Date: Thu, 22 Nov 2012 21:39:37 +0000 From: Davey R Subject: BlueShark-Video-17 Author's note: This is sheer dumb fantasy, with sex and violence and dark elements. Not cool in real life, and not to be taken seriously. Just something you've found on late night TV. Any movies, actors, television shows, comic books, etc, that feature in this series are totally fictional. Feedback and stuff welcome. ------------ Before: "I'm a man, men have needs, and I need to fuck you as much as I can. I'm not offering you any romantic crap, but I'm not asking you to work hard and make sacrifices. "If you want, you can come with me, and I'll give you whatever you like. I can take you all around the world. And I'll protect you too, protect you from any of the bullshit that, right now, you think can get you. I'll show you it can't." Sharkey pauses, sits back. "The offer's on the table, kid. You can take it or leave it. You don't want it, we can carry on as we are now. Just think about it, yeah? Don't answer now, 'cause I know you think you can only say no. But you just think. And next time we meet -- answer then. So, what are you having for dessert?" As Sharkey drives them back to Ropers Reach, on a flat smooth road at a sedate pace, Justin stares dizzily into the starry distance feeling like he's on a rollercoaster. Every time he tells himself that of course he's going to reject this offer out of hand, he realises moments later that he's still weighing it up. Fuck, a definite 'no' sounds too final. Saying goodbye to the possibility of all that. An impassive Sharkey gives no sign that the offer was even made. ---- BlueShark Video 17 Now: They stop off at Sharkey's house, which Justin naturally finds himself appraising with renewed interest. It's nothing like his idea of a home. But then ideas can change, he could be persuaded. They're there so he can pick up the diner uniform he left behind. And again, the act of picking up the bundled stack of well-worn clothes, with their stale cheese and onions odor, balefully familiar, takes on a new meaning. It's a lame and crappy thing to have to scoop up in his arms in an act that inadvertently makes it appear precious to him. Then he accepts Sharkey's suggestion of leaving at least half the stuff he's bought at the mall today in a closet here, so that he can pick things up one at a time and not attract to much suspicion by going home with a shitload of new stuff. So it's taken for granted that he'll be back here a few more times, and now his stuff will lie waiting for him like a first step towards him living here. He wonders if Sharkey could have set all this up, planned it. He wouldn't put it past him, after what happened a couple of weeks ago. He's not sure what this man wouldn't do to get his way. As they head back out to the car, Sharkey pleasantly asks where he'd like be to dropped. He knows Justin doesn't like to be taken too near home in any of Sharkey's cars. That all-important, oh so tiresome secrecy. ----- When Justin gets home he brushes off questions about his new jacket. "No, I've had it for years" he says without flinching. He's hidden some of the other stuff in the trunk of his car, and will get out later when it's less conspicuous to do so. He barely sleeps that night. Telling himself again and again that of course he's going to say no to Sharkey's offer, and realising again and again that he doesn't completely want to, can't quite let go of the idea. And the thing is, he knows Sharkey really can keep that promise he made to protect him. Like with that fucking asshole, Tanner White. ----- A flashback. Justin finishing work late at the diner, staying back with Mrs Arthur as she locks up. Then him watching her drive off and setting off on his route home. The town's main street, usually so busy, is eerily empty and quiet at this time of night. The moonlight casts stark shadows that seem of a piece with the pin-drop silence. The noise of the occasional vehicle can be heard in the distance, but Ropers Reach isn't a big, bustling town, it's not the constant background roar of a city. "Hey." That's why the crisp sound of a nearby voice gives Justin such a start. Someone's leaning back in a small bricked-up crevice between buildings. Swamped in shadow, but now Justin looks closer, he sees the way the guy's leaning back on his shoes, spots the tip of a cigarette glowing in the dark. For a moment, Justin expects it to be Sharkey. The guy always seems to be appearing out of nowhere. As the stranger straightens himself up off the wall, moves forward the important couple of inches into the light, Justin flinches a second time, because it isn't the expected figure of Sharkey, instead it's the boyfriend of goddamn Marian from the diner. It's that Tanner White. Man, this guy is a dick. He has this aggressively stupid hick face. It's like he got angry when he couldn't solve a math problem in first grade, and then the wind changed and he got stuck like that for life, plus feels like giving someone a smack for it. This is not someone Justin is really eager to get into a conversation with. "Uh. Hello" Justin says, hoping that will be the end of the exchange even as he wonders what the moron is doing out here. The guy steps fully out of the shadow and starts walking alongside Justin, keeping pace with him. Shit. Just fuck off, is what Justin's thinking. "You're, um, you're not waiting for Marian are you?" Justin suggests blandly, "'Cause she finished work, like, hours ago." "No, man, no I ain't waiting for Marian...." Justin turns away as Tanner's nasty cigarette smoke heads his way in the mild breeze. "... as a matter of fact, it was a word with you that I wanted." Oh, fucking great, Justin thinks. His mind races. He puts together the fact that this guy is a violent asshole with the fact that he's going out with goddamn Marian and immediately comes to the conclusion that Tanner may have concoted some jealous fantasy in his own head. While Justin's pace doesn't falter, he's suddenly alerted to the possibility that there's nothing in this jerk's history to say he isn't about to attack him. Justin's eyes dart about for any possible assistance, but he sees no-one around, no-one at all. "Oh yeah?" he asks incuriously. "Oh yeah," Tanner says, reaching out and sticking a hand down on Justin's shoulder to stop him in his tracks. A quietly panicked Justin stops and turns to face the guy, deciding on the spot that breaking into a run might just accelerate whatever it is that Tanner's got planned for him. "Well. Okay, what is it?" Tanner takes his hand off Justin's shoulder, almost daring him to run. He takes a drag on his cigarette, drawing out the moment like he's doubtless seen assholes just like him do on TV. Fucking aspirational assholes for jerks like this. He blows the smoke out just to the side of Justin's face. "The thing is, I know about you, Justin. I know your little secret." Even as Justin's stomach tightens as it's confirmed this isn't going anywhere good, it does not occur to him that Tanner might be referring to his actual secret. He has so successfully compartmentalised that in his own mind, it's almost as if his deal with Sharkey doesn't exist in this real world that he shares with people like Mrs Arthur and Marian. This scene, of course, this flashback, takes place weeks before Sharkey started making inroads into his real life. No, he believes his first suspicion was right - that Tanner White thinks he and Marian might be at it behind his back. It's the kind of dumb two-plus-two this kind of jerk would habitually fail to put together correctly. And Justin's certainty about this probably explains the braying laughter that erupts from Tanner after he elaborates: "I know about you and that guy" then sees Justin's jaw drop. Justin looks around as this intruder laughs long and hard. Suddenly he's less keen for anyone else to show up. "Your