushed and his knees buckled. “I'm sure you do! You're welcome,” I say. Watching him trying to make sense of where he is and how he ended up there. “Pretty boy! don't forget your old-fashioned,” I said. He plucks the glass out of my hand and gives me a subtle bow before he staggers off into the muddled crowd still flailing about on the dance floor. “The princes made it down from his tower, and what an entrance he made,” Louise says grinning. “What would you have done if I never came down? Would you have taken him home?” “Why not? As you said, he is a looker,” she says. “I must be Adonis to you in that case, I've never seen you indulge Tom Collins. Your preferred drink is that lemon drop martini.” “You remember my preferred cocktail, am I your Aphrodite?” “You're a seductress, that's about equivalent, isn't it? How can I resist someone waving around my calling card so shamelessly?” I say. Lighting up another cigarette. Then slid the package over to her. “Do you believe my behavior is shameful?” she says. Taking one out and gesturing to Rodriguez to bring an ashtray. “Worse than shameful, More so desperate. Then again, Women desperate for your attention have that particular sort of pheromone.” I say. “Oh don't be ridiculous! if I'm desperate for anything, it's a little sympathetic quid pro quo, and don't you dare cover for him,” she said. “I have no idea what you're talking about? Like you, I've had numerous Tom Collins and snorted, Who knows what sort of drugs. All I know is you're a woman dangerously attracted to a man, and I'm a man too vulnerable to endure your allure, are you good with that?” “perfectly,” she said. “I'm heading to the bathroom first. Then I'll pick up some stuff and will be off.” I get up and stand behind Louise, laying one hand gently on her shoulder. “I'll be waiting,” she said. Caressing the brim of her empty martini glass. “Rod! Would you bring another Lemon drop Martini for the lady?” I called out to a distracted and overwhelmed bartender that had just been swallowed up by a small crowd of drunken customers. I lean forward and get a whiff of her bourbon vanilla perfume. “I look forward to discovering what you have in store for me this time,” I say. I make my way back up to the Brennan Brothers. I figured I might as well make sure they're all right before I go, god forbid one of them croaked of an overdose. I mean if both of them entered the long nap, it wouldn't have been as big of a deal. If you are the only man still alive you can always spin the story, you might even get something out of it if you spin a tale so good it resembles gold. However, if another one is there to contest what you're saying, that becomes a problem. If you're aware that another one will be there and also have their own story to share, you better have proof that your tale has a higher plausibility. you don't have to prove your story's validity, only that it's more plausible. They both were breathing just fine. I didn't feel like waking them up, if I had, it would be my responsibility to get these Knuckleheads home. I left a message with the waiters taking a break in the back. “Tell Rodriguez to lock up with sleeping
beauty brothers in the club and give them a blanket or something.” they nodded. “And you never saw me come out this way either,” I say, Before walking out and into the bustle. On the opposite end of Frank Street is a modest little hotdog stand called Franktastic, with the best hotdogs in the city. They haven't won any awards, but they have a special sauce that can't be found anywhere else, and countless people have tried getting them to give up the goods on their secret to no avail. I make it a point to pass by here after a night of partying, which is every night, to refill my durability levels. Nobody's a good fuck with their stamina drained. I give the menu a once-over and decide that I'm going to order the same thing as always: the Hound with the Special Sauce, and a little bit of pesto. Bliss in a bun. I grab my order and take a seat at a scuffed-up park bench close to the stand. The amount of people walking around aimlessly striving to find something that would make their dull lives a little better is astounding. Every one of them would, given the chance, sell out their friend for a little bit of joy. They're even more inclined if it's to be free of the heaviness of life's hardships. I knew this because I had seen it happen, over and over again. Hell, I participate. That's simply something you do unless you wanna be the friend that gets sold out. As I'm about to taste my first morsel of hotdog, I feel the buzzing of my phone. I get it out of my pants pocket and see the name Louise plastered on the screen. I deny the call and continue eating. I should have bought a drink as well. My phone buzzes again. I can push it a bit further. I decline her call one more time. On the third call, I pick up. “Hello, who is this?” I say. “Really! It's not funny, where the hell did you go?” “Oh, nowhere really, I bought hotdogs. I got one for you too.” “You said you were just going to the bathroom!” she shouts. “Yeah, but I'm also a drunk gentleman that happened to get hungry while I was away, so I figured I would buy us both food. Why are you irritated? Did I take that long?” “You bought food for me too?” she said, Her voice softening. “How about I call the taxi and we meet at your place? Just send me the address, and I'll make them pick us up. We'll eat a little food and drink a bottle of wine that I stole from the kitchen for us. I'll text you when they're outside.” I said. Laying on the charm reasonably thick. “All right, I'll send you my address.” “Alright then, see you there.”
Chapter 2 Forgiving Emmanuel
How many nights could I endure this? The sting of sun rays in my eyes signaled my failure. I lay there exposed to the Sandman's existence. Fourteen times tonight, I yearned and begged for the night's gentle void. I had been abandoned. Like so many nights before, he would maroon me, locked in this reality. While simple dames, burdened with life's trivialities, were awarded more paradise than they deserved.
I rolled over, and there she was, button nose with red cheeks. What horrors awaited her upon waking, I did not know. It seemed only fair to hang the guillotine over her head. She could escape to other worlds and heal at different times, whereas I was stuck here with the consequences of our choices. Since I might never leave the lands of make-believe, I'd be a tyrannical king, offering her up as a sacrifice to the whims of my envy. There were a million girls like her, with button noses and red cheeks, and I'd probably laid next to most of them. But there was no carpool ride to the land of the living dead.
Her snores made me want to strangle them right out of her. She hadn't done anything wrong, but her serene face provoked my wrath more than it should. For both our sakes, I reckoned I should withdraw myself from her presence, decreasing the likelihood of me becoming a murderer and her becoming a victim of said murder.
