Gut Check
Cheryl and I rode on to the club in silence for a bit, but then she started talking a mile a minute about all this Beverly Hills bullshit I wasn't interested in. I made sure to nod, and mumble, "mmhmm" at the appropriate moments but I had my mind fixed on that moment with Brenda back in Brandon's driveway. Damn Brandon and Brenda. Walsh's parents must be straight out of a Brady Bunch episode. It didn't matter about the lettering. The name Brenda was running through my mind like a rollercoaster. I felt it all the way to my stomach. What the fuck was my deal? She was just a chick. She happened to be Walsh's sister so that means even if she did ever manage to be alerted to my existence it meant I can't do anything about it. At least not the kind of stuff I'd like to do about it.
I shook myself out of my thoughts as the ever exuberant Cheryl was asking me about something.
"So do you go to school with any celebrity kids?" she asked.
I managed to pull up to the club Floodlights just in time to not really bother answering.
"I wouldn't know, I don't really know what a celebrity is?" I answered shutting off the engine abruptly.
"You mean you don't care?" Cheryl asks dumbly.
"Now you're getting it." I smirk at her hard, in my way I know the girls like.
Cheryl seems to accept that. I jump out of the car without opening the door or shutting the hood. I made sure to hurry around, and open Cheryl's door for her because I'm not a total asshole.
I grab her hand as she gets out, and I can instantly tell I'm already doing too much. She's grinning at me like a lion let out of their cage, and I'm the prize piece of meat.
I pull my hand away, and I catch the look on her face as I do so. Where the hell was Walsh? Oh yeah dropping off that gorgeous sexy sweet little sister of his. Great.
Cheryl and I approach the club and I can tell she feels a bit self- conscious amidst the bevy of Los Angeles party girls in sparkly bustiers, mini-skirts cut practically to
their labia and hooker high knee boots. Cheryl did look a bit out place, but that was fine with me. Who would want to be from here? I'm embarrassed about it myself.
We walk up cooly to the big bouncer who works Floodlights. I leave him Brandon's name just in case he isn't inside yet. He knows me good from this pool hall I like to frequent, and as soon as he sees me he nods and parts the little velvet rope barrier for us, and just like that we're inside. No ids, no money exchanged. Just like that.
"Wow I've got to go out with you more often," Cheryl remarks clearly impressed.
I shrug. "It comes with knowing the scene around here," I remark.
" Wow McKay you really are from another world." Cheryl stares at me a little too proudly.
"So…you don't think Brandon is here yet do you?" I know he's not but I feel bad for Brandon by the way she keeps looking at me. Poor Walsh, doesn't know that his woman is ready to leap on the first dude ready to show her what she thinks is the "good life." I'm sure any kind of open wallet does it for her too.
"I love this song!" Cheryl exclaims dragging me out onto the dance floor.
Before I can protest she's bumping and grinding all over me, and honestly my body starts reacting because I'm mostly a dog. Cheryl is a wild dancer, and I see other dudes walking by eying her. They can take over for all I really care.
Before my mind can think of an excuse to make us stop dancing she drags me over to the bar and the bartender also knows me so we don't get carded, and although I know I shouldn't, I shoot one down. I honestly hate clubs, but this is how I deal with my discomforts in life. I drink and numb myself. It's all I'm good for.
Cheryl is like a kid let inside of a candy store as she thirstily downs her bright blue beverage like she never drank before. Then she gets another one, and drags me back onto the floor. I have more fun dancing with her now. I'm not drunk, but I know the alcohol's inside me, and I can tell she's already gone so we lose our inhibitions more. She starts doing her gyrations with her ass against my crotch but I turn her around because Walsh is my dude, and despite what an easy score she'd be, I could never do that to my best friend.
A fast song keeps playing but Cheryl and I wrap our arms around each other. We start swaying to the music, and grin although no one really made a joke.
"You know McKay maybe I'm already ready for the after party if you know what I mean," she remarks blandly.
She must think I live under a rock if she thinks I don't know what she means. "You know Brandon should be arriving soon." I remind her.
Cheryl shrugs and makes a face, and I wince inside for Walsh.
"I know I look like some boring Minnesota girl to you but you don't know what's underneath all this," she says quietly.
My eyes bug out a bit at her bluntness but I'm still not phased. I'm not into her like that. This whole thing was just a favor to Walsh that appears to have backfired badly. I also have a feeling that she means more than just her naked body is underneath all this. Walsh is in way over his head with this one.
I don't respond, and we just keep dancing. I look into her eyes though because it seems like she needs it.
"You want to tell me when you're done dancing."
I'm grateful to have our moment broken, but Brandon is in front of us now, and he looks pissed. He spouts out some shit at us about not leaving his name at the door. I did but Cheryl defends me a little too fiercely and then stalks away which I'm glad for.
As soon as she's gone I try to fill Walsh in on all he missed.
"Man she is wild!" I tell him pushing him aside.