face!" Tanner laughs, "I thought you might try to bluff it out, fagboy. But, man, I never seen anyone give themself away like that so easily. You haven't shit your pants back there too, have ya?" He coughs on his own cigarette smoke as he laughs some more. Fucking disgusting creature, thinks Justin, even as he recoils at being called 'fagboy'. "I don't know what you're talking about," he says, in spite of feeling pretty much rumbled, and starting already to calculate what this might mean. "Spare me," Tanner says. "Week ago, the old Olsen Groceries car lot over in the tumledowns? You getting into a car with some guy? Some guy with a skinhead? Some guy with a skinhead SODOMating you in that car?" Justin doesn't need to see his reflection to know the color has drained from him. Fucking shit, this can't be happening. "Yeah, I see I've got your attention" Tanner grins. "Well wha... what were you doing there anyway?" Justin challenges stupidly, as if anything that could help his situation might come from asking this. "I was getting ready to shoot up in the old gas station there" Tanner says matter-of-factly. "And you'd be surprised what a good view you get, between them old boards where the windows used to be." Godammit. Justin remembers bitterly that it had been his idea to get it over with right there in the car, instead of drive off somewhere. The tumbledowns are so abandoned, he hadn't even thought of it as being in public. Justin tries to think of something to say to cleanse himself of blame. He considers 'The guy's blackmailing me', but he can't work out the details in time. 'The guy pays me' doesn't seem justification enough. As the sidewalk starts to sway beneath him, he realises he's not saying anything, and the seconds are whizzing by. "Well... what- what do you want?" he stutters unsatisfactorily. Tanner grins again, big dumb fucking grin with that missing fucking hick tooth at the back. "What I ought to do is fucking bash the fuck outta you" he snorts, "I hate filthy little fagboys like you. You queer fuck." Unoriginal as his remarks are, Justin is sickened. This isn't fair, he thinks - I'm not a fag. It registers briefly that this abuse would be unfair, wrong, even if he was, and that a dickhead like Tanner White had no right to think he was better than anyone else. But that's hardly Justin's main concern right now. He starts saying "I'm not a-" as is taken aback at the speed with which Tanner spits "Save it, faggot!" like nothing Justin has to say will make any difference. Emboldened by Justin's fear, Tanner suddenly reaches out and takes a hold of his shirt at the chest, yanks him forward so that their faces are a couple of inches from each other. Justin can smell the fucking cigarettes and corn chips on the bully's breath. "Bet your girlfriend don't know she's engaged to a fucking faggot fairy, huh? What, do you steal her fucking panties and wear 'em to work? Go in the bathroom and try out her lipstick when she ain't looking?" Justin blinks, unsure how to respond to these nuggets of assholery. Lucky for him - if you can call it lucky - the dickhead soon runs out of inspiration. "Probably shouldn't hold you so close, huh, fruit? Probably think I'm gonna kiss ya, you little pervert." In disgust at his own mental image, Tanner gives Justin a shove that sends him stumbling to the pavement. There is a moment of sheer, animal terror for Justin. This is the moment where the fucking asshole might just start kicking, and kicking, and kicking him. This is where 'Justin Benchley' might become a name on news broadcasts, a victim of what would be called a hate crime. There's nothing implausible about it. Suddenly Justin becomes keenly aware of every terrible thing that has happened in the world to people just like him. The boundless horrors of this world that everyone ignores and turns into statistics and stories. Into movies. If he dies now, right now, no-one, really, will raise an eyebrow. It doesn't happen. The moment seems to have passed. The asshole stands over him and says: "You want me to keep your secret, fagboy, you gonna have to make it worth my while. Know what I mean?" Justin stares blankly for a second. "I want money, faggot" he clarifies, "Don't care how you get it. Once a week, let's say -- two hundred dollars. Starting tomorrow. Meet me, eight o clock --- how's about that same spot by the old Olsen's Groceries, huh? Ha, yeah, I like that. You meet me there, with two hundred bucks, I keep your dirty secret til the same time next week." A thought strikes him just before he turns to go. You get the feeling this doesn't happen often. "Hey, you got any money on you right now, fagboy? Hand it over to me." Wanting this over quick as he can, Justin fumbles in his pocket, hands the jerk about twenty dollars. Tanner snatches it. "You realise this is extra to the two hundred bucks you're bringing me tomorrow, right?" he snaps. "You'd only spend it on... on..." He doesn't pull a bigoted bon mot out of the hat in time, but chuckles "Huh, yeah" in apparent satisfaction as if he had, before walking off, then breaking into a run. Hard habit to break, fleeing the scene. "Marian, you sure can pick 'em" Justin whispers quietly. But he's not really listening to his own words. The arm on which he's supporting himself is trembling violently, and he breaks now into a cold sweat, knowing it's only the immediate danger that has been forestalled. He finds it hard to climb back onto his feet, until an abrupt burst of adrenalin propels him almost onto the goddamn rooftops, and suddenly sitting still is not an option. He runs, faster than Tanner, and in the opposite direction. He runs so fast his feet barely touch the ground. All the way home. And then, completely unable to let his parents see him, too panicked to show his face in the still-illuminated family living room and make some excuse for his terror, he gets into his own car, parked on the street rather than the drive, and sets off. Sets off for the only place he can go, the only person he can possibly say anything to about this. He heads for Sharkey's place. It's harder to find on those unlit rural roads than the times when Sharkey drives him there. He thought he knew the way from memory, but the roads form more of a black labyrinth than he'd expeced - maybe in his terror he's just not paying attention properly, not thinking straight. When finally he locates the gates, they loom abruptly out of nowhere in the headlights. Justin realises he barely has any idea how he got here, no memory of the journey, which he spent absorbed in nightmare flash-forwards of his future. In no state to drive, a more level head would say. But he's not feeling so level-headed right now. He feels the slipperiness of his palm as he sets the handbrake. He winds down the window and pushes the button on the intercom urgently, over and over. Finally there's a click of response. A voice slurs "Yeahhhh?" challengingly, like its owner has just been woken up. "Mr Sharkey?" Justin asks, realising distantly how rarely he addresses the man directly, how formal he sounds. "No," it says briefly, "Who's this?" "Is... is Mr Sharkey there?" Justin persists. He wonders who this guy could be, while at the same time not really caring and wanting this obstacle out of the way as soon as possible. An employee maybe, a security guy. Another male lover? Or... no, Sharkey had never given any sign of having roommates. He chuckles shortly at that thought, Sharkey sharing some dishes and groceries rota, without real mirth. "That really depends on what you're selling" the voice responds in amusement. Justin gets the feeling whoever this is is going to drag this out. He's struck by the thought that whoever he's talking to now is the exact same kind of spiteful asshole as Tanner White. He's came all the way here just to deal with another one. Fuckin' assholes everywhere. "Well, if he