I got out of bed. The chill from the cold floor shivered up my spine, through my bare feet. The weight of gravity tugged at my shoulders. I walked through the cream-white hallway where paintings hung, too large for the walls that held them. The combined open space of the living room and kitchen seemed to be a trend of the affluent. Maybe they didn't like the confinements of tiny rooms when they'd been flying with spread wings their whole lives. I couldn't say I felt the same; I liked small spaces, always had. My favorite memories were made in small places where bodies squished together for comfort and warmth. We would catch fireflies and use them as night lights. Emanuel was at the time the only one of us who had a handle on reading. He would take us to whimsical worlds with trolls and talking moose, and we would all fall asleep in a tangled pile in our tent. I wished I could just sleep like that one more time.
I rummaged through the refrigerator expecting to snag something worthwhile. "There is some oat milk." I took out the red onion, lettuce, and vegan cream cheese. Then, to my delight, I found a few bagels in the cupboard. I made coffee and poured in some oat milk.
The sharp thumps at the door made me hurl the cream cheese knife straight into the living room, where it not so gracefully landed on a light blue couch. That's going to leave a stain. I grabbed my bagel and sauntered over to the door to discern if my suspicions were valid. But before getting the chance to peer through the peephole, I could hear him wailing as he banged more intensely.
"Claudius, I know you're in there and you're fucking dead. So is that cum-guzzling whore!!" I circled back around to the kitchen, leaving the bagel on the kitchen island, and grabbed my coffee instead. Whatever was about to happen next, I wanted to be a little alert. "You hear me, you fucking traitor, you're about to take the long nap, you razmataz-pursuing rat!" he squawked through the door.
"That would be great; all I want is a nap," I muttered to myself as I took a sip of my coffee and readied myself to open the door. And in one motion, I swung open the door and threw the remaining coffee in Emanuel's face.
"You need to calm down, I was extremely drunk and high. Do you hear me, Manny?" I threw the now-empty mug behind me before he got a chance to wipe all the coffee from his eyes. I heard it shatter with the distinct sound only porcelain makes. I grabbed Emanuel's face with both my hands. "All I know is that I woke up here, after that, I'm as clueless as you," I said.
Drenched in coffee and sweat, he released himself from my clasp and stormed into the apartment shouting for Louise. He took brisk, decisive steps through the hallway towards the bedroom. "Come out, you little bitch!" he shouted. When she, in her silk morning robe and cozy white slippers, slid into the hallway, her eyes wide with shock, I was reminded of the pretty boy from the previous night.
"Who let you in? I told the reception clerk you weren't welcome anymore!" she said, scowling at him as if she could keep him at bay with her eyes.
"Do you think you can stop me from going where I want to go in my city?" he said. I wasn't sure if he was going to grab her head and smash it into the wall with the giant paintings or fall to his knees bursting into tears. But he sure did seem like he could go either way.
"I do. That's why you schmoozed me in the first place, isn't it? You only have access to the city because of me, you asshole!" she said before trying her luck with a swing at him. The swing failed, and he got a hold of her wrist with one hand and grabbed the back of her head with the other. "I don't care if you think you have any power, my hand is so far up your dad's ass that he's become my ventriloquist dummy. If I want to go somewhere, I'll go there; you have nothing to do with it," he said before thrusting her backward. She landed on the floor ass first, with a smack.
"Oh really, like you were going around the whole city with that red-headed hussy!" she said, hissing at Emanuel as she got up and readied herself for a second try to attack.
"What are you talking about, crazy little bitch? That was a business investment? Do you know what that is, you self-indulgent little whore? Some of us value honoring agreements," he said, looking at her confused, possibly pondering when it was she started talking back to him like this. Hell, even I was surprised. "I don't believe anything that comes out of your viper mouth!" she said, stomping off into her bedroom. Emanuel and I followed right behind.
"At least I have a reason! What is yours? You jump into bed with my best friend! You'd yank out my heart like that? You were just looking for an excuse to be a fucking floozy!" he said, picking up shoes from her shoe shelf and flinging them at her. She curled up into a ball on the floor. A person can fold themselves into such tiny things.
"Then you, Claudius, how could you? You douse me with coffee after playing hide the sausage in my dame's knickers? Are you fucking defective?" he continued, now lobbing the shoes at me.
"I'm a victim here too, Manny! The boys and I were trying Anthony's new shit. You know how it is; she was a fucking alien to me. I was tasting fucking colors!" I said, covering my head with
my arms to avoid the projectile missiles in size 6.
"So if I check your phone, I won't find that you booty called my girl, and the other boys will vouch for you?" he said.
"The coffee is your fault, Manny! I was planning to drink it. You threatened to smoke me as soon as I opened the door. But I still opened it, didn't I? It's just coffee. I'll pay for the dry cleaning. You'll be as good as new," I said.
"Fuck the coffee, Claudius; will the boys vouch for you?"
"I swear, I was not the one. It wasn't until this morning when I rolled over, that I saw Louise. My heart broke for you, man," I said, putting my hands to my chest in a hopefully convincing performance of empathy. Louise unraveled herself from her protective fetal position, crawling up to Emanuel's feet. The guillotine I had hung was about to come loose, and she could feel it. "He's lying! Emanuel! I went home with him, yes. I was sad and mad. But he pursued me. He told me to come to the club," she said. He kicked her off and spat on her.
"I don't believe either of you for shit, give me your phones, both of you!" he said. I handed him my phone, and he scrolled through it. Lucky for me, this is what I prepared for. We've played this cat-and-mouse game so many times, Emanuel and I. He's never caught me in a lie, or rather, he's never found proof that I lied. There has always been evidence to support my counter-theory. Accusing one of your own is a bad look for people like us if we can't provide solid evidence.
