Posted 04 May 2013 - 09:19 PM
Edited by Ziggy455, 04 May 2013 - 09:23 PM.
RJ’s house glistened in all of its lower-class beauty from the corner of the culd-de-sac. From the outside, the place had already been half-trashed. Pissed up patrons had taken their fair shares of imbibes and in return they’d hit the proverbial hay a little harder than expected. As me, Mickey, and Jon pushed open the front gate that could easily be stepped over, we suddenly stood still as it clung to a snapped hinge before tumbling off and crashing down onto the cement with a rickety racket. We stepped over it and over another pissed up mong who I noticed from college; I think his name was Simon too.
The front door was half open. “Parttttyy,” screamed someone as he shut the door in our faces.
“After you, Crockett and Tubbs,” I said moving to the side to let Jon open the door. We slipped in quietly and were approached by one of the more confident larger men from College; his top clothing had done a runner.
“Oh, sh*t...Jon...Jon! Hey JON! Smell my fingers.”
“Get the f*ck away from me, Dave,” rebuffed Jon as he patted away the big guy with playful swats. With a horned Viking cap still perched above his raspberry coloured face, the finger man sauntered off into the living room somewhere. A girl was passed out on the bottom of the swirly stairs where people were hitting her with bags or loose hands as they came down. I shuffled ahead, picked her up of the staircase, and placed her down behind them, away from ignorant people.
“Deputy Simon, always doing the right thing at the wrong time,” said Mickey with a laugh, his bulky frame jiggling. I gave a grunt and looked around; the place stunk, whether that was just you regular RJ smell or the mix of sweat, sex, puke, and alcohol I did not know.
“Hey,” said Jon with a tap on my shoulder. “Smile for f*ck sake.”
“Huh? Sorry,” I replied, half in a day-dream. This wasn’t my scene. Never was really.
A moment later, Jon had begun to bounce to the rhythm of some far-off bass. “MICKEY!”
“Beer!” A fresh can of Carling was thrust into his hand. “Good man, good man.”
Both of them begun their little diddy beeps, scanning the horizon that was laden with drunk chicks. All stuck in the mentality of young, fresh blossoming, embraceable horniness. As a girl wearing what resembled half a pair denim shorts slipped through a crack of people from outside, the next words I mouthed along with them, much to their obliviousness.
“Cap’n. Bombs aways!”
Jon took a chug of Carling; the worst beer in the world: pisswater in a can. Euch. Half of the can dribble down his new Polo shirt. His pimpled, skinny face worse for wear. Poor guy didn’t stand a chance.
“If I’m not back in five minutes with a face like a slapped arse, I’m going all the way,” he said to us as he ran off to find Miss Denim.
“We’ll be waiting,” I yelled back, but it was too late; he was lost in the gaze of booty.
“Simon. Enjoy yourself. Please, for his sake. You know he’s not been right since Katie left.” Mickey was right. My news was old news, and Jon needed to get out there. Katie had broken his heart. Leaving him nothing but a note and a few binbags full of stuff was the most she could do. She had failed to mention she was bunking up with Jon’s worst enemy in the world; Hargreave: a fool by all accounts. He was more focused on winning than anything else, and his feelings for Katie were probably masqueraded for some sort of douche-conquest.
“I know, I know. Fine. Go get me a drink, I’ll go see if I can find the other goons,” I replied as I shuffled through the kitchen back into the living room. As I headed for the sofa, further away from the bass, my apparent search turned suddenly fruitful and pointless.
“You soppy c*nt, stop staring at my screen!” Idiot number one.
“It’s ONE TV, Mann! Stop being a whiny little baby!” Idiot number two!
“I’m calling the kill count on your lack of actual skill and more on the fact you keep spawn-killing me!”
“You fu-“ said Little Ben; his ragged hair bobbing up and down as he gritted his teeth.
“Ladies, ladies, come on now. It’s just a game.” I kicked both of them lightly, knocking them out of their little quarrel.
“Simon!” said Mann; he was wearing a full on shirt and tie, in a loose-fashion. He’d stolen a few glances from a few ladies coming in and out. Little Ben was in his casual gear. Metallica T-shirt, baggy jeans, vans; and the funny kind of curly fro that covered his head.
“Glad you made it, I was getting bored of this little cock,” Little Ben’s arm collided lightly with the muscular frame of Mann who gently moved out of the way.
“TOOT TOOT MOTHERf*ckERS, MICKEY’S GOT SOME ALCOHOL TO SNATCH!” yelled the one and only as he slammed a can of Guinness in my hand. I had to give it to him, he knew what I liked.