is there, could you tell him that--- that Justin is here. J-Justin Benchley..." - he feels like he's exposing himself in saying this, but what's the fuckin' difference now - "... and I want to talk to him. It's urgent. He'll want to talk to me." Justin doesn't know for certain that that's true. Sharkey always seems to want to be with him, but then Sharkey initiates their every encounter, so by definition they only meet when Sharkey wants it. Justin has never given any thought to what Sharkey does the rest of the time. The guy says he's a software developer. Justin wonders if he can come up with an antivirus that can wipe out the infection that is Tanner White, wonders if he can put together some anti-spyware that prevents spying eyes from -- "Justin" says a voice, crisper than the last. Definitely Sharkey's. Sounds amused, but welcoming. "Come right in." With a click, the voice is gone, and the metal gates open. Justin feels a flood of relief, but then his heart starts pounding again when he remembers that it's only another minor obstacle out of the way. Sharkey doesn't seem to have been roused from his bed when he greets Justin out front of the entrance. It looks like he might have been working out. He's in sweatpants and old sneakers, bare from the waist up. Justin experiences a vertiginous, quickly shrugged off sense of pride that this masculine brute is his lover. And look at the way this guy lives - someone like this must be able to come up with a solution to the problem of Tanner fucking White. Sharkey wraps a powerful arm around the obviously distressed Justin, ushers him inside. Justin smells the sweat from Sharkey's armpit. He thinks of sex, imagines in his confusion that that's why he's here. Wishes - Christ, yes that's what he's wishing - that it was as simple as that. Once inside, he paces the floor, spills out the whole thing about his encounter with Tanner White. Struggling not to cry, he lurches between making stuttering accusations at Sharkey and desperately begging for a solution. "The funny thing is," he babbles, not finding it funny at all, "that the jerk doesn't realise that I can totally fuckin' afford to pay him the money he wants just so long as I'm still making these fuckin' ... dates with you. Two hundred dollars a week, I can make that over there in that bedroom of yours in twenty minutes, huh? Just it's not a totally ideal situation, getting fucked by you so I can pay him the money not to tell people about me getting fucked by you. Funny, though, huh? Funny!" Sharkey looks thoughtful, not particularly troubled. He's more interested in the new facets he's seeing of his young lover than the crisis itself. "Sit down a minute, son," Sharkey says, "Just sit down, and listen to me, yeah?" Justin shakes his head, says "I don't feel like sitting" but does so anyway, perching himself at the very edge of the nearest sofa like he's poised to take flight at any moment. Sharkey pours him a good dose of whiskey. "Here. Knock that back." Justin takes the glass. "I can't... I gotta - ha!", he rubs his hand over his forehead, "I gotta drive..." "No you don't," Sharkey corrects with assurance. "You came right here from meeting that little runt in the street, yeah? You picked up your car from outside your home and came right here?" "Yeah" Justin confirms irritably, not remembering if he actually said this in his babbling when he first got here. "Your family are going to be wondering where you are, and you're in no state to go home and tell them a load of lies. Look at you, you're a mess. Call them now, tell them you're staying over at some friend's. Not your fiancee's, they might ask her later, or it might come up. You met a buddy, in the diner, who lives in DeMontley now. He was having car trouble, you drove him home, and now it's late you're staying over, having a couple of beers." "But what'll I..." "You'll stay here overnight, Justin. And before you start, no, not with me. You can sleep in a spare room." "Like I'm ever going to be able to sleep" Justin says, but glad to be given any kind of practical advice, he drinks up and makes just this call. He doesn't make it in front of Sharkey, goes into another room. He's probably not totally convincing in his story, but figures his dad will just assume the weird rhythm of his speech is because he's pretty drunk and trying too hard not to show it. Even if he think he's lying, it's not like his dad would guess at the truth. This done, he returns to Sharkey. Sits down in front of the man again, waiting anxiously for further instruction. Sharkey, at least, seems able to think lucidly about the situation, which is more than Justin can do right now. So he's upset when Sharkey says: "So what do you want me to do?" "Shit, man - I-I don't know. I thought you might be able to think of something-" "No, no. Listen: when you drove up here, you must have had some idea in your mind about what I could do to fix this, yeah? What was it you saw me doing?" "Look, I don't know, man, okay?? I don't know - I just --- it's your fucking fault I'm in this mess..." Sharkey doesn't react to the accusation. He just goes on: "Well, did you maybe want me to pay him off? He's after money, obviously, maybe you thought I could give him a lump sum, send him away with that?" Justin shrugs jerkily. "Maybe. Maybe something like that." "Not exactly that, though, huh?" Sharkey nudges. "Because you know, don't you, that once you start giving in to those kind of demands from a guy like that, the demands are just going to get bigger. You make it look easy for you to stump up two hundred dollars tomorrow night, and next week he's gonna be asking for two hundred and fifty. Likewise, if I give him, say, five thousand bucks to back off, it's not long before he's asking for five thousand more. Hell, I could offer him a million pounds - dollars - and he's gonna figure, why not two million. Trust me, I know this type." "I bet you do." Justin pouts furiously, feeling the heat of the scotch across burning the inside of his chest. Sharkey rests a hand on Justin's shoulder. "You want me to scare him off, don't you?" he asks reasonably, as Justin looks up at him through tear-glittering eyes. "You figure a guy with my money - I must have connections?" Justin sniffs, reaches up to wipe away the teary glaze, which resolves into a drop trickling from the corner of his eye. "I... I don't know. Maybe...?" Sharkey smiles. In the dark, shadow falling across his face, Justin can only just make out that ominous smile. "C-can you?" Justin asks quietly. He's embarrased when Sharkey reaches out with his thumb to wipe the tear roughly from his cheek. "For you, babe? For you, of course I can do something. Hey, call it an employee benefit." Then he lets the same hand fall against the side of Justin's pretty, broad face to cup it. He kneels down in front of him so that they're eye to eye. "Tomorrow night I'll arrange for someone to go meet this Tanner White, over there in the tumbledowns. They'll have a lengthy conversation, Justin, after which Tanner White will decide the best thing for him is to leave town, and for a good long while. Trust me, kid, I can call on some persuasive people. "Listen to me. As of right now, this little jailbird arsehole has already stopped being a problem for you. For us. You can wake up here tomorrow and forget the whole thing like it was a bad dream." Sharkey kisses Justin on the mouth, and the disbelieving youth doesn't resist it. "Okay?" Sharkey says. Justin nods, open-mouthed. "S-sure" he agrees. He's too anxious to really believe it 'til he sees it happen. ----- Despite thinking there's no chance that he will sleep, Justin goes out like a light. After the blitz of nervous energy all over his body, it's like he abruptly dries out. There's a comedown, and the alcohol hits him, and he all but passes out in the soft bed of one of Sharkey's spare