"Louise, you called him like a fucking nutter at 3 am, why the fuck have you texted him your address? Do you think I'm stupid? Claudius, you're right! It's this bitch." I don't know where it came from, but in less than a second, his hand was no longer holding the phone and her brains were splattered on the floor and walls.
"Have you lost all your marbles, Manny? That's the duke's daughter! We can't clean this up!" I said.
"Don't you worry about that, Claudius; we're leaving. If the clerk downstairs says you looked sober, coming here last night, I'll shoot you too, right there in the lobby," he said, putting away his gun. He walked out of the room.
Poor Louise, I knew Emmanuel had been a bit unpredictable and reckless recently, but I did not believe he would go to these lengths. If I hadn't prepared evidence to bolster my case, I might have been the one having my brains splattered all over that room. I need to be extra cautious around him; the rules of our game have changed. We walk out of the apartment, he struts to the elevator and presses the button. We stand there, waiting in silence. A brutal, awkward, he-just-murdered-the-duke's-daughter kind of silence. The doors of the elevator open, and we get in. Barefoot and bare-chested, covered in specks of brain matter and blood, Emanuel's suit spotted just the same with the addition of coffee. We stand there in silence, letting the elevator music fill the space between us. Bossa nova music makes it somehow worse than the previous naked, hush. I used to like small spaces. In one moment, every loving good memory of cozy little spaces with Emanuel and the boys had been immersed in horrific possibilities of other outcomes. The elevator walls looked like they were leaning in, trying to eavesdrop on my rapidly increasing heartbeat, scared that the sound of it would reach Emmanuel's ears. I close my eyes for a second. We stand there like two goons, awaiting my fate.
"That redhead I met up with last night, she's my fiancée. We got engaged yesterday. Congratulate me! It's about to get interesting in our little city," he said, breaking the excruciating awkwardness.
"Is that so? Well, congratulations are in order then. I hope you two have a lovely life together. Do I know this girl?" I said with a not-so-convincing smile. "Careful, Claudius, we still haven't resolved this one, and you're already trying to jump in bed with my other girl," he said, looking back at me.
"Come on, Manny, I'm not trying to jump in bed with her; I'm just trying to figure out if I've already been there. So we don't have any misunderstandings in the future, you know."
"Feeling confident enough to make jokes? This might be your last breath, and you're wasting it on jokes?" he said.
The elevator doors open, and we're greeted with golden embossed walls and marble floors. The lobby was pretty much empty except for the clerk having a cup of coffee. I'm starting to sweat a bit as we walk up to him. Emanuel takes out his gun and lays it on the reception desk.
"Hey, Artur, I have a question for you, and you'll tell me the truth, right?" he said. Artur nodded.
"Last night, when this idiot came in here. Did he look fucked up to you?" Emanuel asked.
"Oh yeah, sir! He did. I had to carry him to Louise's apartment myself. I thought that he was going to die. He was going in and out of consciousness," he says, acting out my stellar performance from last night. It did resemble what I did last night, as I leaned on the glass doors waiting for him to let me in.
"I'm glad to see you're doing all right now. I asked her if I should call the ambulance, but she said she'd take care of it," Artur said. He straightened himself back out. The way he said it sounded like he was surprised that I lived. What I wasn't sure of, as if he was surprised I survived last night or Emanuel's fragile ego today.
"Artur, I've taken care of you; I've treated you as my own. You're not lying to me, are you?" Emanuel said, deepening his voice, a mere imitation of his father's more imposing rumbling notes.
"I wouldn't lie to you, sir, I swear. When he came in, he looked like he was about ready to croak."
"Well, then, Claudiboy, I'm sorry I didn't believe you. She used you. I'm sorry about this, to make up for my suspicion, I'll buy you breakfast. Are we good? I was gonna meet up with Anthony and eat some bagels. What do you say?"
"Yeah, no problem, but what are we going to do with, you know
, the trouble upstairs?" I said, delighted I was going to get to keep my head for another day.
"You don't need to worry about that; it's already been taken care of. Isn't that right, Artur? You'll take care of it, won't you?"
"Oh yes, sir, they're already on their way."
"See, Claudiboy, we good."
A limousine parked in front of the entrance. Emanuel got in before me. I slid myself in after him, bits of Louise still uncomfortably clinging to me, like we'd been shot at with red and pink biological confetti cannons. He tossed a warm, wet towel to me. "Clean yourself up," he said, still using the stolen voice of his father. I did as he said. He took off his suit and cleaned himself too. It was strange; now that we were both naked in the back of a limousine, he seemed harmless again. As if he hadn't just murdered a girl. I felt my mind trying to erase the memory of it all. It's not like I'm trying to forget; it's more like a dream—you remember at first, but as more minutes pass, the details fade until all you remember is that you had a dream and how it made you feel, but you can't remember why. When you try to remember, it's even more disjointed and unreliable. Something so clear and profound becomes a nonsense jumble of uninterpretable images. "Here, put this on; we can't have you walking around looking more tragic than you already do!" he said, handing me one of the suits that had been prepared in the limousine for us. So he wasn't convinced I had fucked him over, and this wasn't blind rage. Damn him, he was testing my loyalty. He set me up; I was in more danger than I thought. "You seem to be in deep thought, Claudius; anything, in particular, bothering you?"
"You shot her, Manny! That's against our code. No women and children," I said.
"Maybe our code needs revision; women can cause us just as much trouble as men, and we should treat them equally. Don't you think?"
"That's not how we do things, Manny! What's the honor in blasting the poor girl into avant-garde wallpaper?"
