Anaideia 48

Randy didn’t know what to make of Susan. He sipped the scotch mere feet from her face with her eyes bowed to the floor. I turned my head to see a tear stream down her face. Though this was the moment she had been waiting for, nothing had prepared her for it. “I don’t think I know you,” Randy said.

Susan palmed her eyes and lifted her head to face him. When I looked at Randy, I could tell he was genuinely perplexed. “Where is my mother?” Susan managed to squeak out.

Randy squinted his eyes and took another sip. He lowered the glass and placed it in his left hand. “Darling,” he said, putting his right hand to her cheek, “I’m sorry but I don’t understand your question.”

“Where is MY mother,” she repeated.

“If you could tell me who you are, perhaps I could help,” he said, taken back by her sudden forcefulness.

“Susan.”

“Susan who?”

“Susan Brucetti.”

He took his hand off her face and had another sip. “Brucetti?” he asked and swallowed hard. “I believe a Lyonette Brucetti was under my employment many years ago. Is that your mother?”

Susan nodded and lowered her head again. Randy’s face began to blush and he nervously scratched his head. “I’m afraid that I haven’t seen Lyonette in some time,” he explained. “Last I heard, she was living in Chico with her husband. I apologize, but I haven’t been keeping close tabs on her.”

“You’re a liar,” Susan said.

“Pardon?”

“You’re a liar. You sold her into sex slavery.”

“W-why would I do that?”

“Because that’s the kind of man you are!”

“Susan, sweetheart, I think you have the wrong idea. You see, Lyonette and I were lovers for a very long time. I loved her. Why would I sell someone I love into slavery?”

“Then why would she abandon me?!”

Randy turned around and refused to face us. He sat his glass of scotch down and rubbed his brow. “I’m sorry Susan,” he said, “had I of known, I would have done something.”

“What do you mean?”

“We had a child together. A girl.”

Susan looked at me with wide eyes. No words came. In real time I could see her heart sink to her feet and Dale shook his head. “Told you it was a mistake,” he uttered under his breath.

“Goddamnit Dale,” I said.

“What was a mistake?” asked Randy, still not facing us.

“Forget it,” I said.

“I’m gonna be sick,” said Susan.

Randy picked up the glass again and ignored the comment entirely. He turned around and leaned against the table. “Susan, my dear, I think you should leave,” he said. “I don’t want you to be a part of what’s about to happen.”

Susan quietly nodded and the driver took her by the arm and escorted her upstairs. She never looked back at me. She was defeated.

When she was gone and the shock wore off, I looked at Randy. “Two damaged children,” I said. “That’s your real legacy.”

TO BE CONTINUED…

Anaideia 47

It was a shame that we arrived in Tahoe after nightfall. The mountain vistas and alpine would have been a glorious sight to see before death. But the limousine descended into obscure wavy backroads before arriving at Randy’s rocky sprawl and the driver exited the vehicle with a Ruger ready. “Welcome to the Furie estate,” he said after opening the backseat door. “Please step out of the vehicle or be shot.”

We complied with his demand and stood in a row in the late night mountain air and the driver waved us in through the immaculate entrance. Inside the mansion, the walls were adorned with bear skins and moose heads with a few human skulls for added effect. But before I could take it all in we were pushed through the house and down the stairs into a padded and soundproofed basement where on the other end Randy was yelling racial slurs through a microphone while playing Baldur’s Gate. We stood on one end of the basement while the driver shuffled to the other end to inform Mr. Furie.

“Your guests sir,” the driver said.

Randy swiveled around in his chair and when he laid eyes upon us he smiled. “Welcome! Welcome!” he greeted.

“Randy, if this is supposed to scare me then you’re doing a shitty job,” I said.

“Scare you? Why would I try to scare you?” he asked.

He stood up and flattened out his maroon smoking jacket and the Madam stepped through a hidden door disguised as a book case and handed him a glass of scotch. He took the glass then sniffed and swirled it. “The real reason I asked you here is to beg for your forgiveness,” he informed us.

