Short Story #12: Treason

We discovered the bugs in the apartment, we discovered them last Tuesday, and only by accident. There were only about three or four of them, but they were well placed, well hidden. However they were only intermittent ones; when Alison was on the phone she thought she heard her voice being delayed and could hear it on the other end of the line until she realised that what was being said was a conversation she had with me about two days before. Immediately she screamed my name and I knew something was up because I was in the shower and while she never normally screams my name I knew something had to be wrong. About three seconds later there was really loud music blaring from the apartment living room, and then five seconds after that the bathroom door swung open, and I turned off the shower. “Turn it back on, I’m getting in.” “What?” “Turn the shower back on baby.” “Baby?” “Just do it” she says, stripping completely naked, making me try to remember when I saw her naked the last time (it was about ten years ago when we were kids). She opened the glass door aggressively and jumped in. She smiled as she closed the door but then her face dropped and she looked into my eyes and it was there I could see the terror in the back of her head through her eyes and I grabbed her soft arms and before I could say anything she whispered. “What?” I ask, not quite hearing. “We’ve been bugged.” “Bugged?” “Yeah.” “Don’t look at me like that Michael. We’ve been bugged.” She then explained to me what she heard on the phone. “It’s intermittent.” We both say at the same time. “That’s like,” “They must think we’re in the industry too.” “What do you mean?” “If we didn’t do what we do now Alison they would have put a standard government issue one in, and if we somehow managed to get any static on the phones or television, we wouldn’t have thought anything of it.” “I’m going to look for them.” “Michael, what?” “Alison, pack our bags. Just get basic things, we can leave the rest of it here. But we can’t leave any idea we’ve just left. I’ll dryclean the apartment.” “You mean….” “Yes.” It took about three hours to find them all. Whoever placed them was very, very good. What they didn’t anticipate was that we would find them. My father worked for the OSS back during the Cold War, and then when it changed to the Central Intelligence Agency, and because he was so neurotic and paranoid that we we’re going to get fucked by the Russians, over the years he showed me how to act like the enemy, and anticipate the enemy. He showed me his tradecraft, the tricks he knew; he showed me how to surveillance someone, and how to crash a car, how to drive like a rally car driver, how to out-run, outsmart, and stay alive. Taught me how to manipulate others, how to leave no traces, no trails, no signs. I was six when he started, and didn’t stop teaching me anything until the day he died; I was twenty-two. Those who knew my father in the Company (slang) still call him a cowboy. We left later that night. We each had a bag, I dressed up in a suit, and Alison donned a small black dress and heels. We told the doorman we we’re off to the DuPont for Children Charity in the Upper East Side, and we’d be back in a few hours. We deliberately told him this because Alison noted that he had never spoken to us properly until about a month ago and this made her suspicious. We drove for hours, in about four different vehicles. When we felt we had been in one for too long, we would stop, park, clean, and find another one, and drive again. About the second car in, Alison felt comfortable and changed into jeans and t-shirt, and then took over my shift, so I could change and sleep. Half way through the night, I called my dad’s brother, Albert, who was also in the Company. I knew they had a safe house up in Portland, Maine, and this surprised Albert but either way I told him it was serious and he would meet us anyway.

We arrived the next night as instructed – we wanted to get there in the morning but we were told not to – and arrived just outside of Portland. Alison took some fireworks out – we picked up some from the local drugstore at the request of Albert. Alison didn’t like the idea at all, and to some extent it did make me nervous but Albert was my uncle, and I knew I could trust him. It took her a while, but she finally lit hers and I lit mine, and for a few seconds the area lit up, but then it went dark, and Alison held my arm, and told me she was sorry. “Sorry for what?” I asked. “I swear I didn’t mean to. They had me tied.” “What?” Instinctly I pulled my arm away from her and took a few steps back. “Michael please.” “Michael please what? What?” “We could go now. Just leave. We could go to Canada, it’s only a few miles.” “Canada? Alison! Tell me what the fuck is going on!” Before she could say anything a rather large SUV pulled up, lights blaring behind Alison. It stopped in front of her, and then doors opened and I was blinded but didn’t actually see what was happening, but I could see Alison talking to someone and then there was a flash of metal against the light and Alison was hunched over, and suddenly picked up and was being dragged off the road and the whole time Albert’s hand was on my shoulder. “I always told your father I didn’t trust her, since the day I saw her.” “We were six years old Albert.” “Don’ matter son.” “What’s going to happen to her?” “I can’t tell you that son, you should know that. Matter of National Security.” “This is fucked up.” “The worlds fucked up son.” “Will I find out?” “Yes you will. I will tell you that she’ll be tried for treason. That’s for sure.” “Just because she’s her mothers daughter…” “Son, you have a lot to learn in this business. Her mother was a harsh, intolerant woman and she didn’t give two shits about other people’s lives. She killed a lot of people son.” “Doesn’t mean she did.” “Her mother knew who your father was, there was no doubt and she could see what he did to you over the years, and so she did the same to her.” “We’re fucking low-level back office spies.” “The CIA doesn’t, and won’t tolerate people like her. She’s a threat to our nation. She’s a threat.” “Why take her on then?” “We needed to contain her.” “That’s bullshit. All of its bullshit.” “It may be bullshit son, it may well be. But thing is, you’re going to be at Langley at nine on the dot, monday morning. And you will be there, with that shitty ass look, but you’re going to be there. Don’t worry son, you’ll have a field assignment within the next four months. Guarantee it.”