"You sound like you cared about her, Claudiboy. It makes me nervous to hear you talk like this. You love me more, right?"
"I am not saying this because I care about some floozy; I am saying it because I love you. I don't want to see you do something that gets you more enemies than you can handle," I said.
"Don't worry, Claudiboy; I will show you. There is a new world order taking its place, and you and I will be at the top of it. If you dare to have a little faith."
The limousine stopped in front of the Lunar Lounge Cafe on Levier Street, only two blocks from Frank Street. I thought about running to the club and locking myself in there to escape Emanuel, but I'm probably safer here. When we stepped out of the limousine, you wouldn't have had any clue that we'd been covered in specks of human sludge. You would see exactly what we wanted you to see: dapper young men about to share a coffee. I would give anything to leave though; I don't want to be close to him at all. The adrenaline is leaving my body now too, bringing back the reality of what happens if you don't get a proper night's sleep for a month. My kingdom for a bed.
Anthony greeted us at the entrance. "Claudius, what the hell are you doing here? You have deliveries today. I dropped the last van off at your dad's. Just before I came here." Bless you, Anthony! You will be rewarded for your impeccable timing. My knight in shining armor! "Shit, I forgot; I'll run over right now. Rain check on the apology breakfast, Manny; duty calls," I said. As I left, I heard Anthony. "Emanuel, I know you like coffee, but did you take a bath in it? You smell like a human espresso."
Words by Sipora
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Written on 2024-02-20 at 01:31
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Sex
Drugs
Violence
Anything you can think of trigger warning 👍
A book in installments chapter 1 and 2 rough draft
Chapter 1: Comforting LouiseThe city of Elyria is a great place, but don't get too comfortable. Turn down the wrong alley or wander into the wrong bar, and you'll find yourself in a world of trouble. My great uncle Eddie Langley believed that because he was in the family, no one would be brave enough to touch him. That schmuck didn't even understand what hit him. All of a sudden, he was laying cheek on the pavement, guzzling rainwater and blood. Shot by his right-hand man and childhood friend. Two straight to the chest, and you're ready to be buried six feet under. Then that same bastard took over the business and married his wife. Ain't that a bitch? You can't trust anyone. If you do, I hope you paid off your burial plot, or these goons will most likely just chuck you down the river.
There are a few locations where you could run into us regularly. My family, in particular, happens to be in the business of pleasure in its assorted forms. The highest odds of finding us would be my favorite nightclub at the end of Frank Street, Purple Daisy. Like tonight, you'll find us on the balcony, behind the velvet rope in our usual booth, looking over the whole damn spot. You'll most likely see us snorting the latest promising junk Anthony scored from his father. Rich boys come out looking pretty clean, even if our families are dirty. We all knew each other through our families' various business endeavors, and for the good of future relations, we were encouraged to take good care of each other. It didn't take long until our small congregation came to be known as the Tomcat boys. I was never a fan of the moniker. It made us sound ordinary. I can't say the same for my comrades; they couldn't get enough of it. “Let the girls say what they want, Claudiboy! Makes it easier for us when we toss them out, break of dawn in their knickers. They can't act surprised then! What do they expect? We’re tomcats after all,” Emanuel used to say.
Purple Daisy was a gift from my father, and for the past three years, it's been the hottest spot for the rich and the powerful kids of Elyria to go balls to the walls and come out pristine on the other end. A members-only safe space for the kinky and wild.
Psychedelic trance music spewed from the speakers, squeezing itself into my ears, aggravating a diligently earned headache. The continuous cycle of Neon Lights, late nights, and random beds have rendered me powerless for recovery. Who will be my sanctuary? I'm not the only one that would require a hiatus. The Brennan brothers slumped on top of each other, the older one still sporting a straw in his nose. Anthony has already plucked his chicks for tonight, probably off fucking in the Bugatti by now. Maybe I'll follow his lead and go home with one of the aerial acrobats. The way they twist, split, and spin on hoops caught my gaze a few times throughout the night. I wouldn't mind something bendy. Before all of that, I need ibuprofen, or I might just throw myself over the banister. The number of wannabe turtledoves has eased up. I should be able to get to the bartender easily enough; girls tend to lunge at us when we step out from behind the Velvet Rope. I guess that's why Louise decided to sit by the bar today. We all could see her, but none of us could stop her naive plan. Navy blue satin dress, a slim neck, short coffee brown hair, and a whole lot of repressed anger I wouldn't mind her taking out on me. Perhaps, merely for entertainment's sake, I should let her seduce me into her bed. Her winking at some random fellow at the bar reflects poorly on us regardless and demands swift action. If Emanuel were here, he would maintain his affairs. He's otherwise occupied, balls deep in some redhead visiting the city. You see, Emanuel has always been weak for the redheads.
Sad, stunning, Louise. Swiveling around the ice in her empty Collins glass. Flirting with yet another boy who wouldn't remember her name come tomorrow, nor will it evoke any jealousy out of Emanuel as she has wrongfully anticipated. I might as well do the girl a favor and earn a decent night's sleep between her thighs. It's been a while after all. Seeing Emanuel furious would be a success for us both. He's been overly prideful and irresponsible. He needs a reminder of his priorities. I Depart from the Brennan brothers napping at our booth, their faces planted on a mahogany pillow doused in blue powder and gin. Setting one foot ahead of the other, I follow the geometric neon shapes covering the walls, tracing them with my fingers. I lifted my Marlboro Reds, and with a flick of my Zippo, it was lit. The smell of smoke tingled my nostrils. At the blue glowing spiral staircase, I make an obvious glance at Louise; her eyes greet mine, then promptly redirect her focus to the fella. An obvious invitation to intrude. I'm not opposed to obliging. I was heading there anyway.