“Why should I forgive you?” I said.

Randy squinted to bear through what seemed to be his internal torment. “Oh why can’t you see the burden placed upon my shoulders?” he posed. “The whole world pleads for forbidden contraband and services and those screams fall into my ears like cries in the night.”

“I can’t imagine the pain you must be in,” I said sarcastically.

“No man can imagine it,” he said, not picking up on my sarcasm. “I come from a long line of service providers; an ancient lineage we are.”

“No doubt,” I said. “But what does that have to do with me?”

“I’ve always desired you to be a part of this proud tradition,” he said with a tinge of mournfulness. “There’s no greater honor than a son following his father’s footsteps.”

“I’m sorry I disappointed you,” I replied.

Randy stepped a little closer with scotch in hand to look us up and down. He could tell something was amiss. “Where’s the fellow among you who destroyed my desert fortress?” he asked.

“He died in the wilderness weeks after,” I told him.

“A tragedy for you no doubt. But a fitting end for a warrior.”

“He got what was coming to him.”

“A fate that we all must face.”

TO BE CONTINUED…

Anaideia 46

After blowing my winnings at the casino bar, I stumbled back to the suite and I fumbled around with the keys outside of the door for second before finding the key card. When I unlocked the door, all the lights were off and the suite was eerily quiet. I had assumed that Dale was fuckin off somewhere in the city so I turned on the lights in the foyer and proceeded to the kitchen. When I cut on the lights, it illuminated both the kitchen and the living room and I saw the hotel guards along with their manager holding Dale hostage. There were no baseball bats this time. Just guns and knives with one to Dale’s throat.

“Sorry ol buddy,” Dale regretfully said. “There were just too many of them.”

“It’s alright Dale,” I told him.

The hotel manager stepped forward and ordered me to place the Walther on the floor and put my hands behind my head. So I dropped the gun on the ground. “If you check the receipts at the bar, you’ll see that all the money I won was spent at your casino,” I said. “Except for the booze which you clearly overcharged me for, you didn’t loose a single cent on me.”

“I don’t care about the money,” the manager said. “Mr. Furie’s patience has grown thin. We will be escorting you out of the hotel where there’s a limousine waiting for you downstairs.”

“Will I have time to pack my bags?”

“I don’t think you’ll be needing them sir.”

A guard put a gun to my rib cage and Dale and I were escorted to the elevator then down into the lobby where we did the walk of shame in front of casino patrons. Outside, we were thrown into the backseat of a limo where Susan was already inside. It was clear she had been treated to the same care we had just received. “Hello fellas,” she mournfully spoke.

“Evening Susan,” I said.

When we were all inside, the manager handed me a paper. “Here’s your receipt sir,” he explained. “If you take the survey at the very bottom then you’ll receive a 1.5% discount on your next stay.”

“Thank you,” I told him. Then I crumbled up the paper and tossed it out the window. When we were all buckled up, the driver rolled down the front seat glass and smiled. “We should be arriving in Tahoe within an hour,” he said.

“Is there any booze back here?” I ask him.

“Nope!” he said. Then he rolled the glass back up.

“I suppose that this is our last hurrah,” Dale said.

“Eh, I wouldn’t say that,” I told him. “I’ve defeated Randy before and there’s no reason to think I can’t do so again.”

“But you’re drunk,” Susan told me.

“Shit, I didn’t think of that,” I said. “Well look at it this way: no one wants to live forever, right? And who said that? Freddie Mercury. And look what happened to him. They made a movie about him! So if you want to achieve immortality then that’s the way you do it. You have to die for people to remember you forever. So I think what’s happening now is a good thing.”

No one said another word to another as we traveled westbound to Tahoe.

TO BE CONTINUED…

Anaideia 45

While I was losing thousands on the slots, casino “security” was breathing down my neck and waving their baseball bats. After losing my final quarter, I had enough and turned around to shout at them. “There!” I said. “I lost all my life savings to the Wheel of Fortune machine! You can tell your boss that he finally made a profit off me!”

