Page 27 of Wreckin' Amethyst

Raspingmyknucklesonthe seedy motel door, I grimace at the overweight reception clerk who followed me up to the fourth level. Apparently, responding to his advances with a ‘get fucked’ seemed more like an invitation than a threat. Cleaning his ear with a little finger, the other hand dips beneath the stained vest barely containing his gut to swirl within his belly button. I throw up in my mouth as the door swings wide open, a hand at my wrist tugging me inside.

“Bucket. I need a bucket,” I cover my mouth, feeling the overwhelming shade of green creeping over my face. Sebby locks me inside, although I’m not sure if I feel any safer. Limp curtains hang over grimy windows, casting the room in a dull orange which isn’t helped or hindered by the bleak naked bulb above. The bedsheets are crumpled, clothes draped across the soiled carpet and as I turn to Sebby in just his boxers, I feel nauseous all over again.

“Dude seriously, what the fuck? I know I loathe extravagance but this,” I signal around the cramped room, “this is where self-respect comes to die amongst the mites.”

“It’s not easy being associated with Myles,” Sebby scowls. I’m so used to his calm, withdrawn nature, the strength of his emotion takes me by surprise. “We’re followed by paparazzi everywhere, always on the exposé channels. Whether with him or not, these are the lengths I must go to for some privacy.” Sebby angrily shoves his hair back from his forehead, his gray eyes glancing to another closed door. I didn’t hear it until now, too distracted by the contents of my stomach threatening to rise. Telltale thundering of a shower seeps beneath a two-inch gap at the base of the bathroom door. Sebby isn’t alone.

“Okay first off, breathe Seb.” Gripping his shoulders, I mock the type of repetitive pants a labor-class would demonstrate, until he copies. Hee-hee-hoo. Hee-hee-hoo. “Now – what the fuck am I doing in this shithole?”

“After Myles went to the bathroom during our shareholder meeting and didn’t return, Carter went looking for him. Owen had some business to attend to and I…sought out a gay bar across the more discrete side of the city.” Sebby clears his throat, allowing his black hair to fall forward into his eyes again. “I met someone and we came here.”

“Well, that makes complete sense,” I nod, looking at the dirty room once more. I get why he called me and not one of the others. “Just so I understand properly - in this cliché scenario of yours, are you role playing Jeffery Dahmer or the victim? I know a guy who can have a barrel of acid here in two hours.”

“I seriously hope you’re joking,” Panic bursts from Sebby’s eyes. I don’t respond. The shower shuts off and I shrug, mouthingit’s now or never.Dragging me across the room, Sebby points to a pair of discarded pants, keeping his voice low. “I was looking for another condom to…well you know, and I found this.” Nudging the pants with his foot, an ID catches the dim light.

Mitchell Huggan. Vlogger/Reporter for Inside Entertainment.

“Oh shit, it’s a snake in the grass issue,” I gasp. We are definitely the Jeffery Dahmer’s here. Sebby pulls on a shirt, hastily fastening the buttons over his tattoos. At some point, I’ll find a reasonable moment to admire the various caricatures I’ve spotted, but this doesn’t seem like it.

“I’m not sure yet. That’s why I need you to do that decipher voodoo thing you do. There’s always the chance he actually…likes me, right?” I watch him tug on his slacks, noting the complete lack of hope in his face. All I’m getting is fear. Fear at being deceived maybe, or the fear this guy might be risking his own career to hang with Sebby in secret and force my closet-ed friend into the decision he’s been avoiding. To tell Myles he loves him, or accept he might fall for someone else.

The toilet flushes, sending Sebby into full panic mode. Hands flapping and flustered whispers for me to hurry up. Inspecting the lanyard closer, I make swift judgments about this mystery man. First off, Sebby has excellent taste. Secondly, I would kill to have his natural eyebrows, but any further thoughts are halted by the bathroom door flying open. A mirror image of the photograph in my hand steps out from a wall of billowing steam, his tanned skin a natural contour to the valley of abs dipping into the towel he’s holding over his junk.

“Oh er…” Mitchell pauses, those defined eyebrows shouting upwards. “I didn’t realize you wanted to include someone else, Seb. I kinda thought it’d just be the two of us.”

“It is, I do – Ami was just dropping something off,” Sebby flashes a look at me to go along with his lie. Dropping the ID back on the crumpled pants, I nod in quick succession.