The night rolled on like any other party. We laughed, we joked, and we squabbled. Halfway through the night the notion of playing poker hit us and we set up a table a few other equally sober lads. Mickey flipped out, Jon won two hands and gained another twenty, and in the end we all enjoyed the time we had together. Considering I’d be leaving for Uni soon and Mann was immigrating to America near Christmas, I liked savouring these times. As we sat around the table laughing; joking, making friends, not staying in, not thinking about complicated sh*t I realized how often this didn’t happen, but I was glad when it did. Funny things always happened to us, and that night was no exception.
Maximus and Pete, the two mechanics we’d played poker with, shot up from tables with laughter as the music that reverberated for the last hour and a half stopped, the chimes of hundreds of voices replaced the silence. “Come on, they’re doin’ the bids, guys! Let’s check it out!” they said. Max, wrapping an arm around me spoke slurred words of happiness.
“Gonna get me the fittaaayy!” he yelled; his breath stinking of tequila.
We shuffled through the kitchen oddly like something out of Schindler’s List. As we made it to the garden, it was clear RJ had been preparing something big. The shed with the boardwalk had two tiki torches lit. Over him was the garden’s large willow tree. Me, Jon, Mann, Little Ben, Max and Pete all stared at RJ who had gathered everybody like some crazy, hipster Jesus. He himself was dressed in a makeshift toga obviously done up from a bedsheet. Crazy bastard.
“Okay, okay. Here’s the plan...” I heard Jon say in a close huddle with my friends.
“What are you planning?” I asked with wide eyes; all of a sudden a feeling of unease washing over me.
“Nothing! Nothing at all...” said Mickey as they all stood up and began to whistle. I didn’t like that. I didn’t want to be the one who got pranked tonight. Please, for the love of God.
“SILENCE!” yelled RJ as he adjusted his empty-lens glasses. What a dork. “Back in Roman times, it was once known to be a famous, and sexy- Ah who am I kidding. WE’RE BIDDING FIT BIRDS!”
The garden, literally stuffed shoulder to shoulder, gave a massive roar of cheers and claps. RJ took it in, loving the attention of a crowd. To him it was intoxicating. I peeked over at my friends who were wolf-whistling and flipping out. The girl in the denim shorts had her fingers clasped around Jon’s. Son of a bitch, some guys got all the luck. I smiled to myself that he’d found some part-time happiness and looked back to RJ. Mickey patted me on the back with a wink. Oh God, not me.
“Alright you c*nts, biddin’ war’s on. LET’S GET THIS UNDERWAY!” Another roar erupted but it lowered as RJ’s hands did. “First lady you get to bid for is the lovely Janice Bradshaw.” Wolf-whistles and yells of hopeful appraisal followed.
“She’s mine!” said Mann.
“SHE’S MINE!” replied Little Ben with gritted teeth, his finger playfully poking Mann.
“Both of you f*ck off! She’s mine!” said Mickey as he slapped them both with a crumpled wad of fivers.
“Janice likes long walks down back-alleys, romantic meals in the park, scallops or chips, and she’s studying to become a hairdresser!” Oh my, how sophisticated. “Can I get ten quid?”
Little Ben: “Twenty quid and ten pence!”
“You cheap bastard!” RJ stared at Little Ben with scornful hatred until the facade dropped. “I love it. SOLD!”
Yells of appraisal, claps, and wolf-whistles followed as Little Ben made his way up to the shed to collect Janice; she was young, too young. Her hair tied in a bun with sweatpants on. Little Ben never cared; he really didn’t. That worried me sometimes.
“You sneaky c*nt! I knew you were gonn-“ said Mickey as he approached them.
“Eh, she’s mine! Back up. You can have the next one!” He led her through the crowd and sauntered off inside. They were off to have their fun at the expense of cash. This was a form of prostitution. I never understood why the girls really did it. Maybe it was for popularity, maybe it was for f*ck all. Either way, I didn’t feel like busting open a detective case on it. It was all beneath me. It was free will all the way for all of us.
“Snooze you lose, Mickey,” I said with a soft pat. His shoulders lowered and he wiped his face. He was the epitome of defeat. No girl would fill that hole in his heart, at least until the next girl was brought out.
“Alright. NEXT UP! This as Andréa Coutier! She’s one of our more native ladies from the sunny isles of Jamaica,” said RJ like a real professional. Coutier was curvy, beautiful; her short hair cut like a boy – To these people, as long as she wasn’t looking like one in other places, things would run smoothly. “Coutier loves weed, rainbow coloured hats, and listening to Bob Marley.” The crowd gave gasps of awkward laughter and then a cacophony of light insults.
“What? TOO RACIST? Put a lid on it. Make your bids! Can I get me a tree-fiddy?”
“FIFTEEN! “ screamed Mickey!