The lead guard swung his bat one last time and gave me a mean look. “Swing that bat one more time and I’ll shove it up your ass,” I retorted.

The guards lowered their bats and dispersed. “Pussies!” I shouted at them.

With my last $10 I noticed Susan drinking alone at the bar. We hadn’t said a word to each other since the fuck sesh the night before and I felt like I needed to clear the air. I laid the $10 bill on the bar and ordered a can of Pabst Blue Ribbon. “That’ll be $9.95,” the bartender said.

“Fuck,” I said under my breath. “Alright, bring it to me.”

Susan was silent as I pulled up a stool next to hers. She was clutching her beer and was deep in thought. The bartender brought the drink and laid the nickel on the counter. “Can I get you anything else?” he asked.

“No. Kiss my ass,” I said and the barman bowed and wondered off.

I sipped my beer and lamented to Susan. “Life is hard enough without having to be charged $10 for a PBR,” I said. “Is that all that motivates this world? Greed and avarice? If I were the Old Testament god, I too would smite the world with a mighty flood and repopulate it with a race of pure beings touched only by angelic blood. That was where god fucked up. He thought Noah was the only man without blemish and look what that got us: Reno goddamn Nevada. I say curse god and all of existence for permitting such a horrid place!”

Susan said nothing to this.

“So anyways, how are you?” I ask.

“Fine,” she said.

“I would buy you another drink but I’ve only got a dime to my name.”

“It’s okay.”

“Do you think the Knicks will win the Finals?”

“No.”

“Sorry for not shaving my balls. I’ve been out in the wilderness for awhile and haven’t had the time.”

Susan took a huge gulp of her beer and looked at me. “Now that we have Randy in our sights, I don’t know how to feel,” she explained.

“I think you’re putting way too much thought into this,” I said. “Randy is an idiot.”

“I’ve spent most of my adult life trying to track him down. I can’t shake the feeling that all of this has been in vain.”

“Life is all vanity,” I told her. Then I picked up the nickel and held it up. “But life is short. And I’m not gonna waste it on second guessing myself. Things can’t be shit forever. Just you watch.”

Out of defiance to the casino, I proudly took that nickel and placed into a penny slot. The wheels turned before landing on three straight nooses and lights began flashing with an endless amount coins piled into the troth. The guards reappeared with baseball bats ready as I tried to cash the coins so I lifted my shirt to reveal the Walther PPQ tucked away in the waist of my pants.

“Try it,” I taunted to the lead guard. “The manager said he didn’t want a bloodbath in his casino. You wouldn’t want to go against his wishes eh?”

The guards again lowered their bats and dispersed. I held the wad of cash and beamed. “Maybe I’m the one touched by god,” I said to myself.

TO BE CONTINUED…

Anaideia 44

“So you fucked Susan?” Dale asked me over breakfast.

“We didn’t fuck,” I informed him. “We made love. Don’t be so fucking crude, Dale.”

“Well how was it?”

“A gentleman never tells. That’s something you wouldn’t know about.”

We sipped on our mimosas and Bloody Mary’s over a hearty breakfast of eggs and bacon and steaks and all the greasy foods to cure a hangover. Susan was still in bed while Dale and I maintained our company in the kitchen. I was on maybe my fifth Bloody Mary when there was a knock on the door.

“For Christ sake!” I shouted. “Why do we keep getting visitors?!”

So I go back down the foyer to answer the door. It was the hotel manager with a smug look on his face. He was alone this time without his gaggle of minions. “Not so tough now huh? Asshole,” I said to him.

“I have a message here from one Randall J. Furie,” the manager said. I took the paper from his hand and opened it up.

“Dear James,” the message read, “sorry for kidnapping you and keeping you prisoner. I’m also sorry for killing those Chechen and Chinese guys in front of you in Norco. Please forgive me. Love, Randy.”