rooms. He wakes early, though. However, Sharkey is up even earlier, and serves him up some bacon, eggs, OJ and then coffee. He's dressed pretty much the way he was last night, with the addition of a black vest. Somehow Justin can't picture the intimidating Sharkey in a pair of PJs. There is, though, something reassuring about seeing him carrying out these domestic tasks. Justin chomps on his crisp bacon, suddenly ravenous. "I sh-should be sick of the sight of this stuff," he ventures nervously, not having really conversed with Sharkey at any length before now. Curiously, this feels like a morning-after-sex thing, even though it's the one time he's met up with his 'employer' when they haven't actually fucked. "We serve it up by the buttload at the diner," he continues, before looking at his watch. "... real bad for you - man, I've got to be in for a shift today." "What time?" asks Sharkey. "Not til two. Shit, I'll have to call home too." There is silence for a little while, aside from the sounds of eating and drinking. Sharkey swigs black coffee. Maybe he ate earlier, the food seems to be entirely for Justin. He wants to ask more about what's going to happen about Tanner White, but finds the words choking in his throat. With Sharkey having established last night that he was going to take care of it, Justin now feels the matter has been taken out of his hands and it would be some kind of faux pas to mention it again. He still can't totally believe that this is all going to be fixed like Sharkey says. He can't. But he also has this weird superstitious feeling that if he asks any questions the spell will somehow be broken, the miracle won't happen. After he's showered and got back into his clothes from last night, Sharkey sits him down again. "Okay son, best you behave as normal. Drive back home, then get yourself to work. Remember, you've been at your friend's place in DeMontley. He rooms with a bunch of other college kids and you all got drunk. You'll be acting weird, so just keep at the back of mind the idea that maybe you were taking some drugs you shouldn't have been. Don't say that, but let your family think it if they get suspicious." An open-mouthed Justin nods. "As long as you pretty much promise you won't be hanging out with those guys again, it'll be forgotten in a few weeks. Make it look like you genuinely regret it, just don't go overboard. Try to look like you're angry at yourself." "Okay" Justin agrees quietly, looking like an aspiring actor learning his lines. "That... probably won't be too hard." "Again, to be on the safe side, you should take a detour when you leave here. Don't drive direct into town, you should come in from the other side, the road you'd be taking if you really were driving back from DeMontley. It'll also help you get the story straight in your head." "...yeah. Yeah, okay." Sharkey's confidence makes Justin think maybe he did do the right thing in coming here. "Then go to work, head down, don't act any different than you would normally." Justin feels a little sick as he remembers he'll be on shift with goddamn Marian for part of the day today. If Tanner White has already spoken to her about him... Justin only hopes he'll have kept the secret to himself. After all, no good letting it get out before he's squeezed as much cash out of it as he can. And weren't Tanner and Marian fighting the other week? Maybe they've stayed split up this time. "I'll... I'll just act pissed off," he hears himself say out of nowhere, "That's pretty normal for me in that place." Sharkey smiles. Justin scratches his head, consumed with this new worry. "What is it?" asks Sharkey. "Huh? No. Nothing." Sharkey looks him in the eye. "One problem at a time, kid. We'll fix this." Like he already knows what Justin's thinking. ----- Justin's fear on the Marian front is fortunately proved baseless when he gets to the diner. No sooner have their shifts overlapped than he hears her bitching about how she hasn't heard from that jerk Tanner in two weeks, ever since they had their bust-up at the bowling alley. That afternoon in the tumbledowns was only a week ago --- Sharkey cumming down his throat --- so if she hasn't heard anything since before then, he's in the clear. Justin's relief is immense. And then an hour goes by, and it diminishes as he gets bored with hearing her complain about the asshole. The frequency of Marian's gripes about Tanner always increases the closer she comes to getting back together with him yet again. Then another hour goes by and he just wishes she'd shut the fuck up. It's like listening to nails on steel. "It's okay for you, Justin," she growls at one point, "You're engaged to be married, it's all peachy for you." This is an even better confirmation of her ignorance. There'd have been some extra edge to that if she'd known the truth. Bitch would've been physically incapable of restraining herself from it, even if she was trying to be clever. Then, thank Christ, she leaves. In the comparative silence that follows, Justin only feels relieved for a few moments before a dull gnawing of anxiety returns to his gut, and he keeps looking over to the diner's oversized clock, watching the minutes tick slowly by to that parking lot meeting with Tanner White. The one he won't be going to. The one he'll simply watch going by, on a clock face, right here. All that tension, everything it means, represented by some pointers going round over a disc. "You okay, Justin?" Mrs Arthur asks at 7:40, making him flinch. "You look kind of-" "I'm fine" Justin says quickly. "Just, um, just I didn't sleep a lot last night." "Ah" she says, losing interest. Kids. Probably out partying. ---------- Here we see what Justin does not. Tanner White, smoking a third cigarette as he waits out back of the old Olsen's Groceries, watching night fall. Checking his watch, which he mugged from some guy a couple of months ago. Seeing it's only a couple of minutes off eight and thinking he's gonna make that fag squirm and pay all the more if he dares keep him waiting. he thinks too that while he's here, maybe he'll see what it's like - make that little fucker suck on his dick. Justin Benchley has kind of a pretty mouth. It's not like Tanner didn't get a couple of stupid little wimps in prison to do the same thing. When a car pulls up, and he is blinded by the glare of headlights, he thinks it can only be Justin, but sinks back into a crevice to be on the safe side. As someone exits the car, slamming the door, a voice calls out. A deep voice, British-sounding. Certainly not that faggy, polite Justin's. Tanner, of course, pretty much conflates 'faggy' and 'polite'. "Tanner White!" the voice says aggressively, "I know you're here. Got a little something for ya, so come out." Tanner has never heard the voice of what he thinks is Justin's boyfriend, and having assumed he was American, doesn't connect this stranger who's feaures are blacked out by the headlights being behind him, and who wears a woolly hat. "Get out here, sunshine! I've brought you everything that's coming to you. Out you come, little boy, if you want your magic beans." Tanner has spent his young lifetime among lowlives. He's got a keen, animal instinct for danger. He keeps as far back as he can, senses it's time for him to run. As two more guys get out of the back of the car, fucking big guys too, he's convinced of it. Not giving them time to close in - he senses they know where he is already - he makes a break for it before it's too late. Runs the only way he can, down the nearest alley. Into a fist, because there are two more guys down there. Sharkey always scouts the locations first. There's a scuffle, but Chet and Kai are experts at this. Kai emerges from the alley with the struggling Tanner in a headlock. The five men overwhelm him, thudding sounds of violence, and when their huddle parts, he's out cold. Rob and Gregory take