Rodriguez, My invaluable bartender. Always stows whatever cure I may desire at the end of an evening behind the register. Aware that I will visit him not solely for his amazing cocktail skills, but for his nursing talents as well. He's a good guy. “Claudius, haven't you had enough?” He says. “I am a masochist,” I confess. He filled a glass with ice then topped it off with water and put the glass in front of me. To him, I must look like a child about to have a tantrum after refusing to eat the broccoli forsaken on the plate. “Water or I ain't giving you no more drinks!” he says. “Who said I expect you to bring me a drink? I'm pretty sure the little dame over there ordered the precise mixture I enjoy.” “Claudius, I'm not playing around, haven't you had enough?” “I told you, Rod, I'm a masochist.” He could always tell when I was at my limit. He never preached, always let me do whatever I wanted. That's what I like about him. He did speak his mind, which I appreciated. Honest types like him are rare and far between. Recognizing which ones are real is the difficult part; people are decent performers. “You'll turn up dead in an alley one day!” he groaned as he wiped off the bar counter. “That's the most customary way to go. Are you saying it's dishonorable to die like that? Send down an old-fashioned and a lemon drop martini would you?” I said. Nodding my head in the direction of Louise and the boy she was flirting with. “I thought you didn't need me to make you any more drinks,” he said. Waving a maraschino cherry in my face before popping it in his mouth. “Don't start pouting, my friend. It's not for me. I instructed you to deliver it down there, didn't I? Just appreciate the show, would you? Live a little.” I get up, grabbing the glass of water. Sometimes you have to concede one battle to
win another. "Put it on Louise's tab, Buddy,” I say as I make my way to them. Louise had a lightness to her of a nymph. The slightest of movements she created gave you the feeling of watching feathers falling. She had been bred to have elegance and poise. But I knew that under that debutant education was a woman desperate to feel something real. That guy has no awareness that he's being toyed with; he'll be devoured by that succubus. They were sitting on the barstools with one empty seat in between them. Without saying anything I sit down and swivel my chair to face the gullible schmuck. “Hello pretty boy, you have a lovely face, has anybody told you that before?” I said. “I'm sorry, who are you?” he responds. “Who am I? You come to my family's Club. I compliment you and you don't even bother to compliment me back. Then, you ask me who I am! Where are your manners? Though, I'll forgive you on behalf of that cute face.” Rodriguez comes carrying a tray. The corners of his mouth contorted to keep the laughter from escaping his trout. “A Tom Collins, old-fashioned, and a lemon drop martini,” he says. Putting down one cocktail after the other. He glances at Louise, notifying her of my shenanigans to come. “But we didn't order-” “Sure we did, doll. A Tom Collins for me, a lemon drop for you, and an old-fashioned for gorgeous over here,” I chime in before Louise gets a chance to continue. “I'm sorry I didn't know, I didn't mean to offend. Please, I'll get out of your way. I'm really-”. His eyes widened so much that I was afraid they'd simply fall right out. Might have kept them too; mottled eyes go for a pretty penny on the market. “Don't fear gorgeous, this is a place for pleasure and debauchery, and your sins will be absolved. Actually-” I get up from my barstool, gripping onto the collar of his shirt, getting so close I can feel the heat from my breath bounce off his cheek as I whisper in his ear. “I'm doing you a favor. You know, she's one of those girls that likes watching two guys get down and dirty. Unbuttons her blouse real quick, if you know what I'm saying. Did you assume she was only going home with you? She's pulled this stunt a few times. I don't mind it, I experimented myself. But I speculate a pretty boy like you isn't adequately prepared for that kinda thing, you shouldn't just leap into the deep end like that. How about this, I'll give you a little taste. Then I suggest you make an excuse to leave and come back better prepared with some more experience.” I began sliding my chin along his cheek until our noses were aligned, lightly pressing up against each other. Waiting simply long enough for him to prepare for his surrender, I press my lips against his. Gripping a handful of hair, angling his head up. I divide his legs to get in even closer. He's hardly fighting me off. Is he in shock or turned on? His panting And clasping for my shirt were pleasant but surprising. I let him free to catch a bit of air, still controlling his movements with a firm grip on the back of his head. He looks up at me with the identical hollow stare as the vapid girls I was used to, begging to be filled with whatever I might have to offer, so pathetic. I let go of him and stepped back, seating myself down on the stool. “I have to go to the bathroom,” he said. His face flushed and his knees buckled. “I'm sure you do! You're welcome,” I say. Watching him trying to make sense of where he is and how he ended up there. “Pretty boy! don't forget your old-fashioned,” I said. He plucks the glass out of my hand and gives me a subtle bow before he staggers off into the muddled crowd still flailing about on the dance floor. “The princes made it down from his tower, and what an entrance he made,” Louise says grinning. “What would you have done if I never came down? Would you have taken him home?” “Why not? As you said, he is a looker,” she says. “I must be Adonis to you in that case, I've never seen you indulge Tom Collins. Your preferred drink is that lemon drop martini.” “You remember my preferred cocktail, am I your Aphrodite?” “You're a seductress, that's about equivalent, isn't it? How can I resist someone waving around my calling card so shamelessly?” I say. Lighting up another cigarette. Then slid the package over to her. “Do you believe my behavior is shameful?” she says. Taking one out and gesturing to Rodriguez to bring an ashtray. “Worse than shameful, More so desperate. Then again, Women desperate for your attention have that particular sort of pheromone.” I say. “Oh don't be ridiculous! if I'm desperate for anything, it's a little sympathetic quid pro quo, and don't you dare cover for him,” she said. “I have no idea what you're talking about? Like you, I've had numerous Tom Collins and snorted, Who knows what sort of drugs. All I know is you're a woman dangerously attracted to a man, and I'm a man too vulnerable to endure your allure, are you good with that?” “perfectly,” she said. “I'm heading to the bathroom first. Then I'll pick up some stuff and will be off.” I get up and stand