I look up from the paper and back at the manager. “What the fuck am I supposed to do with this?” I ask him.

“Mr. Furie is willing to send you a limousine to escort you to his home in Tahoe,” the manager said.

I crumble up the paper and throw it in his face. “You tell Randy to come HERE and apologize!” I say.

“I do not wish to have a bloodbath in my hotel sir.”

“Well there’s about to be a bloodbath if you don’t get your ass back on the elevator and tell Randy my demands! You hear?!”

“Very well sir,” the manager said. Then he bowed and returned to the elevator.

“That’s right! Run away you pussy ass bitch!” I shout.

I close the door and go back to the kitchen where Dale was spinning the chamber of his revolver. “Who was that?” he asked.

“That bitch ass manager,” I say.

Susan storms out of the bedroom in her robe and glared at us. “It’s 11:30 in the morning!” she cried. “Can you guys keep it down out here?!”

I avert my eyes away from hers. “My apologies,” I said. “We’ll be quieter next time.”

Susan tied up her robe and adjusted her mood. “Good morning, James,” she said.

“Good morning,” I said, still not making eye contact.

“Are you two enjoying your breakfast,” she stammered.

“Yes.”

Susan stood up straight and took a deep breath. “Well, I suppose I should get ready for the day,” she said.

I gently nod.

Susan goes back into the bedroom and closes the door. Dale puts down his revolver and looks at me. “That was awkward,” he said.

“Do you think it was a mistake?” I ask him.

“To fuck her?”

“To make love goddamnit!”

“Well I don’t know much about women or much of anything really. But yes. It was a mistake.”

TO BE CONTINUED…

Anaideia 43

I sat at the end of the foyer and pounded the tequila bottle and I waited for our inevitable visitor. It was late. Dale and Susan were fast asleep and tucked away in their bedrooms while I was alone with only my thoughts and Walther PPQ to protect me. I added the silencer to the gun so as to not wake them up.

I was nearing the point of blackout when the knob twisted. I raised the Walther and waited for the intruder. I heard heels clanking onto the marble floor and from behind the door appeared the Madam in a form fitting red gown. She stopped momentarily to stare down the barrel. “I knew you’d come,” I said as I slurred out my words.

“I’m only here to deliver a message,” she said.

“You’re dressed awfully well to just deliver a message.”

“This? I just left a Hoobastank concert. Anyway, I’m here to tell you that Randy isn’t mad at you for burning down his brothel. In fact, he wants to visit him at his villa in Tahoe.”

I took another shot of tequila. “Tahoe eh?” I said. “Now I know where to find him.”

“You and I both know that he’s a dangerous man. You’ll never get to him.”

“Yet I was the one that torched his empire in the desert.”

“He wants bygones to be bygones. You’re his only son. He wants someone to leave his legacy to.”

“He should have thought of that before making me his prisoner for two months.”

The madam nodded. “So why did you come to Reno?” she asked.

“You know why.”

“Are you going to kill me?”

“I would if I had bullets in this gun.”

“Well, Randy’s invitation stands. If you wish to see him, I believe you know how to contact me.”

She glanced at me one last time. “He’s waiting on you,” she said and then closed the door behind her. I took another swig of tequila. Susan appeared from behind her bedroom door in a robe and slippers. “Who was that?” she asked.

“The Madam,” I said.

“You mean to tell me that we robbed a robbed a UPS store and stranded a naked guy in the middle of the desert for nothing?”

“I wouldn’t say it was for nothing,” I said. “It got her attention. And besides, I had a pretty good time.”

Susan pulled up a chair and sat beside me then rested her hand on my shoulder. “Mind if I have a drink?” she asked. I handed her the bottle and she drank. “What are we gonna do now?”

“Randy’s in Tahoe,” I said. “I reckon we ought to stock up and ambush him.”

“Are you sure that’s a good idea?”

“I don’t know if it’s a good idea goddamnit. But that’s the only idea I’ve got.”