I never saw Alison after that. She was tried in a military court, and there was a shitload of evidence brought against her, shit I never knew about, shit I didn’t realise even happened. I received my first posting, first field assignment in an Eastern Europe Embassy. And I’m still there. Waiting for Alison to appear out of nowhere.

Short Story #11: What was that?

…. “You should really get something done about it.” “Like what Joe? Go after the shits? Fuck that.” “Nah, like, I think you should talk to your dad or something.” “That would be called, investigating ways of using organised crime against people who just need a punch in the fucking face, that’s what. I’m not my dad.” “Chill out stud,” you say, even though you’re not really that good of a photographer, but it’s something you do in this small town. You’re mom always told you should straighten your hair, and wear shorter dresses, get the men to notice you. But they just don’t adore you because you want something else, something more. “Come on Charlene,” he says turning his head to look at you, smiling but your immediate response is to grab his jaw and swing it back into the gorge. “Look that way dork.” you say. You’re model is the new guy, Tim who transferred from another state, and you befriended him because you thought he looked cool enough to hang out with, and at least you wanted to show him around. He’s been here for over a semester now, and his dad lives in Portland, and even Tim himself has admitted he works for the mafia, and his mom wanted to get away from it all. Joe, who’s been more friendly with you ever since you started hanging out with Tim, and has become part of the sudden group you created without realising, but you’re pretty sure he likes him, and didn’t actually realise this until you caught him staring at Tim when went to the last swim meet. To think Joe actually had any feelings for you, right? “So are we going to go out tonight?” Joe pipes up, changing subject. “Go out where?” You ask. “I don’t know, there’s the local carnival or something. Maybe a show.” “A show?” You and Tim ask, with the same level of tone, surprise and delivery. “I don’t know.” “What like a strip show?” Tim interjects, chuckling. Joe immediately look’s away, almost hurt and you look through the lens. “How long do you need me to look down Charlene, I’m starting to get a bit…” Tim’s words get lost in the series of events that scare the shit out of you and the boys so much that you drop your camera and in the process Tim slides off the ledge but you are not aware of this and you don’t think Joe was either when we saw it.

