Alistair Coleman was sweating buckets. His knuckles were white from his tight grip on the steering wheel. His heart was pounding a thousand miles an hour in his chest, so hard he almost thought he was about to have a heart attack. He only wished that he would, that way he wouldn't have to face the music when he went inside. The guy was fish food, and he knew it, but there was no way out of this. So, Alistair Coleman straightened his tie, wiped his forehead with the back of his fist, and stepped out of his car and into the restaurant.
"Ehem, Darko party," he said to the matre d'.
"This way." the matre d' said flatly, leading the sweating man to the farthest booth in the restaurant, where his host, Mr. Darko, was already sitting, waiting for him.
"Al. Ya made it," the man greeted him with a smile, smoke from his cigarette seeping out from between his cracked lips, "Have a seat."
Trying his best to stop his shaking, Alistair sat across the table opposite from Mr. Darko, making sure as not to stare at the man or his scars.
"You know why I called you here?" Mr. Darko asked him, tapping the ash from the tip of his cigarette then drawing another drag.
"Y-yes," Alistair answered with a gulp, "I do."
"Sooo?" Mr. Darko drawled, "Where is it?"
"Well, the- the thing is," Alistair stammered, his thumbs wrestling together underneath the table, the sweat on his brow returning more profusely than before, "I can't pay you back; I just don't have the money."
"Yet!" he stammered on desperately when he could see Darko's eyes burning, "I don't have it yet, but I will! I just need a little more time!"
Mr. Darko blew his smoke directly into Alistair's face when he had said that. "You had plenty of time, Al," Darko hissed. He then cracked his neck, appearing to have calmed himself, or at least appearing to, then put his cigarette out into the table's surface and stood up from his seat. "I'll be seeing you later." he then said lowly, straightening the lapels of his jacket.
Mr. Darko then turned and began to walk straight towards the door. If Alistair didn't do something quick, he would be dead within the hour. He only had one other option.
"Wait!"
Darko stopped and peered back over his shoulder. "Don't waste my time more than ya already have Al," he sneered.
"I can offer you something."
"Oh? And what might that be?"
Alistair took a heavy breath before he could give his answer. "My son."
Mr. Darko's eyebrow raised, and he returned to his seat, crossing his arms over his chest. "I'm listening."
"My son," Alistair began, unfolding his wallet and taking out the photograph he had of his boy, "he's almost eighteen. He's a real good-looking kid, has girls and guys alike trailing after him, but I know for a fact he's still a virgin. And I know how you like the young ones. If you agree to give me an extension, he's all yours."
Alistair Coleman squeezed his eyes, ashamed with himself, and he slid the photo across the table. Darko snatched it up to have a look for himself if this kid would really be worth it. As soon as he saw the kid's face, his eyes lit up.
It was a school photo, showing just him from the shoulders up, but it was enough for him to see how beautiful the boy really was. Alistair said he was almost eighteen, but the kid could easily pass for sixteen or fifteen. His face contained perfectly smooth chiseled features, with a sharp angular jaw line, rosy pink lips, and dark hazel-colored eyes. His skin was pure white, while his hair was dark brown, almost black, and ran straight almost to his shoulders, with his bangs styled to go across his forehead.
Mr. Darko grinned up at Alistair, and extended his hand to shake.
"You got yerself a deal."
here it is, my modernized, humanized version of Beauty & The Beast, about a beautiful young boy and a scar-faced gangster who fall in love
i always wanted to write a humanized version of Beauty & the Beast, but i finally decided on this because of my own boyfriend whose face is scarred, so i decided to write it based on us :D 3
and i'm hoping me & him will be able to collaborate on this; i have a feeling he'll be able to describe the gangster's thoughts & feelings better than i can
enjoy reading, cuz i'll enjoy writing