“Does she have your friend?”

“Which one?”

“Old Jim.”

“Shit. I forgot to ask.”

Susan took one last swig and sat the bottle down. “Come on,” she said, “we need to get some sleep.” She stood up and I grabbed her by the hand.

“You’re the only one who understands what I’m going through,” I said to her.

“You’re drunk,” she said.

“Of course I’m drunk. I’m always drunk.”

“Go to bed and we’ll talk about this in the morning.”

“But you’re sleeping in my bed,” I said then gently kissed her hand.

TO BE CONTINUED…

And yet another shot at the title (part xxxx)

“Why am I doing this shitty cash grab for the studio?” I ask Dan after my summons to the production office. Kat was standing around dumbfounded as usual while Dick was menacingly stroking his chin in the corner.

“What else would you be doing with your life?” Dan questioned. “Raising a family? Have a love life? You’re none of those things. You’re a shark, James. You were put on this earth to do one thing: make movies.”

“I concur,” Dick interjected as he stepped out of the shadows. “This Jimmy fellow, he’s a piss ant. Now’s not the time to cower down and retreat to your home in the hills. Now’s the time to wear down your prey like a stalking lioness in the Serengeti.”

I nodded my head. It was hard to find fault in these gentlemen’s arguments. Then I turned to the lead producer. “What do you think Kat?” I ask.

She began to stammer. “I…I…I think right now we should be concerned with moving forward and making a good product,” she said.

“Quite right,” I agreed. “Perhaps I acted too hastily when I named Cornelius as director. I’ll let him and Greta know that I’ll be stepping back into my directorial duties.”

“No!” Dan angrily shouted. I was a bit taken aback by this sudden burst of emotion.

“But Dan, he’s just a kid. Literally!” Kat pleaded.

Dan tried to backtrack. “But this is the perfect opportunity to, to…,” he began to trail off. “…to let James step back while still being involved.”

Kat and I both found this excuse to be lacking. “You know I can’t let that happen,” Kat explained. “There’s too much money involved and…”

“Yes yes yes, the studio,” Dan interrupted. “Kat, you’re an accomplished producer but perhaps you should let the men do the talking.”

“Now Dan,” I said, “I’m as guilty of old timey sexism as the next guy, but even that was pretty low for me.”

The attorney came to his senses. “Right,” he nodded, “my apologies. I guess I’ve invested a lot of time into James that I don’t want my efforts to go to waste. But at any rate, Cornelius needs to stay on as a director. James, you mentor him. And I’ll remain on set and iron out any problems with the studio. That is all. Good day.” Then he marched off set.

When Dan was out of earshot, Kat looked to me. “What the hell was that about?” she asked.

I think I knew. But probably due to a lack of giving a shit, I waved the incident off. “Casper needs to get that buttplug shoved back up his ass,” I told her. “We have a job to do.”

TO BE CONTINUED…

And another shot at the title (part xxxii)

I frantically called up Dan after receiving the horrendous news from Greta. “Did you hear that Greta is getting 100% of the merchandising rights from Chatty Cathy?” I shouted over the phone.

“Will you relax?” he explained. “I have a plan.”

“You’re my de facto agent, so you better have a plan!”

“We’re going to kill Greta.”

“What?!”

“In the press.”

I breathed a sigh of relief. “What did you dig up on her?” I ask.

“She’s a tyrant on set James! 20 seconds of research will tell you that.”

I scratched my head. “I don’t know Dan,” I said. “I’ve been called that too but I’m still working.”

“But you have five times more accolades than her. You’re able to get away with it.”

I wasn’t so sure. “I’m gonna level with you Dan, I don’t like this plan at all,” I told him.

“Look, I know that we don’t have much leverage in this case so clearly this will be a slow burn. But we gotta use what we have. Maybe a few months of endless hounding from the press will force her to resign. Afterwards, contracts will be renegotiated and I’ll get you full control of merchandising rights. It’s the best we got!”