It was a white light that came violently from the skies, almost out of nowhere, and even though it was early afternoon, the entire area just lit up in bright, blinding white light and came with a very loud noise that reminds you slightly of an jet engine. Directly opposite from you on the other side of the gorge it appeared to have hit the ground, shaking the earth all around you, and great old trees that once stood proud on the banks of the gorge seemed to topple over, crashing with great force as they fell down the steep cliffs, like rolls of charcoal from an art store, tumbling through the white light. You instinctly back up against the rock, in fear of falling rocks and trees on this side of the gorge. Then the light disappeared suddenly, and the sun came back, but only for an instant. This is when you look around, and realised Tim was gone, and Joe’s jaw was wide open. Then began the rumble, and for a moment, while you’re worrying like fuck that you think Tim has fallen into the gorge, you think it’s a nuclear bomb, because you remember those old movies you watched in the Cold War Class about American propaganda, and it was so white but it was very violent and you aren’t really sure what’s happening and Joe is still dumbstruck beside you and you really hope that Tim is alive. The rumbling gets more intense, and you can feel it shaking the very foundations on which the both of you are sitting on, and then you see it all in slow motion. At first it lifts, a rather large object – quite large, you can’t make out what it is, it’s just large – lifts up slightly, slowly, and then it just implodes, the force pinning you back on the rocks, and all this dirt and bits of rocks are hitting you on the face and you can’t move your hands to protect your face because the force of the explosion is so intense you think you’re going to die and you’re pretty sure your skin is being peeled off, and you can’t see what’s happening and you don’t really want to and you just let go, stop battling the force, just relax and let go. When it stops, you aren’t aware and you don’t realise how stupid you were to relax until the moment you open your eyes and you just happen to see yourself rolling over the edge of the gorge, the same edge Tim probably slipped off. You don’t fall for long, and you land on your back, but the ground is surprisingly soft, it’s not rock, its dirt but you realise you need to scramble to stop yourself going any further. Joe falls down next and lands on his front, and doesn’t move. “You okay?” Tim asks suddenly. “You’re okay!” you say, hiding the fact you’re pretty sure he died. “Yeah.” He helps you get up, and you discover there’s a small cavern, not a big one, but small enough and it was level. Tim goes to Joe, who looks like he just awoke from a bad sleep. Tim drags Joe up to the cavern. Joe is swearing. He’s broke his wrist. But you don’t care, in fact, you just stand up suddenly and scream. “What the fuck in gods name was that!” Tim stares at you. “I don’t fucking know.” “That was some serious what the fuck.” “How are going to get out of here? It’s a long way down, even from here.” “Who cares how we’re getting out of here, what the fuck was that?” Your voice is suddenly disappearing, and you just sit down and want to cry but you’re also excited by the possibilities of what has happened. What the fuck was that?

Short Story #10: Stupid Camera

“Did you get it?” “No.” “Get it.” “I’ve almost got it.” “Go on, do it.” “Okay.” “Is it working?” “Maybe.” “Lance stop being a prick. Is it working?” “Maybe.” “God, Lance!” “Keep it down.” “What. You weren’t quiet before.” “Jess, wait.” “Wait what Lance, wait what.” “You’re so drunk.” “So? You are too.” “Okay, I think I got it.” “God you have no idea what the hell you’re doing do you?” “Hey, I’ve got it okay? Look.” “It’s not making any sound.” “Is it supposed to?” “Lance!” She yells and throws herself at me, tries to grab the thing out of my hands. I let go but grab her arms, and embrace her soft warm skin. It’s humid out tonight and the air-con is bust and I don’t know how to fix it because my father never taught me how. “Lance. Lance. Look, we can work it out. I’ll try… hey! Hey! No why won’t you let me, awww, god your meean!” “How old are you?” She looks into my eyes. “Twelve.” “How old are you Jess.” “Twenty-two.” “Really?” She closes her eyes and her soft lips descend on my mouth, she’s a good kisser but she’s a little drunk. It takes her a while but I have to guide her into a rhythm but I’m not sure how long it will last and for a while I’m pretty sure she’s going to fall asleep. She moves her hand down, and when I think she’s going to make my day she suddenly thrusts her arm past my head and grabbing