him by the legs and armpits respectively, while the others open the trunk of Sharkey's vehicle. He's dumped inside, and the guys all leave quickly in the same car. ------- Sat at home on his bed that evening, looking at the TV without really watching it, Justin gets a call from Sharkey on his phone. He would not welcome this normally, but he answers eagerly, at once. "Hello?" he whispers. "Hey, Justin. I just had a call from my guy. The problem is solved. Sleep well, sunshine." And then the line goes dead. Justin lays back, closing his eyes. He doesn't know why he should take Sharkey so much at his word, but a cool flood of relief just washes over him. --- The next day at work, Marian is even more of a pain in the ass than usual. The reason for this is quickly vocalized: "Tanner's took off. Completely left town, the selfish jerk. I had a message from him on Budskitchen... he said the cops were on his tail 'coz of that liquor store he robbed-" She checks herself only briefly, hazily aware she shouldn't have alluded to knowing something about that, but too self involved to care that much. - again, Justin is relieved at the confirmation of her lack of cunning - "So he's heading for Europe! Said he couldn't tell me where. Boy, what an asshole. I sure can pick 'em, can't I? Yeah, well tell me something I don't know." In fact no-one's telling her much of anything right now. It's going to be hard enough to get her to shut up today as it is - she's been all set for her traditional reconciliation with that prick. Assuming things had gone by their usual schedule, she was probably expecting make-up sex sometime within the next week. Probably had the bra and panties picked out. Justin even smirks. To the muffled cacophony of her frustrated grousing, Justin goes into the staff toilet and all but punches the air. Man, he's so grateful to Sharkey right now, if the guy was here he'd suck his cock for free. When he ruts with his girlfriend that night, Beth asks what's got into him. On the deleted scenes package you're watching here, this montage is scored, almost sarcastically it seems to you, with the kind of pseudo-indie jangley-pop that always accompanies a happy plot resolution in this show - a pregnancy or a reunion, or someone taking their leave to head off to better things. A male vocalist sings soaringly about happiness where you didn't expect it, or whatever. ------ This seems to be done only to strike a contrast with the opening of the next scene. Now you hear the same dissonant electronic sounds that soundtracked the first appearance of 'Shackley' in this narrative. Here it's the sound of anguished confusion. Or maybe it's just the appearance of Tanner White that fosters this interpretation. Tanner White strung up in manacles. The room, let's assume it to be somewhere on the sublevel of Sharkey's home. 'Dungeon' seems the apt term for it. Here's a thing: Tanner White is actually pretty sexy. I mean, in the most crude way - he has a hot body. This hasn't been clear before, in previous scenes when he's been scruffily dressed and we've focused on his aggressively belligerent face. Stripped off, there's an appeal. Strung up like this --- even more so, man. He's muscular, maybe from working out in prison. A squatly muscular physique, emphasised by the position of his arms, and his feet, also manacled but seperated by a bar that's maybe a couple of foot long. He has small, scattered tattoos about his body, guns, knuckledusters and bible quotes mainly, and a buff chest whose nice covering of wiry black hair tapers down some defined abs in a straight line that expands again at the pubes. There are red, throbbing streaks over his sweating torso. These are explained readily by the flog we see dropped carelessly onto the floor by his trapped foot. He cries out, coughs up saliva as Sharkey punches him in the stomach again. From behind, Gregory clutches his hair to prevent him doubling over, to the extent that he even can. It's been a long night. "See, cunt?" Sharkey grins. "Now you've had a good feel of what it's like to be fucked by me, maybe you can see why Justin Benchley keeps coming back for more!" A shuddering Tanner splits pinkish saliva from the side of his mouth in the same haphazard way a patient at a dentists' drools the mouthwash from a numbed lip. "Uhhhh... okay man.... I get it... pleeughhh...uhhhhhh... please..." "Plus Gregory's cock up your ass too" Sharkey continues, "How's that for a bonus?" Gregory grins, eyes roving up and down Tanner's helpless buff body like he's barely even got started, like his mind is rife with possibilities. Sharkey presses a key on his phone. The small thin wire collar now fastened around Tanner's neck shocks the fuck out of him, and he screeches until it stops. "You know what, Tanner, you remind me a bit of myself at your age," Sharkey goes on, "Little fuckin' delinquent, aren't you? Probably got a rap sheet like the one I had back then... before I got good enough at what I do to fucking erase the rap sheet. It's a long, hard climb for guys like us, ain't it? Now, maybe what you need is a mentor..." He slams the cunt in the abs again, waits for the anguished reaction to stop. Tears stream from Tanner's eyes. "As if. No, boy, that's not what you need. I said you remind me of me - and why should I encourage the competition, huh? No, what a wayward boy like you needs is man to take you firmly in hand, yeah? Someone to give you a little discipline -- that's right, someone who can take you firmly in hand..." He grabs the fucker's nuts and squeezes them. "... and fucking squash you. We need to take you out of contention, boy." At length, he releases the shrieking Tanner's balls. "Fortunately, I've found someone who'll be happy to take responsibility. Oh, you're gonna have all the discipline you can stand. And then some." "Hey, Mr Sharkey" Gregory chips in, " How's about I have another go at him with the flog?" Sharkey smiles, pats Tanner's bruised face. "Treat yourself, Gregory. Get out the whip. After all, we've gotta make the most of this one while we can. Tomorrow he heads off to Europe. And it's a one-way trip." ----------- When Tanner finally passes out after the ordeal of that night, he is drugged to make sure he stays that way for a good long while. And when he wakes up a couple of days later, he finds himself in another dungeon, a more traditional one, that is thousands of miles away and across the Atlantic. Sharkey quickly found a buyer for his new property - and no wonder, since he offered Tanner at an outrageously discounted price for a fast sale. Now the thug finds himself locked away deep beneath an old English manor house. He is, as he will swiftly find out, the property of an eccentric aristocrat with a particular penchant for these vulgar American boys. "If you're going to act like a mindless beast," the Lord will say, "then by jove I'm going to treat you like one." But of course, it will be the sadistic aristocrat who reveals himself as the true animal, just as soon as the first of the punishments are enacted. Genteel above stairs, he will revel like a hog in inflicting torments on Tanner White down here in his fag cellar. Only ever known, to his slaves, as the Lord. Look. No sooner has the young criminal come to than a door has opened at the top of a staircase. As a tall figure enters, a cane in one hand, a riding crop in the other, the scene fades to black. There'll be no bail for Tanner this time. He's at the mercy of the Lord. -------- Justin Benchley, of course, knows nothing of Tanner's life sentence somewhere in the English countryside. Perhaps knowing the truth would give him some guilty, animal sense of satisfaction. Certainly he entertains some fantasies of revenge on the violent asshole. More likely, though, that he'd be horrified at seeing these fantasies brought to life - and Sharkey has no desire to let the boy see