Hellbent (711 hits)
Category: NoneRating: 2 on 15 reviews (Rate this item) (V)
Submitted by Mike the Scottish (View user info) at 2005-08-01 09:00:51 EDT
Her face lights up the night sky. In an instant, I seem blind as Samson, drawing strength from every flicker of her eyelids, every searching gaze- hell, every time she stares into nothing. She makes me whole.
I feel alive. First time all over again, dropping Mandy Chases's panties in Tenth grade.
This is so close to reality, I want to poke myself, feel my heartbeat, feel the impassive pain of reality. Yet still... she knows as well as I do that this childish draw is what keeps her in such fine clothes, what keeps her in another round of drinks or poker. An angel wrapped in the dirt of this city, another guiding light for the lost ones, guys like me who see her beauty, see her fine clothes. See her without them in our minds. I just want to fuck and get it over with. Take a glimmer of that light, a slow-burning memory. Another whore. I should work on my chat-up lines.
The deed is done half an hour later. She dresses silently, we exchange pleasantries and payment, and she leaves. Cigarette burns on the carpet- the boys must've got in earlier. They leave scent, a fox-like essence. Sick bastards probably taped the whole damn thing.
Sounds like George all right.
Put on a show. Dance for the camera. Play the innocent victim, a rabbit in the headlights- whatever. I smell her, the raw and functional sensuality, mixing with stale farts and the gritty, choking air of spilt whisky. I need a drink. Plan things, get my shit together. Take my mind off her, get back to work. Drag my mind out of the gutter and into the street. Play the poker face, the hard man. I gotta get that bastard George.
I find the camera duct taped to the underside of the TV table. Bastard knew I refused to use the healthy selection of porno that seemed to come pre-supplied in this block., the only remnants of the previous tenants. This place feels like an hourly motel for alcoholic bachelors, all of them slipping into terminal decline with all the grace of a mack truck hitting a letterbox. I want to burn out. I want to take her fire and make the step, raise the stakes. Doesn't seem right that this revelation should be part of some voyeur porno. That rat bastard.
The tape makes a hollow sound as it smashes on the pavement, the case rattling around like a spinning penny before falling into the dirt. I get up and go looking for George.
This George- he's a skinny little British guy. Wily son of a bitch- sooner sell your sister to the whorehouse than buy her dinner. Something seedy or underhand in this city and he's probably got a few bucks riding on it. Plays a mean hand of poker, too; that's why I met him in the first place- watched him get dragged out of the casino, screaming bloody murder at the manager. Never did know what he tried to pull- but knowing George, it wasn't gonna be worth putting on his CV. Regardless, he usually drank at the Wishbone Tavern, so I hailed a taxi and set about finding him.
Dozing gently, lulled by the vibrations off the rain-streaked city streets. Lamplight flickers and streaks through glimmers from the windows.
I see her again. Her eyes taunt me, her clothes lie discarded around her. We're alone. A hand- my hand- runs from her cheek, gently stroking her neck, moving down her body; her perfect, untainted breasts. Her curved and smooth stomach, arching slowly down the side of her hips before trailing off into the air surrounding her. We stand together silently.
The screeching of brakes. Back in the game. Three cheers for reality. She's gone, the taxi goes, and I am left standing outside a seedy bar at 3 in the morning, rain seeping through my clothes, trying to find the man who would make my epiphany another three-buck peepshow for a Russian businessman, a French politician- some other guy looking for his own piece of this peculiarly enticing nightmare. I throw open the doors. Big entrances a speciality, expletive-laden patois at no extra cost. I found him at a table the bar, downing scotch with a moustachioed youth, decked in full suit-and-tie finery. George himself was wearing his usual faded Hawaiian shirt.
You can do it, kid. Never been one to shy from the hard line, no sense in starting now.
What if she could see me now?
No, focus. One aim. You're doing this for her. For another half-hour of heaven. Keep her there.
"Evening, George."
He froze, his face opposite me, away from view. I could tell he was planning which mode to enter the conversation in. He knew I'd found the tape, that was for sure- people don't go looking for George in this city unless they want to get him back. No matter. He spun round fast.
"What the fuck are you doing? Can you wait outside like a good little boy, or am I gonna have to smack your fat ass onto the sidewalk again?"
He's asking for it. Hit him. He's wronged you, so right him. One to the chest, one to the jaw. One-two. Simple. But... I can't. I feel restrained. I stop and stare at the two men, before it hits me like a kick to the crotch- the foppish kid with the porn star 'tache was Sanchez Vittorio's son.
Close call. Must be my guardian angel- who loves ya baby?
Play it cool.
"I want to talk. I'll be at the bar- be there in 5."