the camera. “Eh!” I say, grabbing her stomach on both sides and tickling her, but in the process she throws the camera as she’s incredibly ticklish and it smashes against the bathroom wall, bouncing off the floor and I stop tickling her and she sits up on top of me and looks in shock, her hand on her mouth, suddenly looking very guilty. She looks at the camera pieces on the ground, looks at me. “Oh man, I’m sorry Lance…” “It’s okay, it’s just a stupid camera.” I say, staring at the tiny pieces. “A stupid camera? It’s worth, thousands.” She stops, swallows, and moans. Looks at me, looks down. “If it’s just a stupid camera then why aren’t you hard anymore?” She asks matter-of-factly and I’m stunned, and I don’t know whether to look at her or at the smashed camera or the broken mirror at the top of the vanity and I know she’s quizzing me in her mind and even though she is really drunk I think she’s a little aware, she could probably give me a specific time I lost my hard-on. “Fuck.” is all I say and I say it loud and she looks away. “I’ll pay you back Lance.” She says quietly. “It’s not the money.” I say. “It was my fathers.” I say after a long pause. “It belonged to my dad and my pop gave it to my dad and my dad wanted me to give to my son…” and I don’t realise I’m saying this but I just remember my dad when he gave it to me and told me to look after it. How stupid really, it’s just a camera. It’s just a stupid fucking camera. I have this hot, stunning girl on top of me and here I am worried about a fucking camera. She grabs the back of my head and lifts my head up slightly from the tiles. “Wanna talk about it?” She asks seriously. “What?” “You know, talk about it. It’s obvious to me that the camera isn’t the thing that is eating at you.” “How the fuck do you get that?” “You’re fucking hysterical Lance.” “Come on,” I say, put my hand on her leg, lift up her g-string but she smacks my hand when I do this. “Now.” Next thing I know she’s on my bed, she’s still got my sweater on and I’m not sure where to start and she’s sliding her fingers up and down my torso lightly, looking at me, a different person, a different creature. “My dad was an asshole. He loved that fucking camera and that’s all he ever fucking loved.” I say. “I’m sure he loved you. He probably found it hard to…” “He did fuckin love me, he just loved his camera more. He didn’t do anything with his life because he believed that fucking thing would bring him love and happiness and that’s all he did and so while he lived in his fucking dream world… that’s nice babe … yeah, do that. Oh that’s the stuff. God that’s nice. Anyway, he lived in this fucking dream world while I had to go to public school and work pretty much the entire time because my dad never had a fucking income and shit was all just hard.” “Why did you love that camera?” “It’s the only thing he left me, son-of-a-bitch. Fucking asshole used up his life insurance for the fucking casino. Loser.” “If he was such an asshole, why did you keep the thing?” “My mom used to call him the new Charles Bukowski. Such a womanizer. Just had no fucking idea. My mom used to drug herself up on all the available pills she could get and she could never get around to telling him how she felt. At one point she thought she was lucky, she was with an artist. A la Bukowski.” “Why did you keep the camera?” “Fucking idiot.” “Lance.” “What a loser, I mean come on.” “Lance.” “What?” “Answer my fucking question.” “What?” “Lance.” “Jess.” “Why did you keep the camera?” “It’s stupid, I just did.” “There must have been a reason.” “I don’t know.” “I think you do. I won’t say anything.” She moves closer to me, I can feel her sweat tingle against my cheek. “It’s not like there’s anyone in this town to tell.” “It’s stupid.” “Tell me, it’s okay.” “Sometimes…,” I stop. She puts her hand through my hair, and just stares into my eyes, and even though she’s not smiling I can see that she’s smiling in her eyes and though I like to think I can see her into her soul, I will never really know. They’re just eyes. “Please?” she pleads with me. “Sometimes. Sometimes I go and take a photo, or pretend to. And I look around in the scene. And there he is, he’s just standing there, laughing at me.” “Who?” “My dad.” “Like…” “Like he’s not there unless I’m looking through the camera.” I stop. I feel incredibly embarrassed. But instead of laughter, Jess grasps slightly, and smiles. “I’m so sorry Lance, I’m so sorry.” “It’s okay babe.” “No it’s not. I just destroyed … I destroyed your last link to your dad.” “Nah you didn’t. I’ve got photos.” “Lance.” “It’s done now. And it’s my fault, I forget how ticklish you are.” And I grab her quickly and her shrill screams rock my small apartment.