"She is not!" Brandon grits his teeth at me.
"Well you must be on sensory overload or something," I mock him.
"Dylan you could probably go out with any girl in the school that you want, why are you hitting on my girlfriend?"
"What are you talking about?" I answer him surprised.
" Come on Dylan I know how you operate… Look at my nice car, let me buy you a drink, no let's just go in Brandon will find us-"
"That is not what happened!" I yell in his face cutting him off.
"It doesn't work with Cheryl, she's not into your car, she's not into your cash, and she's only into one guy!"
"You?" I ask him ready to laugh in his face. Who the hell does Minnesota think he is talking to me like this. The alcohol has made me calmer than I would normally be with some dude yelling in my face.
"That's right!" Brandon shouts like a mental case.
"Well then I think you both need to have a serious talk because as much as I hate to tell you this… your girlfriend hit on me tonight!"
My words soak in the air for what feels like a quiet moment despite the dance club around us, then Walsh's fist is flying at my face, and I fall backwards into a crowd of Los Angeles dip-shits.
It takes me a moment to process what happened, as I hold my face for a moment. Then I get up off the floor immediately and charge at him. I want to hit him back. Hit him because I thought he was my friend, hit him because he is completely clueless about the fact that it's his sister who has been driving me mad for weeks, and despite the fact that I thought he was the one person in school who wasn't a Beverly Hills zombie. I thought he was my best friend.
Instead of hitting him, I grab Walsh roughly by the collar and through gritted teeth I tell him, "You better figure out who your friends are..." I release his collar now and push him away like the little fuck he is.
I stalk out of the club, and hop in the Porsche without opening the door. Fuck Walsh, and his stupid girlfriend Cheryl. I pull away from Floodlights with my tires screeching. My face hurts, and I feel like driving my car into a wall. Who would miss me much anyway?
I drive through the LA streets, until I'm back in my neighborhood and wonder how everything can feel so pointless in a place that so many people dream of. Beverly Hills with all its sunny weather, Palm trees, and big houses felt like the edge of nowhere. I exist here, but I'm not alive. I'm burning but I'm nothing at the same time.
I pull into the Bel Age and hop out of the car. Time to go get the good stuff back at the suite. I'm going to get drunk out of my brains tonight. I stalk into the lobby, and head back up to the suite. I stop abruptly though when I see the little hell raiser herself standing outside my door. It's Cheryl. I can tell right away she's been crying.
"I asked the front desk which room you were in," she says awkwardly as I approach.
I never could resist a damsel in distress I guess. I'm not going to fuck her, but I'll let her hang out if she needs to.
I open the door to the suite, and before I can turn down her advances again, she runs to the bathroom, and I can hear her heaving her guts out.
I sit at the foot of my bed, waiting for Cheryl to get the hell out of my bathroom already. I also help myself to some Scotch from the liquor cabinet. Finally, the door bursts open and she's covering her mouth. Honestly the only puke I prefer in my bathroom is my own but whatever. She approaches me and sits next to me on the bed. She was in there for about a half hour and I'm pretty drunk now. My willpower is nil. I stare at the floor. I don't want anything to happen, but she's like some little nympho or something. She's Brandon's girlfriend though, and I still respect that despite the fact that he tried to kick my ass earlier.
Instead of making me a bigger asshole than I already am Cheryl speaks. "You don't know how horrible my life is."
I stare down at the hotel room carpet having a vague idea.
#
I wake up in my bed, but it feels more like I'm lying on a pile of nails. I drank until I was numb last night, and now every fiber of skin on my body feels like it's bruised. Maybe I was thrown off my balcony or Brandon finished me off. I cough, and immediately throw up over the side of the bed, then I fall off it and sit by my puke. My puke and I are regular companions these days.
Actually no that's not right. Even all the alcohol inside me is not enough anymore. I'm sure Brandon and I worked things out last night. I sort of remember I think. Cheryl was here and she hogged my bathroom most of the night. Then Brandon came in and we had some words. I let him know she wasn't into me. Brandon and I came to a truce, and then I let him and Cheryl talk in the suite for a while. When I came back to the room after drinking on the roof I remember seeing melting bowls of ice cream all over the coffee tables. The melted ice cream memories turn into globs of molten lava inside my brain. I lean my head back against the wall and then I bang it a few times.
"You fucking drunk!" I yell at myself. The words seem to echo off the walls all the way to nowhere.
#
Hours or maybe a day later, who the hell really knows anymore, Stacy from West Bev is riding me like that mechanical bull at that shit-hole place on Sunset Blvd I can't remember the name of right now. Who can remember anything when you're getting fucked as hard as Stacy fucks. It feels good but not good enough. Nothing does these days.
"Oh my god McKay," Stacy yells out as she collapses on top of me a sweaty sticky mess. I lose it at the same time, and in moments everything turns back into the dark gray world that sex only temporarily alleviates.