too much of himself. It's a pedestrian irony that Sharkey exerts so much energy on making men fear and obey him, and yet now doesn't want to do anything to scare the basically wholesome Justin off. No, let him believe that Tanner has merely been intimidated, scared away. In the days after making his proposal to Justin, Sharkey finds himself barely able to think about anything else. It had been his plan to drop his offer on the kid from nowhere, a surprise attack - unfortunately he can't stop thinking in these metaphors - and then allow him a suitable amount of time to come to terms with it. A necessary strategy, since he'd figured the smalltown-minded Justin would never agree out of hand - but given time to think about it, and to live more days of the life he realises he now has an escape route from, the odds would become much more favorable. What Sharkey had not reckoned on is how irritably anxious this interval would leave him. It's only now, as it hangs in the balance, that he realises quite how much he wants - no, how much he needs Justin Benchley. He finds himself walking out back of his home on dull, mild days, and remembering Justin there on that lawn, cleaning those cars. He thinks of every inch of that young man's body, the soft skin and the hard muscles underneath, the rich color of his curled hair in the sunlight of that day, Standing here alone, he fights deep down in himself against the knowledge that that day is over, and gone. He realises how much he wants it back, and how much he wants it for always - or for as long as it lasts, as long as he can possibly make it last. And of course he knows that what Justin is now cannot last forever, but perhaps, yes just maybe, it can last long enough for him. Even in twenty years, even when he is sixty and Justin is forty, well, he will still have his coveted younger man, and who knows, Justin may age well ... perhaps that special quality that makes him will be preserved... Sharkey shakes, his head, knows he is a smitten fucking fool who should know better. It makes him angry, too, to think about his own future, the idea of his own decline. It makes him want to go back into that house and have his vicious way with one of his slave cunts, remind himself that he is a master of young men, that what he wants he gets... And so that's what he does. Jordon Lunar doesn't know what hits him as Sharkey pins him down and pounds the hell out of his surfer dude ass, crams a dildo roughly into his mouth at the same time he does it. Can't imagine, as he gags, what makes the vicious man so fucking furious. ------ There are not only deleted scenes with this package, it appears; there are apocryphal ones too. Here is a scene that has no place in the events of the narrative, one that is entirely from Sharkey's imagination. It is a replay of Tanner White's night of torment at the hands of Sharkey and his henchman Gregory. Except now Gregory has been excised from the scene, and replaced with Justin. Justin as Sharkey's partner in crime, exacting his vengeance on his hick tormentor in full complicity. Knowing everything about what Sharkey is. Justin Benchley unleashing his inner demon and enjoying the power to punish the trapped and helpless Tanner White for his trespass against him. A vision of Sharkey handing the flog over to Justin, and Justin taking it eagerly and curiously. Fondling the handle in the palm of his hand and feeling the weight of it. Sharkey and Justin looking into each other's eyes and grinning. "We can do anything we want, " Sharkey tells Justin, and Justin nods in amazed agreement, liberated from everything about his old life, including the quiet burden of fearing dickheads like Tanner White. To prove this, Justin thrashes the dickhead across the chest with the flog. Tanner squealing out helplessly feels so good, Justin does it again and again. "Yeah! So who's the fucking fagboy now, bitch!" Justin taunts. Arms folded, Sharkey observes proudly as his young lover gets his revenge on the sexy jail thug, whipping criss-cross lines all over his body. "You want to keep him, huh babe?" asks Sharkey. "Maybe he can be your pet, huh? Your little bitch ass toy, kept down here? Sure would teach him a lesson for thinking he can push you around." But here is where the vision fails, where the scene fades away. Sharkey cannot truly conceive of such cruelty in Justin. Having sated his desire for vengeance, the lad's conscience would soon trouble him. He does not have that capacity for excess, does not share in Sharkey's boundless and insatiable malice, his sheer lust for sexual power. Most likely, he would not fascinate Sharkey so much if he did. No, Justin can never share fully in Sharkey's world. Should he accept his offer, Sharkey must protect him from that as much as anything else. -------- The last thing that Sharkey wants is to appear too eager, so he leaves it for weeks before he makes any kind of contact with Justin. By wilfully depriving himself of this contact, Sharkey finds his craving for the kid increasing. Unsatisfied suddenly with his present slaveboys, Pilce and Jordon Lunar, finding them not to his taste, he becomes more and more obsessed with the face and the form of Justin Benchley. The sound of his voice, the smell of him. These become what desires feels like, tastes like, looks like. He drags Pilce up from his darkness one evening. Tries to take his mind off this infatuation by using the worthless maggot as his punchbag. He hurls the weakling piece of faggot gristle around like a fuck ugly ragdoll. Makes the litte puke cry and beg as he hurts him. After cumming over what's left of the helpless little turd, he tires and has it taken back where it belongs. But then sitting back with a whiskey, he thinks he perhaps should have hung on to Tanner White a little longer. That dude could have taken a little more punishment. A lot more meat on him to grab at, more muscle to pound. More of a connection to Justin too. Torturing Tanner White - that would also have felt like something he was doing for the kid, a good deed. This, you see, is what Sharkey considers a demonstration of love. And to be fair, Justin Benchley was pretty fucking glad of it, even if he didn't know all the detail. Offloading onto Pilce doesn't take the edge off for Sharkey as much as he might have hoped. He feels the burden of his desire for the kid like a weight. Finds afterwards that he is saving himself up for Justin, ready for when he can have him next. -------- Weeks pass. Justin spends more and more time with his fiancee, who teases pointedly that he has been neglecting her. He hasn't realised this before - he spends so much time trying to escape her company for his lucrative meetings with Sharkey that, to him, she seems ever-present. This, he admits to himself, must be exactly what she means . In trying to get the cash together to make their married life easier, he's been trying to escape her company on a regular basis, and naturally in an evasive way. There's no suspicion from her that he might be cheating - which in a weird kind of way dents his pride - but she drops hints that she thinks he's going off her. Man, always hints and teasing. not just coming out and saying it. Jesus, at least Mr Sharkey just laid his cards on the table.... They spend a lot more time together, but he's distracted and they bicker. When she mentions stuff about the wedding, about afterwards, he gets irritable. Sharkey's offer to him has somehow made this future seem tentative, more a possibility than a fact. But he knows that he shouldn't be thinking this way - the idea that he would go off with Sharkey is unthinkable. The idea of living with a man, as his partner, that is something totally other than the things he does for money, it is an alien idea. Was. Is. It is, present tense, unthinkable. And then there is Beth, aggravating him by reminding him of all the