Later on in the morning, she comes out of the toilet wearing nothing but her panties, walking over, holding something in her hand. “Look.” She says. “Stop looking at my breasts and look what I’ve found. It’s a film. Look, it hasn’t been exposed.” She climbs into bed, lies beside me, and holds it up in the air, and the morning sunlight reflects off the film canister. “You mean that was in the camera?” “Yeah.” “It’s probably been exposed.” “No, It’s been wound. I can tell. Or at least I’m pretty sure. What’s on this thing?” “You think there’s something on there? It hasn’t worked for years.” “This looks ancient. But I’m sure we can still get it developed. So, then you havent actually taken photos with it?” “No,” I said, shaking my head. “Well I thought I did, but maybe it was wound the entire time, I don’t know.” “My uncle knows of a guy about thirty miles from here who could get this developed, would you like that Lance?” “Maybe.” I say but I’m not really sure and Jess can tell and she senses my insecurity and just hugs me. “Who knows, it might be fucked for all we know. Let’s just see what happens.” “Okay.

Later on that day we find out that the film is literally fucked. We’re outside a Starbucks and it’s cold and rainy, and then Jess’s phone rings but I don’t take any notice as I notice a bunch of guys staring at her and I just stare them down until they fuck off and Jess is pulling me on the arm. “He’s managed to pull a couple out. Just a couple.” “What are they photos of?” “Your dad I think. And a little boy. And in the other one, there’s just a wharf.” “Jackson’s Wharf.” I say instantly. Where dad used to take me fishing. “I think it’s of you and your dad. A little blonde boy, and there’s a really old-fashioned stove-pipe thing in the background…,” Yeah, that’s me and my dad. I look at her, she looks excited and waiting for my response. I shrug my shoulders. “Could be anyone.” I say. She looks at me, frowns at me. But then smiles quickly, privately, to herself, takes my hand, and we leave.