behind Louise, laying one hand gently on her shoulder. “I'll be waiting,” she said. Caressing the brim of her empty martini glass. “Rod! Would you bring another Lemon drop Martini for the lady?” I called out to a distracted and overwhelmed bartender that had just been swallowed up by a small crowd of drunken customers. I lean forward and get a whiff of her bourbon vanilla perfume. “I look forward to discovering what you have in store for me this time,” I say. I make my way back up to the Brennan Brothers. I figured I might as well make sure they're all right before I go, god forbid one of them croaked of an overdose. I mean if both of them entered the long nap, it wouldn't have been as big of a deal. If you are the only man still alive you can always spin the story, you might even get something out of it if you spin a tale so good it resembles gold. However, if another one is there to contest what you're saying, that becomes a problem. If you're aware that another one will be there and also have their own story to share, you better have proof that your tale has a higher plausibility. you don't have to prove your story's validity, only that it's more plausible. They both were breathing just fine. I didn't feel like waking them up, if I had, it would be my responsibility to get these Knuckleheads home. I left a message with the waiters taking a break in the back. “Tell Rodriguez to lock up with sleeping
beauty brothers in the club and give them a blanket or something.” they nodded. “And you never saw me come out this way either,” I say, Before walking out and into the bustle. On the opposite end of Frank Street is a modest little hotdog stand called Franktastic, with the best hotdogs in the city. They haven't won any awards, but they have a special sauce that can't be found anywhere else, and countless people have tried getting them to give up the goods on their secret to no avail. I make it a point to pass by here after a night of partying, which is every night, to refill my durability levels. Nobody's a good fuck with their stamina drained. I give the menu a once-over and decide that I'm going to order the same thing as always: the Hound with the Special Sauce, and a little bit of pesto. Bliss in a bun. I grab my order and take a seat at a scuffed-up park bench close to the stand. The amount of people walking around aimlessly striving to find something that would make their dull lives a little better is astounding. Every one of them would, given the chance, sell out their friend for a little bit of joy. They're even more inclined if it's to be free of the heaviness of life's hardships. I knew this because I had seen it happen, over and over again. Hell, I participate. That's simply something you do unless you wanna be the friend that gets sold out. As I'm about to taste my first morsel of hotdog, I feel the buzzing of my phone. I get it out of my pants pocket and see the name Louise plastered on the screen. I deny the call and continue eating. I should have bought a drink as well. My phone buzzes again. I can push it a bit further. I decline her call one more time. On the third call, I pick up. “Hello, who is this?” I say. “Really! It's not funny, where the hell did you go?” “Oh, nowhere really, I bought hotdogs. I got one for you too.” “You said you were just going to the bathroom!” she shouts. “Yeah, but I'm also a drunk gentleman that happened to get hungry while I was away, so I figured I would buy us both food. Why are you irritated? Did I take that long?” “You bought food for me too?” she said, Her voice softening. “How about I call the taxi and we meet at your place? Just send me the address, and I'll make them pick us up. We'll eat a little food and drink a bottle of wine that I stole from the kitchen for us. I'll text you when they're outside.” I said. Laying on the charm reasonably thick. “All right, I'll send you my address.” “Alright then, see you there.”
Chapter 2 Forgiving Emmanuel
How many nights could I endure this? The sting of sun rays in my eyes signaled my failure. I lay there exposed to the Sandman's existence. Fourteen times tonight, I yearned and begged for the night's gentle void. I had been abandoned. Like so many nights before, he would maroon me, locked in this reality. While simple dames, burdened with life's trivialities, were awarded more paradise than they deserved.
I rolled over, and there she was, button nose with red cheeks. What horrors awaited her upon waking, I did not know. It seemed only fair to hang the guillotine over her head. She could escape to other worlds and heal at different times, whereas I was stuck here with the consequences of our choices. Since I might never leave the lands of make-believe, I'd be a tyrannical king, offering her up as a sacrifice to the whims of my envy. There were a million girls like her, with button noses and red cheeks, and I'd probably laid next to most of them. But there was no carpool ride to the land of the living dead.
Her snores made me want to strangle them right out of her. She hadn't done anything wrong, but her serene face provoked my wrath more than it should. For both our sakes, I reckoned I should withdraw myself from her presence, decreasing the likelihood of me becoming a murderer and her becoming a victim of said murder.
I got out of bed. The chill from the cold floor shivered up my spine, through my bare feet. The weight of gravity tugged at my shoulders. I walked through the cream-white hallway where paintings hung, too large for the walls that held them. The combined open space of the living room and kitchen seemed to be a trend of the affluent. Maybe they didn't like the confinements of tiny rooms when they'd been flying with spread wings their whole lives. I couldn't say I felt the same; I liked small spaces, always had. My favorite memories were made in small places where bodies squished together for comfort and warmth. We would catch fireflies and use them as night lights. Emanuel was at the time the only one of us who had a handle on reading. He would take us to whimsical worlds with trolls and talking moose, and we would all fall asleep in a tangled pile in our tent. I wished I could just sleep like that one more time.
I rummaged through the refrigerator expecting to snag something worthwhile. "There is some oat milk." I took out the red onion, lettuce, and vegan cream cheese. Then, to my delight, I found a few bagels in the cupboard. I made coffee and poured in some oat milk.
The sharp thumps at the door made me hurl the cream cheese knife straight into the living room, where it not so gracefully landed on a light blue couch. That's going to leave a stain. I grabbed my bagel and sauntered over to the door to discern if my suspicions were valid. But before getting the chance to peer through the peephole, I could hear him wailing as he banged more intensely.