things they can't afford. Coming up with budgets and cutbacks, a list of cheap honeymoon ideas, mortgage deals that cost less per month but go on something like 200 years after the pair of them are cold in the ground. He knows now the flaw in his plans. She assumes he doesn't have money, because by rights he shouldn't. And he can think of no plausible way now to explain the thousands of dollars he has racked up from his 'dates' with Sharkey. No way he can just whip that pile of cash out now and have her say oh darling, that's wonderful, no questions asked. He's been seriously considering explaining it away by saying he's been dealing drugs. He figures that will initially render her livid beyond belief - oh Justin I never expected anything like this of you, not in a million years - but that it'll sure be more palatable to her than male prostitution. He believes that she will, ultimately, be willing to share in the money and keep the secret of where she believes it comes from. Just as long as he promises his dealing is over and that he will never, ever, do it again. He feels a certain pride in himself as he surveys the efficacy of this plan. Coolly and crisply he considers its consequences in the short and long term - it will resurface in their marital arguments forever, of that he is certain. But because he anticipates this, and because he will keep to himself the truth of the matter, he figures it won't matter much to him. He'll play his repentant role all right, but he'll be looking at himself and Beth as if from afar. Up on a hill, looking down on a fiction with a smirk. There's something else too. Beth won't see him as the naive sweet kid anymore. She'll see him as someone who's stood up and took action to make their lives together better. Yeah, she'll think he's done something shady, something stupid and dangerous. But he's seen the way girls react to asshole guys. It'll probably, he ponders, make him seem hotter to her. She can think of him as her rough diamond. Plus, she's always claimed to be liberal about drugs and stuff. People can do whatever they want, she'll say, it's their choice. The idea of Justin as drug dealer might shake her up because it's illegal, because of the crazy risk of him being jailed. But she won't think he's done anything actually wrong. Then again... What Beth claims to be liberal about and how she'll actually react when this shit gets real - well, those are two seperate things. After all, Beth says she is liberal about sexuality. She's got a couple of fag friends she hangs around with regular, giggling and watching lame-ass TV shows about sluts and idiots in high schools dancing and singing. But she sure as hell wouldn't calmly accept the idea of her boyfriend getting fucked by a guy for money, and neither would that quietly raise him in her estimation. And... What Justin can imagine himself to be calmly contemplating, and what he can actually say to Beth in real life, these, too, are seperated by a huge gulf that he cannot bring himself to leap. Can he really bring himself to lie about dealing drugs? Prepare himself for a raging argument that will at least initially cause Beth to call off the wedding, and will take weeks to reconcile - and even afterwards never totally be forgotten? He doubts his ability to stick with his story during that first blaze of white hot anger - having to defend and justify himself over something he has never actually done, having to invent all the details that he already knows she will demand as she frenziedly tries to work out how close he actually is to being sent to jail. It is a performance he cannot psyche himself up for. And cruelly, inevitably, there is so much contrast between these thoughts and.... and thoughts of the simplicity of what Sharkey has offered him. No lies, no secrets to live with and hide for the rest of his life. No performing a part in a fiction, no sense of watching himself from afar. Sharkey has not asked for his love. He hasn't asked for his hard work. There are not enough tensions betwen them for them ever to have the difficulties of resentment or argument. Sharkey has offered him something utterly straightforward. He has even stated his attention to lavish gifts upon gifts upon Justin, all the material things he can ask for, travel to exotic places away from the tiny world of Ropers fuckin' Reach. Hell, even Sharkey's place up in the hills feels a world away, a whole other dimension than this small town and its drudgery. Man, he sees himself tanned all over on a distant beach, a whole future that is like that one great vacation he's had in his entire life. No shame in being fucked by Sharkey when there's no-one else to answer to. These are the thought processes that play on a loop as Beth talks more about the wedding invites, and Justin gets more irritated. --------- On it goes. Then one morning, Justin is at work in the diner. Looking kind of tired from not sleeping so good. We see him stop in his tracks. There on his station, like at the start, is the trucker guy. Flannel shirt, shades, baseball cap. Sharkey. Asking for hash browns. They make a date in whispers, Sharkey eats up and leaves. The meeting time they arrange is two days later. This, then, is it. Sharkey will want his answer. Justin is left with a plunging, helpless feeling. Pulled under by a savege tide with nothing to grasp at. He doesn't even know in what direction he wants to go. Still there is the certainty that can't accept Sharkey's offer. Still there is the impossibility of completely dismissing it. He has been turmoil for a couple of months, what seems like an eternity. But the two days that follow go by in slow motion, wholly unreal. Sharkey takes him out of town. Not to his house, that disputed territory, that looming promise of another life. No, he takes him out to the countryside again. Somewhere they can pull the car over and get down to it. Silence hangs over their ride, managing to do so even over the sounds of the radio, which has become a tinny and distant irrelevance. Having assumed that his rejection or otherwise of Sharkey's offer would be the first order of business, Justin finds instead an awakwardness between them, an inwillingness to be the first one to mention it. They don't do any smalltalk, they never have. Sharkey takes Justin into the woods, on a dirt track. A secluded part of the forest is their eventual destination. It would be a bizarre thing for him to put into words, but there is something unreal about this place for Justin. Urban life is what is normal - being inside this huge canopy created by the natural world, and then a hidden hollow within that, makes him think of fairytales, and of dreams. It is no help in his attempt to get a grip on the reality of this situation. Now, he is looking at his life from a distance, and simply no longer knows what it is, or what a Justin Benchley does. Sharkey reasserts some basic realities. He spreads a blanket like they're out for a picnic. Then he has Justin strip down and spread himself out on it. And then Sharkey gets naked, looking pretty ripped because he's been working out like crazy lately as he tries to take his mind off Justin. Then Justin feels himself pinned down by this powerful man's body. He is ravished, truthfully that's the word for it, by Sharkey. He is claimed by this man. He has not felt this in weeks. Used. Lusted after. Treated as an object of total, total beauty. And then there he is, in the woods, Justin Benchley sucking deep on Zac Sharkey's great cock. Offering himself up to Sharkey on that rumpled blanket. Asshole stuck out like an invite, Sharkey fingering his way in slowly, enjoying every moment, while a breeze caresses Justin's skin. Justin finding his face buried in the coarse folds of the blanket as Sharkey's cock burns its way into him - that's the way this pleasure feels, like fire. After Sharkey cums into