Short Story #9: Mom and Dad

“We just never had it.” “But you two looked perfect, like, you know. Totally suburban couple.” “We we’re good at pretending.” “Pretending my ass.” “Shut the fuck up.” “But she was cool though, I remember her. Very cool.” “You think she’s cool because she had a great rack. Don’t bullshit me. Nah, Nah. Nah.” “Oh anyway, I’m so sorry man.” “It’s cool man.” “Your mom was freakin’ awesome, and your dad used to be the coolest football coach ever.” “Cheers man.” “You want me to hang out here with you all day? Because I will.” “If you want.” “It’s really depressing inside there man.” “I know man.” “It’s a pretty cool wake though.” I don’t say anything. “You’ll get through it man.” It’s in this conversation that I see Jeremy for who he really is, and though it’s never really occurred to me, I think he really does care. We’re outside, away from the main house, where there is a wake for my parents going on inside. For my parents, who used to be alive, used to be here, in my life. I haven’t really thought about it a lot because if I think about it for too long all I want to do is get on the ground, get into the foetal position and cry, and if I end up doing that I’m pretty sure I’ll be stuck like that for the rest of my life. My mom and dad had it pretty rough when I was a kid, we grew up in a Caravan Park in North Carolina, and travelled around a bit whenever dad got kicked out of whatever loser job he had at the time and I’m pretty sure he did it for the hell of it, because he liked it. Mom always stayed home and looked after me and when I went off to school she would stay home and play bridge with all the other older retired ladies who lived at the park and that was pretty much the highlight of her day. I’m 23, I’m unemployed, I have no savings, and probably no future. I used to have a job in the logging factory about 13 miles up the road from here. We live on the edge of a lake, well we did. As a family. I’m pretty sure I’m going to get evicted once this is all over. My mom and dads life insurance might pay for a few more months rent, but I’ll have to sell up and go move in with my aunt or someone who still keeps in touch. I’m not counting on it though because I havent seen any of my other family for years and the only people who have turned up for my parents funeral are all the locals from the caravan park and my dads boss who’s pissed that he’s lost his best worker. He kept hinting at me to come work for him which is probably a good idea, but I don’t really want to work for him and I don’t want to be my dad and I don’t want a dead-end job and to be honest I don’t want to be a dead-end. “… They have some nice weed. Tell you what you should come and stay at ours if you want, you know, take your mind of things. It’s a pretty rough time you’re going through.” “Really? I wouldn’t want to be any trouble.” “Dude my mom loves you. Don’t even question it.” “I don’t have a job or nothing.” “You don’t need one. I doubt anyone would be expecting you to work during this time. Once you feel up for it, I’m sure dad could get you a job in Odessa.” “Odessa?” “Yeah,” “Cool. I’ve always wanted to go there.” “Well then, what are you waiting for. Oh no.” He lowers his voice. “Shit.” “What?” “The pastor is coming.” I turn around and look down. “Fuck.” “Adrian?” He calls. “Come on y’all, get on down here. You can play like kids in your own time but today, let’s just think about ya good mom and dad.” “I’m not 16 anymore.” I answer. “No, quite right. Now get on down here. Now.” I look at Jeremy. He’s pulled himself up and away from the lake. “Let’s go man. It’ll be okay.” “Hey Jeremy.” “Yes Sir?” “I need you to help with the food. Old Buddy can’t do it no more and those old ladies are breaking my ass already as it is.” “Yes Sir.” “Come on down now.” We slip down easily enough and the pastor is already walking towards the main house. I stop half way, Jeremy catches up. “You’ll be okay. You can do this. Let’s honor your mom and dad.” He puts his arm around my shoulder and we walk towards the building, towards my mom and dad. Jeremy goes in and I take one look out on the lake and in the distance on the other side, I see a couple on an old jetty. They’re middle-aged, and looking thoughtful, and happy I think, as they look across the river, across to the building, looking at me. The lady waves briefly. The sun finally starts to hurt my eyes, and when I use my hand to block the sun, I look again at the old jetty, but the couple aren’t there anymore, and I can’t find the jetty anymore.