He accepts, turns round to the Vittorio boy- badmouthing me no doubt. Fuck him. I got more to worry about than my reputation amongst the Vittorio family. We go back a long way, back when this place was dying on its knees. Sanchez Vittorio conducted the majority of shady business deals- saw prohibition-like protection payments being shelled out by most of the main bars and casinos. Police got him on tax evasion, thanks in part to an anonymous tip given by yours truly. Nasty business, and another Vittorio could only mean more of the same. Regardless, George sauntered up to the bar five minutes later.
"Sorry man- that guy's gonna be big, just getting my foot in on the ladder early, y'know."
I smirked.
"Gonna be big? Starting up the casino trade again, are they?"
"Well, kinda. He's gonna be a lounge singer."
Not what I was expecting. Didn't matter though. Gotta find out about the camera.
"Listen here, you dumb limey fuck. What's with the camera in my fuckin' room? Can a man not get privacy these days?"
"Relax, buddy. It wasn't recording."
"I ain't your buddy. What the fuck are you on about?"
"I wanted to get you in on this. See, Sanchez just got out of the joint, and he's looking to live the quiet life again. He knows you fucked him over, mate. He's calling in a favour for his son. The boys planted the camera so you'd come find me, avoid suspicion. We... uh... know how touchy you are about exposing your personal life."
He smirks like a child, a devilish chesire cat. But I gotta find out what he wants. What Sanchez wants; hell, if the whole set-up with the hooker was simply a part of the plan. I feel the chills kicking in again- been a long time. I look sideways at the gangster-cum-lounge singer and shoot a resigned look at the messenger before me. In a single, bursting move, I unleash all the stress of the encounter on George's face. The sound of fist meeting flesh is distant, yet familiar. I feel nothing, only watch distantly as blood sprays back onto the barroom wall in a single streak of claret. George clutches his nose, hiding his face from the gaunt, imposing kid sitting a few yards away. I lean in close to his face.
"That's for fucking up a perfectly good evening. Now tell me what you have in mind."
User Reviews
Submitted by Fey (user info) at 2007-10-01 04:33:27 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
No Comment
Submitted by CookieLass (user info) at 2005-08-09 15:20:26 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
Sorry I missed this, but glad i caught it.
Missed you.
Submitted by Spam (user info) at 2005-08-04 10:09:56 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
This was extreamly good Mike - I would definately like to read more. I think somebody already said it but the short staccato sentances really work here.
bravo.
Submitted by fried-green-potatoes (user info) at 2005-08-01 20:15:10 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
Clipped style was a great choice for the character/story.
Submitted by forensicgirl3 (user info) at 2005-08-01 19:23:26 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
No Comment
Submitted by munkeypants (user info) at 2005-08-01 16:03:06 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
No Comment
Submitted by Stin (user info) at 2005-08-01 14:28:27 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
Nice.
Submitted by Jeanneee (user info) at 2005-08-01 12:34:28 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
Long but well worth it. Nicely done.
Submitted by mikethescottish (user info) at 2005-08-01 09:50:05 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0
Cheers to everyone reviewing, especially Arthur_Dent.
I went a little overboard on the seediness to try and set the scene for potential future episodes, but I do agree that 'seedy' was perhaps the wrong word to use. I also agree about the CV thing, if it was an ironic reference, it was an unintentional one! I know a lot of the specifically american things about this may be far from perfect, it's hard to write about America from a British standpoint... the British character is hopefully going to represent the same median between British and American phraseology I am trying to emulate in this series (for I think I may turn it into just that). Thanks!
Submitted by Merlina (user info) at 2005-08-01 09:48:23 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
excellent!!
Submitted by ozzy (user info) at 2005-08-01 09:43:24 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
Stuff like this is one of the reasons why I come to Uber. Would love to see the sequels.
Submitted by Arthur_Dent (user info) at 2005-08-01 09:42:11 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
Worth the read.
Perhaps go a bit easy on emphasising the seediness.
I mean if the narrator is from that type of world a lot of the times he wouldn't necessarily describe the tavern etc as seedy, perhaps the external description could do that.
Just a thought.
Plus the obvious gaffe, an american would never refer to it as a CV. Unless of course you meant the american to be ironically/sarcastically refering to the limey's resume as a CV, in which case perhaps quotation/apostrophes could be used. Ubersite seems a little format limited.
Anyway that is my tuppence.
Hope you find it useful and I'm not speaking out of turn.
Submitted by jack11058 (user info) at 2005-08-01 09:18:12 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
there's potential here
Submitted by Berty (user info) at 2005-08-01 09:17:07 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
Me likey.
Submitted by mikethescottish (user info) at 2005-08-01 09:01:17 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0
If this seems to end on a half-baked note, it's because I'm considering making this into a series, depending on how this bit is received. I wanted to write something with an ongoing, logical story, and this is what I've come up with. I know it's derivative, and pretty much a genre stereotype- but if people like it, then I'll try to make it a regular thing. If people don't- well hey, I tried.