him, deep in Justin's asshole, he isn't done. He starts kissing and fondling him again, and it isn't long before he's ready to go again. This time he has Justin suck on his cock some more, tells him how great he is at doing it, and spills his jizz, another thick and incredible load of it, all over Justin's sweet face. They return to the car and sit in there, still naked, for a while, panting with exertion. Sharkey takes a damp cloth and wipes the cum gently from Justin's face. It has been energetic, passionate. There's a brief, sated interim in which they chuckle, reclining against the headrest, holding hands loosely over the parking brake and letting the radio play again. "Not bad, kid," Sharkey smiles, "That wasn't bad at all" "It was... pretty good," Justin says, wanting to keep the good feeling. "I mean, I guess." Still holding his hand, clutching at it a little more tightly now, Sharkey smokes a cigarette, not something he ordinarily does, and says: "So, kid, have you thought about it?" Justin feels the world go still. Then he takes a breath, launches into his answer. There's a sense almost of blacking out after that, detaching from himself. But he knows afterwards that he has said no. He has done it. He has refused Sharkey's offer. And he is aware that Sharkey has taken it pretty well. He has kept hold of Justin's hand. Nodded. Looked away for a moment and said he understands. Justin has found himself offering to do just what Sharkey said when he first made the offer - continuing on as they are. Justin will go on offering his services to Sharkey, should Sharkey continue to want them. Soon after that, Sharkey suggests they get their clothes back on. Time to head back. They dress, and Sharkey hands Justin his money for today, a bunch of cash that Justin stuffs into the pockets of his jeans. There is no sense of anger or disappointment from Sharkey as they journey back towards town. Just as there had been no indication of any emotion from him that night he first made his offer, so he remains totally impassive as he drives now. None of the angry driving you get from some guys when they're frustrated. Justin feels kind of embarrassed now, even as he feels a sense of release. He sees that the offer Sharkey made really meant more to him than to Sharkey himself. Whereas for Justin it would have been a life-changing upheaval, for Sharkey it would just have been something that would have made his pleasures a little more convenient; he'd have had Justin on hand at home, rather than having to send out for him like Chinese food. Justin feels freed now, from the anxiety that has been gnawing at him for weeks. But it isn't a sense of relief exactly; indeed, he already feels pangs of regret at having had to refuse everything Sharkey was offering. Now that the possibility of escape from his life and his obligations has been taken away, old familiar worries are becoming real to him again. He still needs to work out how he will explain to Beth all the cash he's amassed. All of it hidden away in a fucking shoe box in his closet. He still faces his life sentence at that goddamn diner. It's not all peachy; but he doesn't have to wrestle with this dilemma any more. He knows what his life is again. Sharkey drops him a few blocks away from his home. Always a different drop-off point. Justin says "I'll see you next time, man" as he leaves the car, because he doesn't want to make this seem like a total rejection of Sharkey. Because he's a sweet kid. Sharkey nods with a slight smile, drives off. When Justin gets home, he finds himself totally drained of energy. Thankful his parents aren't around this evening, just the dog, he realises the big moment has finally passed. He's said no. He's a little sad to have done it, but is suddenly too exhausted to think about it any more. He takes a necessary shower to get the dirt and grass stains off his skin, scrubbing out his butthole that he imagines clogged with Sharkey's cum. Then it's time for an early night, and he sleeps like a baby. What Sharkey does that night, these scenes do not record. ----- For another couple of weeks, Justin's old life resumes. All the stuff Beth talks about becomes more real to him again now that he has definitively said no to any alternative. He starts to wonder if he will hear from Sharkey again. Maybe the guy is done with him now. Justin doesn't know how he feels about that - he's become so accustomed to that flow of money. Then again, if he really does follow through with this cover story to Beth about dealing drugs, he's going to have to say goodbye to that extra income anyway. Man, the thought of this huge lie he's going to have to tell and live with is too much to face right now. Now he's let go of his dilemma over Sharkey's offer, and persuaded himself once again that it was always, always out of the question, he figures he needs a little vacation from worry. He decides he's not going to think about trying to explain the money to Beth, at least not for another couple more months. Maybe if he takes his mind off it for a while, a better, easier idea will come to him. Perhaps there's some plausible way he could say he won a few thousand dollars, something it's not easy to check up on. When a text comes from Sharkey, suggesting a night they can meet, Justin is almost relieved. The money isn't going to dry up right away, and Sharkey can't be too angry at him. A little bit of wrangling follows as Justin can't make the date Sharkey suggests, but finally they set something up. It's on an evening when Beth is busy with the girls. He's lucky she's not one of those girlfriends that gets clingy. Once he's sure of the details, Justin deletes the messages, as always. He's taken aback, the next evening as he walks home from work, when another text bleeps into his phone, from a number he recognises, but never took the risk of saving. It says: hey sexy ass waiter!!!!!!!! u may just see a familiar face when ur at sharkys place nxt friday....... and mayB more than just see, know what i mean? ;-) xxx His heart thumps as he reads this. Laila Bayliss. That bitch who got him into all this, and then just disappeared like she'd never existed. He's tried not to think about her since that night she took him to so-called 'Sharkey's place' in DeMontley. He's pretty much figured out by now that she was always in on some plan of Sharkey's to snare him. He hasn't quite decided how far back it must go - it's too paranoid, surely, to think that she was in cahoots with Sharkey right from the beginning, when she first started coming into the diner. But maybe once she got to know Justin, she told Sharkey about him, and things snowballed from there. Whatever the case, there sure is something twisted about that girl. He remembers when he was a little smitten with her, real fucking minx she was, and reflects on how innocent he was back then. Terrified of going out for a drink with a girl in case it counted as cheating on his fiancee. Yet look at him now - still regularly meeting an older rich guy and getting paid for sex, and not really thinking anything of it. Justin is surprised to hear himself laugh. How far in he's gotten. It's fucking crazy. Feeling a little rush at the thought that he's going to see Laila Bayliss again, that it appears he's going to be able to fuck her - Sharkey must have invited her, must want to spice things up - he shoves his phone back in his pocket and breaks into a run. And from a parked car on the other side of the street, behind blacked-out windows, Sharkey watches and smiles. Justin's most paranoid guess was of course the right one. We've seen before that all messages he gets from 'Laila' are written by Sharkey himself. Not that there's any deception in it, not really. Justin's in for a reunion all right. Someone who's just dying to get better acquainted with him. Sharkey pulls off in his car. --------- To be continued