“Woah, we got a guy with jungle fever up in here.” More laughter followed. Good one with the racism there, RJ. Hardy har. I’m sure your popularity would protect you from a beating.
“MICKEY! NO!” yelled Jon.
“Going once! Going twice?”
“FIFTEEN FIFTY!” yelled some big dude in the back; quite obviously her boyfriend. He shot a glance to Mickey. One that said; Don’t you dare f*cking bid any higher.
RJ’s mouth sped up to a speedy rambling. “SOLD.”
“AWW sh*t. I GIVE UP!” He pocketed his cash and huffed. He could throw stupid kiddy-tantrums sometimes.
“Alright, alright, take her down. Spend your night, collect your money,” said RJ as her boyfriend ran forward and yanked her off the stage. They sauntered off into the kitchen and out of my life forever. “OKAY! Next up; we got you the piece de renaissance. WE GOT YOU THE AXEL, ENGINE, AND f*ckING RIMS. We’ve got the lovely, the sexy, the devilish; Lorna Mitts...”
Jaws opened wide. Puck! Puck! Puck! Lorna Mitts was one of the most beautiful girls in College. She had a reputation; which nobody argued with up front on the account that she was gorgeous. Not in that skinny model sort of way, no no. She was curvy, elegant. She suited the look of a younger Elisha Cuthbert. Hair whitish hair in a pony-tail, her leather boots all the way up to her knees and the short skirt loosely clinging to her frame. Every hot-blooded male in that room must have felt their skimpys get tighter. Silence. For the longest time, the place was quiet as she walked out; a light giggle escaping her as all eyes slid down from her head to her feet. She ran back into the shed and lightly came out. She was shy, it was a good move
“What about now Mickey?” I whispered; the only guy not caught in the hypnotic trance.
“Ain’t enough cash in the world for her my man,” he whispered back with his eyes still glued on Lorna. “Ain’t enough of it in the whole f*cking country!”
RJ gave a laugh and yelled out again: “Lorna’s a native of America- well, we all know Lorna so let’s just cut the bidding down. Who’s got thirty?”
“Forty!” yelled Mickey with a grin. No way! He was going for it!
“Forty five!” yelled someone else in the crowd.
“Fifty!” screamed another.
“Now’s the chance boys. Pile the cash in! Pile it in! Let’s go,” whispered Jon. What? Wait? WHAT?!
“Sixty.” Yelled RJ; Lorna’s eyes widened, something was caught in her throat as RJ looked at her with a smile.
“EIGHTY QUID!” screamed a girl, men flocked around her quickly: like moths to flames.
“Woah. Can I get higher? NINETY!” yelled RJ as he gripped tightly onto Lorna’s hand.
“NINENTY-FIVE!” screamed one of the chavvy types, sweat dripping down the side of his dirty face.
“ONE HUNDRED f*ckING POUNDS!” screamed Mann, Mickey, Pete, and Maximus.
“Wait, what the f*ck are you guys doing?” I said to them all.
“Who’s the main bidder?” yelled RJ, his voice quivering a little. I stared at him but it was too late, as I slowly shot my head left; all of my friends had their fingers pointed at me. RJ looked out at me with a look of confusion that morphed into a sh*t-eating grin. At a colossal speed he let out: “Going once!” Slow as possible. Oh god, somebody for the love of God make another bid. “Going twice!” Come on RJ. I don’t wanna play your stupid bidding game. “Going SNAP CRACKLE AND f*ckING POP! SOLD! TO MR EDGLEY!”
Gasps from half the crowd slipped out. RJ raised his hands. “Yeah, come on people!”
Cheers erupted and died down as another girl was brought out. I stood where I was and stared at all my smug friends, laughter infecting
them all each one by one.
“Oh come on, it was in good faith. You deserve it, mate!” said Jon with a slightly sympathetic tone. How so!? Jon? Hmm? How so? Your ex just shagged a random guy! Why am I the one who needs a break?
“I don’t want her!” I hissed back, my eyes wide.
“Well isn’t that the cherry on the f*cked up ice cream that is my Friday,” said somebody behind me. I slowly turned, and there, a face as cold as stone but as beautiful as the sun stared at me.
“Oh...Er...Hi. I uh...They bid on you, not me,” I said, pointing my finger at my friends who quickly dispersed into the crowd. Mann looked at the fence, Jon hugged the girl in the jeans; Mickey walked around pointing up in the air and Pete and Max sauntered off like blind people. Sneaky little bastards.
“Well RJ says you’re the winner, so you’ve got me for the night. It’s getting late, anyway, let’s go,” her hand wrapped around mine and she dragged me away from the rest of the bidding; I turned back and like a child being torn away from his friends for doing something bad, I could see my asshole-brethren waving at me with smiles.