"Claudius, I know you're in there and you're fucking dead. So is that cum-guzzling whore!!" I circled back around to the kitchen, leaving the bagel on the kitchen island, and grabbed my coffee instead. Whatever was about to happen next, I wanted to be a little alert. "You hear me, you fucking traitor, you're about to take the long nap, you razmataz-pursuing rat!" he squawked through the door.
"That would be great; all I want is a nap," I muttered to myself as I took a sip of my coffee and readied myself to open the door. And in one motion, I swung open the door and threw the remaining coffee in Emanuel's face.
"You need to calm down, I was extremely drunk and high. Do you hear me, Manny?" I threw the now-empty mug behind me before he got a chance to wipe all the coffee from his eyes. I heard it shatter with the distinct sound only porcelain makes. I grabbed Emanuel's face with both my hands. "All I know is that I woke up here, after that, I'm as clueless as you," I said.
Drenched in coffee and sweat, he released himself from my clasp and stormed into the apartment shouting for Louise. He took brisk, decisive steps through the hallway towards the bedroom. "Come out, you little bitch!" he shouted. When she, in her silk morning robe and cozy white slippers, slid into the hallway, her eyes wide with shock, I was reminded of the pretty boy from the previous night.
"Who let you in? I told the reception clerk you weren't welcome anymore!" she said, scowling at him as if she could keep him at bay with her eyes.
"Do you think you can stop me from going where I want to go in my city?" he said. I wasn't sure if he was going to grab her head and smash it into the wall with the giant paintings or fall to his knees bursting into tears. But he sure did seem like he could go either way.
"I do. That's why you schmoozed me in the first place, isn't it? You only have access to the city because of me, you asshole!" she said before trying her luck with a swing at him. The swing failed, and he got a hold of her wrist with one hand and grabbed the back of her head with the other. "I don't care if you think you have any power, my hand is so far up your dad's ass that he's become my ventriloquist dummy. If I want to go somewhere, I'll go there; you have nothing to do with it," he said before thrusting her backward. She landed on the floor ass first, with a smack.
"Oh really, like you were going around the whole city with that red-headed hussy!" she said, hissing at Emanuel as she got up and readied herself for a second try to attack.
"What are you talking about, crazy little bitch? That was a business investment? Do you know what that is, you self-indulgent little whore? Some of us value honoring agreements," he said, looking at her confused, possibly pondering when it was she started talking back to him like this. Hell, even I was surprised. "I don't believe anything that comes out of your viper mouth!" she said, stomping off into her bedroom. Emanuel and I followed right behind.
"At least I have a reason! What is yours? You jump into bed with my best friend! You'd yank out my heart like that? You were just looking for an excuse to be a fucking floozy!" he said, picking up shoes from her shoe shelf and flinging them at her. She curled up into a ball on the floor. A person can fold themselves into such tiny things.
"Then you, Claudius, how could you? You douse me with coffee after playing hide the sausage in my dame's knickers? Are you fucking defective?" he continued, now lobbing the shoes at me.
"I'm a victim here too, Manny! The boys and I were trying Anthony's new shit. You know how it is; she was a fucking alien to me. I was tasting fucking colors!" I said, covering my head with
my arms to avoid the projectile missiles in size 6.
"So if I check your phone, I won't find that you booty called my girl, and the other boys will vouch for you?" he said.
"The coffee is your fault, Manny! I was planning to drink it. You threatened to smoke me as soon as I opened the door. But I still opened it, didn't I? It's just coffee. I'll pay for the dry cleaning. You'll be as good as new," I said.
"Fuck the coffee, Claudius; will the boys vouch for you?"
"I swear, I was not the one. It wasn't until this morning when I rolled over, that I saw Louise. My heart broke for you, man," I said, putting my hands to my chest in a hopefully convincing performance of empathy. Louise unraveled herself from her protective fetal position, crawling up to Emanuel's feet. The guillotine I had hung was about to come loose, and she could feel it. "He's lying! Emanuel! I went home with him, yes. I was sad and mad. But he pursued me. He told me to come to the club," she said. He kicked her off and spat on her.
"I don't believe either of you for shit, give me your phones, both of you!" he said. I handed him my phone, and he scrolled through it. Lucky for me, this is what I prepared for. We've played this cat-and-mouse game so many times, Emanuel and I. He's never caught me in a lie, or rather, he's never found proof that I lied. There has always been evidence to support my counter-theory. Accusing one of your own is a bad look for people like us if we can't provide solid evidence.
"Louise, you called him like a fucking nutter at 3 am, why the fuck have you texted him your address? Do you think I'm stupid? Claudius, you're right! It's this bitch." I don't know where it came from, but in less than a second, his hand was no longer holding the phone and her brains were splattered on the floor and walls.
"Have you lost all your marbles, Manny? That's the duke's daughter! We can't clean this up!" I said.
"Don't you worry about that, Claudius; we're leaving. If the clerk downstairs says you looked sober, coming here last night, I'll shoot you too, right there in the lobby," he said, putting away his gun. He walked out of the room.
Poor Louise, I knew Emmanuel had been a bit unpredictable and reckless recently, but I did not believe he would go to these lengths. If I hadn't prepared evidence to bolster my case, I might have been the one having my brains splattered all over that room. I need to be extra cautious around him; the rules of our game have changed. We walk out of the apartment, he struts to the elevator and presses the button. We stand there, waiting in silence. A brutal, awkward, he-just-murdered-the-duke's-daughter kind of silence. The doors of the elevator open, and we get in. Barefoot and bare-chested, covered in specks of brain matter and blood, Emanuel's suit spotted just the same with the addition of coffee. We stand there in silence, letting the elevator music fill the space between us. Bossa nova music makes it somehow worse than the previous naked, hush. I used to like small spaces. In one moment, every loving good memory of cozy little spaces with Emanuel and the boys had been immersed in horrific possibilities of other outcomes. The elevator walls looked like they were leaning in, trying to eavesdrop on my rapidly increasing heartbeat, scared that the sound of it would reach Emmanuel's ears. I close my eyes for a second. We stand there like two goons, awaiting my fate.