Short Story #8: New Years

The New Years when I met Lauren was the most exhaustive yet exciting one to date, and I remember it so clearly I often wonder if I actually was even wasted but all of that doesn’t really matter because it was still a good time. I remember it even more so because it was around the same time my brother came out and it was quite awkward for me and my sister but we weren’t really sure how to deal with it and to make matters worse he lives in Sacramento and he has this boyfriend who we are pretty sure abuses the shit out of him but he doesn’t want any of our help and doesn’t do anything to make his situation better so we just leave him to it. I met Lauren at the Beverly Hilton. She’s a heiress to a top ten Fortune 500 company whose mom was listed as the fourteenth richest in the world, and her father who drinks and has a continuous line of young escorts in his Bel Air mansion, some as young as 15, doesn’t matter if they’re boys or girls, he just fucks them and drinks the rest of the time and think’s that if he can’t fuck or drink he’s better off dead. Sometimes I would like to agree with him. Lauren was a real piece of work, but she had a great ass. I always remembered, she walked in with her entourage, her presence demanding silence as Samantha Ronson DJ’ed the party, she just seemed to saunter in, look around and suddenly go to the bar, pushing away offers of very expensive Champagne, opting instead for a Hennessy VSOP Cognac and slamming it down in one go, suddenly proceeding to tell her people to fuck off and leave her alone, she whirled around, her silk blue dress that barely covered her thighs, looking around and then stopping at me, and leaned back on the bar, a soft smile emerging from her perfect face. She walks over, people are still staring at this point, puts her hand – and its cold – on my arm, caresses my guns and giggles. It all started from that one look, and then she tells me her name. Lauren. Her voice reverberates throughout my body, as if she transferred something into my body when she touched my arm. Next thing you know she is taking to my friends and looks as if she was interested but kept her hand enclosed in my hand, never letting go. Eventually she tells me we need to leave and Lindsay Lohan has appeared at the party because it was at this party that they began their very private and non-confirmed relationship, and Lauren doesn’t like Samantha anyway, and wants to go to a party in Westwood being hosted by a former child star. I oblige and even if I wanted to stay with my friends I don’t think I would have had a choice, the entire evening I felt like I was following Lauren around and at first I just wanted to fuck her, but throughout the night she just cast her spell and I didn’t do anything to stop it. During the night there were several Coke breaks and many a Valium were taken while we just sipped on a 1962 Bollinger and sat in our booth in the many parties and clubs talking to people I’ve never met before and all these celebrities were there and I met so many I don’t remember and they were all on some sort of stimulants anyway and I didn’t think much of it because Lauren and I were so wasted anyway I wasn’t in a mood to judge. There were many conversations, that seemed to be held at our table by many that night so many young actors and actresses and celebrities and models and I just faded in and out listening to bits and pieces. “Did you meet Peter Newman tonight?” “Yes, he’s going to call my Agent next week and so I can go to casting calls for the remake of The Soviet Girl. He said he can see me in the lead…,” “He say’s that to everyone Sophie…,” “Lauren, you saw him tonight, did he ask about me?” “Yes, I think he did. I don’t remember.” “I’m in it for the lead. I’ve got it. I’ll beat the rest of those bitches.” “He’ll put you on the casting couch Sophie, you aren’t that good of an Actress…,” “Excuse me? I was in Mean Girls.” “Yes, as a supporting actress who had like, hold on, two lines.” “And what have you been in that’s been critically acclaimed?” “I’m a serious Actress and I don’t go on the casting couch with guys like Peter Newman…,” “She’s right,” I say. There is confusion and Lauren explains to them who I am, but they aren’t interested. “You’re just jealous that he think’s I’m great for the lead. He say’s he’s been hearing great things about me from execs around Hollywood.” “You’re such a retard. He doesn’t think your talented, he likes you because you have a boob job and a great ass and the only thing you’ll earn will be…,” “You’re jealous. That’s it. You’re supposed be here for me.” “Yes and I am here for you, you’re just too stupid to notice. We’re leaving Dee, now.” There’s kisses and awkward glances and goodbyes and Lauren looks completely bored and is playing with her long blonde hair but looks across at me and smiles but then two male models who have been staring at Lauren all night approach the table and then there are hugs and kisses and it turns out these boys are here tonight – I can’t remember which club – for G-Star jeans, and I remember noticing how tanned and perfectly built they were, and suddenly they are sitting with us and Lauren has introduced us, Felipe who is from Brazil and Michael who is from Australia and I remember thinking how weird Michael’s accent was and he kept talking to me the entire time they were sitting with us, and Lauren kept trying to tell me these stories of how they used to party together in the Valley a couple of years ago. After they leave Lauren is laughing because her brother hired them as escorts for a threesome the night before and she thinks Michael will get deported because he can’t find anymore acting work because there are too many Australian’s in Hollywood already and tell’s me I’m better looking then them and this makes me feel slightly insecure. We leave later on and there’s an after-after party at Area in West Hollywood and Lauren can get us in but her friend who has appeared out of nowhere wants to come but Lauren isn’t sure she could get her in. We spend the rest of the day there and the only highlight of that party was playing strip poker with a bunch of unofficial PlayBoy Bunnies and watching – but not taking part – in the subsequent orgy where there are no sexual boundaries and I’m pretty sure if the public knew what was actually going on and who was taking part it would be a major flip out but me and Lauren both know this is a normal day in Los Angeles, the city of Angels, where drugs and sex, and the orgies, are more common place than one might think, where young boys and girls who come to LA to make it end up in places they don’t wanna be or see, and horrible things happen. Lauren and I know this, but we are semi-detached from this world, and watch it purely for entertainment. Unfortunately our relationship doesn’t last very long; we date for about three months and I become semi-famous in LA for dating the Lauren, and its cool at first but she becomes more and more dependant on several prescription drugs and my sister doesn’t like her and my brother commits suicide because he can’t deal with his own sexuality and it’s just a really fucked up time anyway, and she really was a piece of work. She would call me during the week and demand that I go and see her but I’ve been getting involved in a new surfing franchise venture and I’m all over Forbes Magazine and I’ve been doing a bit of modelling and Michael the Australian is living with me and though I thought I loved Lauren it wasn’t really anything but sex and as she became more and more dependant on the drugs she needed me for support – and sex – and though I loved having sex with Lauren it just wasn’t working and I wasn’t on drugs anymore and I was clean and she tries to overdose on drugs in order to get attention and I get her help but she doesn’t want it so I just give up and me and Michael start seeing other girls and Michael is getting work finally and he doesn’t think he will be in the Escorting Industry for much longer because Hollywood Execs really are disgusting.