“Have fun,” Jon mouthed.
Lorna led me upstairs, past the girl who was still safe under the stairs. She led me down the cramped hallway and into the only bedroom left available; RJ’s little brother’s. Inside, the place was a shrine to Toy Story. I sat down on the Buzz Lightyear bed and sighed. Lorna shut the door behind her and came over to me. She got on her knees and rested her hands in my lap.
“So, come on, what’ll it be?”
“I’m sorry what?” I asked, unsure of what was happening; eyes wide.
“Finger-bash? Hand-job? Blowie? You paid a hundred so you get a little bit of fun for putting that much in my pocket.” She tapped her pocket and gave a brief smile before returning to that dull-face. The one with eyes that told more than her mouth ever could about where it’d been.
“No...I don’t want anything.”
“Come on,” she moaned. “My mouth’s killing me. My feet are sore; I’m doing this as a favour for RJ. Can’t you just be f*cking normal?”
“I don’t want anything!”
“God, I suppose you want to f*cking tell me how pretty I am or how much you love me?”
“What? No for f*ck sake, what is wrong with you? You’re that depressed because people pay attention to you?”
“No- I don’t know. Can we just get this over with? I’m not spending the night with you like those other girls. I’m tired. You get the freebie and I’m gone.” She stood up, crossed her arms and gave a sort of huff. I rubbed my hands in my face and tried to figure out how I’d gone from poker to this.
“You’re tired, right?” I asked as my eyes peeked through my hands; my voice muffling.
“Yes. I want to go home, Edgson.”
Her eyes squinted and widened. “Edgley who?”
Her eyes remained wide and she gave half a smile. “You’re that guy!”
“Please, no. No. Just. Look. I want one thing, alright? I’m not talking about anything else so drop it.”
Her facade softened. She slumped down on the bed with me.
“Yeah, sure...I’m sorry I didn’t mean to come off rude...I know I can be a little rash. I just don’t want to do this but RJ made me promise.” The veil of bored, tired little miss popular slipped off as she rubbed her eyes.
I sat awkwardly, not sure what to do or say; anything I did say I feared would turn the conversation to a dead end of disgust.
“You don’t have to uh...explain yourself to me.” My eyes looked around the room.
“I know I don’t. RJ’s...Look, I just have to do this alright?”
“I want you to do one thing for me then,” I said as the small TV eyed me from a bookcase.
She slowly slid down the white west, exposing her white bra beneath. She bit her lip with practised seduction and her pupils grew larger in the glint of the Buzz nightlight that was extremely f*cking bright. She leaned in to kiss me.
“Nothing sexual!” I said as I placed my hand on the top of her breast, and then off again as if it was a hot stove.
“Well what is it then?” she asked with a sigh.
“Come back to mine and watch a movie with me.”
“What?” She looked at me like she was choking.
“I’ve got you for the night, just come back and watch a movie with me.”
“You don’t have to woo me,” she said as she slid up her tank-top. Rubbing her face and letting out a grinding breath. “I’m already ready! Why can’t you be normal?”
“What? Would you prefer if I asked you to suck it hard and fast or slow and soft?” I stood up and adjusted my zip-up hoody for the cold air of the outside.
“Well yeah, maybe! A little!” she said with half a laugh that she stifled. “You’ve gotta be gay.”
“We both know I’m not gay,” I said as I headed to the door. “Just tell RJ you blew me, alright? I’m going home.”
“Wait!” she shot up from the bed and stopped herself from moving any further.
“Is that really all you want?” Her left foot tapped on the green alien carpet as her dark green eyes stared at me with stern concentration.
“Sure.” I shrugged.
“No funny business?”
“Don’t even have to sit together?”
“Are you worried I’ll try something?”
“The more this strange stuff tumbles out of your mouth, the less I worry.”
What a situation. I always regarded myself as a loner, since those unfortunate events, I had never understood how divided one could feel surrounded by people. Even now, as this girl, the epitome of high-school lust, was alone with me in a room. These types of situations were so rare, so unknown to me, that I couldn’t even bring myself to feel nervous around her. No woman scared me anymore.
“We don’t have to sit together.
“And I can leave when the movie’s over?”
“You can leave when you like. Nobody’s forcing you to come back,” I said as I opened the door; beckoning her out of the room. She can make her own choices.
“f*ck sake. Fine. Let’s go,” she shot out of the room and gave me a quick glance; I smirked back and took a deep breath as she sauntered down the stairs. My heart raced. I wasn’t suave, and I wasn’t clever. And the real reason behind asking her to come and watch a movie? Why if anybody knew, they’d realize how truly sad and pathetic I really was.