"That redhead I met up with last night, she's my fiancée. We got engaged yesterday. Congratulate me! It's about to get interesting in our little city," he said, breaking the excruciating awkwardness.
"Is that so? Well, congratulations are in order then. I hope you two have a lovely life together. Do I know this girl?" I said with a not-so-convincing smile. "Careful, Claudius, we still haven't resolved this one, and you're already trying to jump in bed with my other girl," he said, looking back at me.
"Come on, Manny, I'm not trying to jump in bed with her; I'm just trying to figure out if I've already been there. So we don't have any misunderstandings in the future, you know."
"Feeling confident enough to make jokes? This might be your last breath, and you're wasting it on jokes?" he said.
The elevator doors open, and we're greeted with golden embossed walls and marble floors. The lobby was pretty much empty except for the clerk having a cup of coffee. I'm starting to sweat a bit as we walk up to him. Emanuel takes out his gun and lays it on the reception desk.
"Hey, Artur, I have a question for you, and you'll tell me the truth, right?" he said. Artur nodded.
"Last night, when this idiot came in here. Did he look fucked up to you?" Emanuel asked.
"Oh yeah, sir! He did. I had to carry him to Louise's apartment myself. I thought that he was going to die. He was going in and out of consciousness," he says, acting out my stellar performance from last night. It did resemble what I did last night, as I leaned on the glass doors waiting for him to let me in.
"I'm glad to see you're doing all right now. I asked her if I should call the ambulance, but she said she'd take care of it," Artur said. He straightened himself back out. The way he said it sounded like he was surprised that I lived. What I wasn't sure of, as if he was surprised I survived last night or Emanuel's fragile ego today.
"Artur, I've taken care of you; I've treated you as my own. You're not lying to me, are you?" Emanuel said, deepening his voice, a mere imitation of his father's more imposing rumbling notes.
"I wouldn't lie to you, sir, I swear. When he came in, he looked like he was about ready to croak."
"Well, then, Claudiboy, I'm sorry I didn't believe you. She used you. I'm sorry about this, to make up for my suspicion, I'll buy you breakfast. Are we good? I was gonna meet up with Anthony and eat some bagels. What do you say?"
"Yeah, no problem, but what are we going to do with, you know
, the trouble upstairs?" I said, delighted I was going to get to keep my head for another day.
"You don't need to worry about that; it's already been taken care of. Isn't that right, Artur? You'll take care of it, won't you?"
"Oh yes, sir, they're already on their way."
"See, Claudiboy, we good."
A limousine parked in front of the entrance. Emanuel got in before me. I slid myself in after him, bits of Louise still uncomfortably clinging to me, like we'd been shot at with red and pink biological confetti cannons. He tossed a warm, wet towel to me. "Clean yourself up," he said, still using the stolen voice of his father. I did as he said. He took off his suit and cleaned himself too. It was strange; now that we were both naked in the back of a limousine, he seemed harmless again. As if he hadn't just murdered a girl. I felt my mind trying to erase the memory of it all. It's not like I'm trying to forget; it's more like a dream—you remember at first, but as more minutes pass, the details fade until all you remember is that you had a dream and how it made you feel, but you can't remember why. When you try to remember, it's even more disjointed and unreliable. Something so clear and profound becomes a nonsense jumble of uninterpretable images. "Here, put this on; we can't have you walking around looking more tragic than you already do!" he said, handing me one of the suits that had been prepared in the limousine for us. So he wasn't convinced I had fucked him over, and this wasn't blind rage. Damn him, he was testing my loyalty. He set me up; I was in more danger than I thought. "You seem to be in deep thought, Claudius; anything, in particular, bothering you?"
"You shot her, Manny! That's against our code. No women and children," I said.
"Maybe our code needs revision; women can cause us just as much trouble as men, and we should treat them equally. Don't you think?"
"That's not how we do things, Manny! What's the honor in blasting the poor girl into avant-garde wallpaper?"
"You sound like you cared about her, Claudiboy. It makes me nervous to hear you talk like this. You love me more, right?"
"I am not saying this because I care about some floozy; I am saying it because I love you. I don't want to see you do something that gets you more enemies than you can handle," I said.
"Don't worry, Claudiboy; I will show you. There is a new world order taking its place, and you and I will be at the top of it. If you dare to have a little faith."
The limousine stopped in front of the Lunar Lounge Cafe on Levier Street, only two blocks from Frank Street. I thought about running to the club and locking myself in there to escape Emanuel, but I'm probably safer here. When we stepped out of the limousine, you wouldn't have had any clue that we'd been covered in specks of human sludge. You would see exactly what we wanted you to see: dapper young men about to share a coffee. I would give anything to leave though; I don't want to be close to him at all. The adrenaline is leaving my body now too, bringing back the reality of what happens if you don't get a proper night's sleep for a month. My kingdom for a bed.
Anthony greeted us at the entrance. "Claudius, what the hell are you doing here? You have deliveries today. I dropped the last van off at your dad's. Just before I came here." Bless you, Anthony! You will be rewarded for your impeccable timing. My knight in shining armor! "Shit, I forgot; I'll run over right now. Rain check on the apology breakfast, Manny; duty calls," I said. As I left, I heard Anthony. "Emanuel, I know you like coffee, but did you take a bath in it? You smell like a human espresso."
Words by Sipora
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Written on 2024-02-20 at 01:31
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