I see Lauren the following new years and my company is a Fortune 500 and she looks frail and full of despair and she has a girl with her who I turns out to be a former Disney Channel Child Star and I can’t help but feel sorry for her and I’m pretty sure she’s been doing hard drugs but these are only rumours and it’s only LA and it’s a new day but it’s all just same old shit. Just before me and my friends leave out the backdoor to escape the paparazzi Lauren is lying on the island of the kitchen and is saying ‘Happy New Years’ softly as she stares down at the floor and I just leave anyway and hope that my next New Years will be even better than this one and I should call my mom at some point because even though all this shit happens, it’s always a new day, always a new year, and it’s only LA, but I don’t really mind and we get in the Hummer and tell the driver to take us to heaven and he just smiles and drives away from this place, falling asleep as the Californian Sun rose, listening to Samantha Ronson DJ on the local Radio, and remembering why I love this place and my Blackberry rings and it’s my mom and she’s crying – she calls me sometimes and cries about my brother – and I just put her on speaker phone and listen and tell her that everything will be okay because, it’s LA. New Year, New Day, New Life. LA.

Short Story #7: Wisconsin

“They used to tease me when I was young.” “You were an easy target though. I mean come on, you went to …” “I was just being a nice person, a nice guy.” “Nice guys finish last man.” “No they don’t. Maybe in your world. Not in mine.” “So what you went with them?” “Yeah I did.” “And was it weird?” “Nah, not at all. They were pretty cool.” “I never got invited to any frat house.” “Probably because …” “Shut the fuck up man.” “Nah I just never got invited. I’m pretty sure that totally ruins my whole college career.” “No it doesn’t.” “Yes it does,” laughter, Brody makes the biggest bomb we’ve seen all afternoon. Been here all afternoon, trying to see who can do the biggest bomb. “We used to do this all the time here when we were young.” Amy pipes up. She’s been sitting quiet all afternoon. “You always sat in that same spot.” I said “Things are different now.” She says. Adam turns around and yells some stupid lesbian comment. “Adam’s just jealous, aren’t you?” She flaunts. “So how are you liking it here in Wisconsin?” I ask Brody who came up out of the water. “Yeah it’s okay. It’s definitely not Oregon. I mean, it’s a different world up here.” “You guys are too turned into the West Coast.” “Oregon rocks man. Your turn dude.” He’s looking at my best friend Drew. Drew looks over at me and smirks “See you on the flip side.” He jumps up, and runs and jumps at the rope. Adam and Dirk climbed up the bank on top of the rock. “Amy, you should swing out with me.” Dirk says. “She doesn’t bat for your team you idiot.” Adam’s sarcasm provokes Amy. “At least I have the biggest balls around here, Adam.” There are whistles and laughter while Drew swings out, yelling at the top of his lungs, and dropping into the water. “That was pretty good,” Says Adam. “Catch it, no wait …” Before I had even stood up straight Adam was running for the rope as it sung back, he grabbed it and catapulted off the rock. “I hope Adam hurts himself.” Amy says, smug. “You’re not really annoyed by those comments are you?” I ask. “Amy? Hurt by comments made by a little man? Doubt it.” Dirk injects. Amy laughs, and thanks Dirk. “You got it.” Drew comes up out of the water, while Adam just sits there, floating, beaming. While Amy and Dirk and Drew reminisce about Drew and Adam’s swing, I look around and find Brody kneeled down, looking in his bag. “You’re quiet Brodes.” I say. I watch his reaction, which is slightly hesitant. He’s checking his Blackberry. He looks up at me, attempts a smile. “Mom needs me back at the house.” he says. “What’s up?” He shrugs his shoulders. “Mom doesn’t say much on her cell phone. I think her neighbor needs some help with moving that old Piano I told you about.” “Do you have to do that now?” “Yep.” “Come back after?” “Maybe, it all depends how long it will take. How long will you guys be here?” “Not sure. Drew and Amy were talking about getting dinner and bringing it back here and a fire or something.” Brody looked unsure. “Is everything okay dude?” I ask, concerned. “Oh wait,” I smile. “You’re getting laid aren’t you?” He shakes his head. He cocks his head at me to come closer. I walk a few steps. “My mom’s having these really bad moments where she forgets shit. She’s been talking about dad lately, which scares me because she hasn’t talked about him for ages.” “I don’t understand.” “I think she might be losing it.” I look at him and he almost looks like he’s going to cry. “Dude.” I say. “Not here.” He says, shaking his head. “You need me to come back with you?” I ask. He stops looking through his bag. Looks around, looks at the others. Amy and Dirk are on the rope while Adam and Drew watch with excitement. “Dude, I’m here for you.” I reinforce. He looks up, a shy smile appears. “If you want to, I mean, I don’t want to ruin…,” “Nah don’t even say it. You’ve only been here for a short time, but we’re here for you. You wanna git now?”

We’re driving my old beat up truck down the highway. I told the others I’d be back later, and Drew had his old beat up so I didn’t feel guilty about leaving them out in the Lake. I’m driving and it’s getting dark and Brody is on his blackberry, looking concerned, tired, angry, and sad. “We knew it would happen. My Gran’ went that way too. It all happened quickly, and she was fine in Oregon, but it’s been weird since we moved up here.” “Like weird how?” “Like, she would forget things. And she doesn’t make dinner consistently every night like she used to. And she would be on the phone late at night talking to someone. One night I caught her and listened into the conversation. She was talking to my dad. Like actually talking to my dad. My dad’s dead. It’s fucked up and it’s takin’ its toll I guess.” “So,” I had to think about this. “You think she’s a bit cracked in the head.” “I guess, maybe. I don’t know man.” I pull over, look at him, try to catch his eyes. “Dude. I’m here man. You know that right?” He looks at me, and suddenly explodes, violently punching and kicking the dash and shaking all over. “He’s fucking dead! It was all so fucking fucked up when it all happened, when he died, but then that was it! I just don’t feel normal anymore. We come here for a new start and now she’s fuckin’ goin’ all fucked up and I have no fucking idea what to do! I just want the whole fucking mess to stop!” He stops suddenly, and starts shaking quietly and instantly I know what’s going to happen. I jump out of the truck, wind back to the passenger door, open it, and he half falls out and I have to catch him, and he’s sobbing uncontrollably and really heavy and I have to push myself against him to stop the weight from falling on top of me, and I have to comfort him but I have no idea how so I just hold him and just wait, wait until he stops, wait until he stops, or just wait. Just wait, pushing him, my right leg out to stop myself from sliding, waiting, holding him, listening to his angry cries as they echo throughout the forest highway, the last vestiges of the sun saying goodbye.

After a long time he stops, and I wait still. He eventually realises how heavy he is, and he pulls himself back up, quietly sobbing, and mouthing thank you. “I’m here for you,” I catch his eye. “I’m here for you dude. We’re all here for you.” “Don’t tell anyone I just cried like a bitch.” I smiled, “It’ll stay between you and I and the forest. We’ll help you. Promise.”