Stacy lifts her head up after a moment from my chest and starts smiling at me hard and then laughing. I laugh too. Pretty soon we're in hysterics and we fall off the bed together laughing like two deranged assholes.
She eyes me like she's already for another go 'round and then she digs in her bag on the floor and pulls out a small vile filled with powder. In about three seconds most of it goes up her nose then she hands me the vile. I take it in my hand and turn it up and down in my fingers, watching the powder fall back and forth in the artificial light of the room. I'm not really in the mood, but up my nose it goes too, because why not?
Stacy crawls across the floor now, and straddles me. Yup definitely ready for round, I lost count now. Before we can get it going though there's a hard pounding on the suite door coming from the living room. It's loud and obnoxious. Enough so that I lose my hard on.
My lips part from Stacy's, who is giggling and oblivious like a manic mental patient.
The pounding gets louder.
"Better get that," I mumble to Stacy, although I don't think she even heard me as happy as she is.
I release Stacy to the carpet and she rolls over a sea of fleshy skin, perky tits, and flaming red hair. I pull some sweats on, but forget the shirt. I don't like the sound of the knocking. The hotel staff who know me like furniture never bang on the door this hard.
I check out the peephole, and I see some dude in a jet black suit. I feel my pulse start to quicken. I don't know if it's the coke or if I'm actually scared. Dudes in suits are never a good thing around here.
Tentatively, I undo the locks and open the door a crack.
"Hey, I'm Henry, a friend of your dads," a middle aged man greets me all business.
"I don't know any Henry-" I start but before I can get any further, like a bolt of lightning Henry throws his arm and pushes the door open wider and then I'm outside in the hall, and he's punching me hard in the gut. This is the second time in I think 48 hours I've been punched. The wind is knocked out of me, as I crumple to the floor like a little bitch.
Henry pulls me up instantly and straightens me out so I'm sitting up on the floor with my knees curled against my chest.
"What the hell is this," I mumble out trying to catch a breath.
"We've been trying to reach you kid, your father has been trying to reach you but for some reason the phone kept going to voicemail. Have you checked any of those voicemails yet?"
The hurt, disgust and shock overwhelms me in moments. Did my father actually send one of his goons over here to beat up his own son? Maybe I shouldn't be too surprised at this point. Still, it's a new low even for him.
"No," I spit out on the floor. I try to get up but Henry the psychopath pushes me back down.
I vaguely remember hearing the phone last night while I was fucking, and getting drunk and high with Stacy, but who knows. I think an elephant could have been tramping through the suite and I wouldn't have noticed.
"You should make sure to check your messages kid. It's very important, when millions of dollars are at stake."
"Did Jack send you?" I garble out
"Yeah he did kid, but the punch he didn't order. That was courtesy of me. So don't take it out on your old man next time you see him."
"Next time…" I never know with Jack if there is a next time. I don't honestly care anymore.
"Yeah your old man will be back soon, and he wanted me to give you this."
Henry places a perfectly folded note in my hands.
I look him in the eye, and know I'm due another punch if I don't open it. Wincing in pain, as I shift against the wall I open it. Inside all it reads is
VERY IMPORTANT
Dylan don't forget to be at the SunTrust Bank Vault at noon on the 27th!
Jack
I stare at the words on the paper wondering why I was so unlucky in this universe to have a father like Jack. Most dads annoy their sons about how to make the football team, or what kind of motor oil they should be using in their cars. Mine nags me about meeting at creepy bank vaults to do illegal activity for him and his slime ball mobster friends.
"He already told me this," I tell Henry preparing for another punch.
Instead, Henry makes me want to punch him now because he runs his hands over my hair like I'm a pet dog.
"We know kid, we just don't want you to forget."
I swallow hard. I can feel my chin starting to quiver from fear, or maybe the alcohol or drugs.
"Tell Jack I got the message…" I say softly crumpling the paper a little in my hand.
Henry runs his hands over my hair again. "Good boy, any son of Jacks…" he says in this calm but eerily threatening tone.
Henry doesn't bother to finish his sentence. Instead he back away now, straightens his coat and walks off.
As soon as he's out of site, I manage to inhale a deep breath and run my trembling hands over my face. I glance up in the corner of the hall where I know the Bel Age keeps a video camera, but unsurprisingly it's not there anymore.
Note for my readers!
Thank you to everyone who messaged me and asked for more. I'm so sorry it took so long. Sometimes a lot of pressures present themselves in life, but writing is everything to me so I could never forget about this story or Dylan!
Still more to come and I've been working on lots of ideas about where I want this to go. This story follows the timeline of season 1 but will take us into Dylan's mind and life as he meets the Walsh's.
I hope you'll stick along for the ride, and I apologize for the long delay. I still can't believe it's almost been a year since we lost Luke. I started writing this story when he was still here, and I will finish it as my tribute to him.
Please keep reading and reviewing!
It's only going to get more mad, bad and dangerous!