TO BE CONTINUED…

And yet another shot at the title (part xviii)

Dan and I decided to calm ourselves by gnawing on some Ding Dong’s we pulled from the vending machine. By that point I had resigned myself to my fate: In just a matter of hours, I would be laying in pool of my own blood in the basement.

“It was a good run,” I told Dan. “Sure, thousands, if not millions, of people died due to my ill advised business ventures. But hey, at least I made a few good films.”

Dan was clearly exhausted. His eyes were still bloodshot from all the crying. “You can’t give up,” he said.

“What other option do we have?” I shrugged. “Let’s face it, I’ve lost my fight. I’m an old dog waiting to be put out of its misery. Let’s just go back into the courtroom and tell Jimmy he’ll have his filthy $52 billion by the end of the day.”

“As your attorney, I suggest we throw up more smoke and mirrors until we come up with another plan,” Dan advised.

“Nah, fuck it. I’m ready to die.”

“Look,” Dan firmly stated, “we have a few more minutes before court’s back in session. Let me take a shit then we’ll discuss this further.”

Dan stood up, ass clinched, and waddled into the bathroom. I walked out to the courthouse steps. I took a deep breath of the smog filled air and admired the trash-littered scenery of Los Angeles. Life becomes a bit more sweeter when you know you’re about to die; You think about to your loved ones and enemies alike, all the people who have wronged you in the past are forgiven. I no longer desired to strangle the Chick-fil-A®️ manager. My preoccupation with wanting to violently murder Dennis Hopper faded away. I was completely emptied of the hatred that weighed me down for so many years.

In that singular moment, everything clicked. Life is beautiful, I thought.

“James,” a sweet voice said behind me.

Then it all changed.

“Cassandra,” I blankly stated. “What are you doing here?”

Cassandra bashfully stepped forward. “I heard Shapiro is Jimmy’s attorney,” she explained. “He’s in on all of this too.”

TO BE CONTINUED…

Jack Hardcock: The Wrath of God (Part III)

“I can’t thank you enough for shooting me in the shoulder,” Brother Joses said, “sometimes all it takes is a bullet from the Lord to help one see the light.”

“Amen brother,” Jack replied, “Jesus wants you to know that I ain’t no puss. So don’t ever accuse me of that again. Or next time I’ll shoot you in the face.”

The sun beat down on the Preacher and Jack like a hellish balefire as they ate their afternoon brunch under the Utah sky. The two were conversing a lot in those days; they knew the plight of modern times represented the mark of the beast. They both trembled and reveled at the pending onslaught of blood and glory from the Lord.

“Tell me,” Joses spoke as he slapped down his napkin, “what’s this business with Johnson? He must know the Lord’s vengeance is near.”

“Oh yes, Brother Joses, he is well aware,” Jack retorted, “but there remains this business with our father.”

“Your father? I thought Rod Hardcock was dead.”

Jack looked out to the deserted horizon, wishing he could push the many years of pain off the edge of the earth. “I believed he was too,” Jack lamented, “unfortunately he was only in Mexico.”

“Mexico? Why the devil would he be sent to such a castoff corner of hell?”

“Drugs,” Jack replied, “and churros. But mostly drugs. He presumably shoves them up his ass and smuggles them into the United States.”

“A mule, in other words.”

“Precisely.”

“So your father has never heard the Good News of Jesus Christ and the impending destruction of earth and the violent demise of all unbelievers in His Name?”

Jack chugged his beer and spat on the ground. “I’m afraid not,” he said, “moreover, the cartel is holding him ransom for unknown reasons.”

“My word,” Joses gasped.

A haunting silence fell between the two as they pondered this unspeakable predicament. “Then you must go to Mexico,” Joses finally spoke, “deliver the Word to your father…and rescue him from the clutches of Satan…before it’s too late.”

Jack pulled out his .38 and looked down the sights as he pointed it in the direction of Mexico.

“I know,” he uttered.

TO BE CONTINUED…