“Yeah, that’s right. I just came to give Seb this.” Grabbing his face in my hands, I plant my lips on his mouth and kiss the fuck out of that gorgeous gay man. Freezing beneath my hold, I’m left to do all the work – typical. My lips shift over his delightfully soft ones, one hand drifting south to give his crotch a squeeze.

“Trust me,” I whisper between his gasp and slipping my tongue into his mouth. On a lost sigh, Sebby obeys. His hands press against my back, closing the distance between us and returns my kiss with equal vigor.

“You bitch!” Mitchell screams. I push away from Sebby and duck, anticipating the loud crack of Mitchell’s slap. Sebby inhales sharply, holding his cheek as Mitchell flies around the room in a flurry to retrieve his clothes and exits in a fantastically dramatic whirlwind. A huge smile grows across my face.

“Well that was fun.” I shrug. Beneath his flop of black hair, Sebby has the shocked look of a deer caught in headlights. Refusing to release his reddening cheek, I reach for his suit jacket and drape it over his shoulders. “I still say we could have justified killing him for being a lying cheat.”

“So…he was using me for his job?”

“What? No.” I roll my eyes. Sebby really is clueless when it comes to this. “Mitchell genuinely liked you, or he wouldn’t have been sneaking around on his spouse to be here.” I understand not everyone has the knack for reading people like me, but it took three seconds to glance from the tiredness circling Mitchell’s eyes to the indent of his missing wedding ring. Surely at some point, Sebby could have noticed the same, although I’m guessing the dick was just too good.

“His partner could be aware of the lengths he’ll go to for a story,” Sebby tries to twist the truth again. Dropping on the edge of the bed, his head hangs low. I lower beneath his knees, preferring to crouch than touch any of the furniture.

“Believe what you want Seb, but that reaction was real. And I highly doubt he’ll expose himself as well as you. Now the real question is – what are you going to do about it? Chase him down and beg for forgiveness, or admit this was never really about Mitchell.” We share a knowing look.

“Fuck, what time is it? I need to be at the club opening,” Sebby distracts himself by looking all around and then settles back on me. More specifically, the baggy band t-shirt and torn jeans parting at my knees. “And you need a change of clothes.”

***

Given the type of establishment I now associate with Sebby, as the limo nears the ‘club’, I gape in awe. Not some seedy bar with a spunky, pink-haired bartender like I was imagining. But an impressive building with several levels, all fitted with black-out glass. Aptly named ‘Elysium’, beneath the swirly sign displaying its name, the grand entrance is guarded by imposing bronze statues of a Greek goddess. The limo pulls to a stop beside the red carpet, an entourage of press patiently waiting behind ropes and a wall of security guards either side. Not the attacking kind, but the type who are paid big bucks to get the best images for magazines. The type who understand a little flattery aids them far better than harassment.

“Would you mind?” Sebby looks across the bench and offers me his hand. I glance at it for a second, making no move to take it.

“If you’re sure it’s what you want…” I bite my inner cheek. “But the truth will come out sooner or later, and it would be best doing so by your own admission. You should be unapologetically yourself. Who cares what the rest of the world thinks?”

“Ironic considering the false identities you’ve adopted.” Sebby quips back. Touché. Taking his hand, our fingers are interlocked by the time he pops the door and helps me to my feet. Standing tall in a pair of stunning red heels, I'm almost the same height as a dashing Sebby. His smile is full of boyish charm, putting on a good show as we take our slow walk towards the open doors.

“Sebastian Lloyd! Who’s your date this evening?” a woman with a microphone calls out. Sebby is all too happy to guide me over, laying on years of perfected charisma while I smile innocently. Cameras flash from all directions, catching every angle of the attire Sebby picked out for us both prior to coming here.

From the back, my dress appears classy. Sophisticated, covering every inch of skin from neck to wrists and down to my ankles. The velvet material hugs my body, a hidden corset within accentuating my curves and doing wonders for my ass. Around the front though, the dress opens from my nape to my breasts, highlighted with a low sweetheart neckline. Over my right hip, the velvet gathers into a large, floppy bow where the leg slit reaches dangerously high. All black, all risqué. Apart from the sleek ponytail of my violet hair, the red heels and matching lipstick are the only pop of color. I have to say, Sebby has impeccable taste.

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