Page 22 of Tied

Chris

Hanging up with Julia, I wait for the inevitability of the police as I contemplate my predicament.

Yep. Fucked.

Why couldn’t I be a regular, run-of-the-mill, heterosexual man that liked women and tits? Nah. I couldn’t. It had to be men, and men that liked to give me a good pounding. Now I’ll pay for that adoration.

With a heavy knock at the door, I rise from my seat at the sunrise of my new life. Looking through the peephole, I find someone I wasn’t expecting.

“Open the door, son.”

As the cracked material creaks, I take in the older Texan. He’s dressed and ready for the day—gun holster and all.

“No guns drawn today, okay, Tex?”

He pushes his way past me. “No promises, kid. But I’ll try to only wing ’em.”

“Better than I’d hoped for.” As I’m shutting the door, a heavy hand stops me.

“Let us in too.”

Pulling it back, I say sarcastically, “Great. You’re all here.”

“Just good ol’ fashioned friends to help.” Allowing Fester to muscle his way through with Galen in tow, I shake my head.

“Don’t look at me.” Galen yawns, wiping the sleep from his eyes. “They came n’ woke me up. Don’t even think the hangover started yet.” Yawning again and cracking his neck, Galen heads straight for the minibar. Pulling out a bottle of orange juice, he guzzles it down as I take in his appearance. I think he’s right. He’s still working on the drunk part.

“So did you do as I said?” Bullet asks.

“Yeah, I got that covered. Now I’m just waiting on the attorney. She should be here any minute.” I look at my watch. It’s been over an hour since I talked to her. Julia mentioned she lives just around the corner. As the door pops open, in saunters the woman in question. “And she’s here.”

Taking in the room and looking at its inhabitants, Julia quirks her head side to side. “Needed to round out the gang, did we? Couldn’t just go for one hot mess, figured you’d add in a joke.”

Slightly taken aback by her comment, I guess my confusion is written. “One night at a bar, there was a Texan, two southern Baptists, a gay black military --”

“Ex-Military,” I correct.

“Sorry. Ex-Military gay black man, and a jackass photog who needed to fuck his way to a story. See? Great joke in the making.” Placing her oversized, this year’s Louis Vuitton on the table, Julia starts pulling out paperwork. “So listen, I need to get a full rundown, start to finish. Nothing missing. From the moment that sleaze ball found you in Dangereux to the moment you redecorated the hotel. And you fine gentlemen, if you’re sticking around, might as well be useful.” Turning from Fester and Bullet, she looks at Galen, sipping his orange juice. “Except you. Go to sleep, you’re still drunk.”

Throwing his hands in the air, “See! I told you,” Galen states placing his cup on the nightstand and curling into the covers. Within minutes Galen is snoring away.

For the next twenty minutes, Julia gives me a rundown of what to do and what not to say. Running down every detail—except for those details—she listens intently. That was until the knock on the door.

That’s when we all shut the fuck up.

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