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Chapter 5.
Mrs. Chang's getting it on with Hugo. But for Miles all that serious date primping was for nothing, girl's zonked out cold . Miles is caught between doing the right thing or acting the pig. Someone walks in and some seriously senseless violence ensues. Poor Miles. It doesn't appear as if he will get laid anytime soon.
Mission Interrupted
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Miles is no gentleman. For sure. But he isn't a downright doochbag. He sneaks a brisk little peak. Yeah. Surely he deserves that much. Fucked–up date debacle and all. Getting all dolled up in Daniel's threadbare vintage haute couture. For a zonked out, stinking princess, snoring it up like Babe the pig. Yup. He has earned the right.
Mm-hum.
Not bad. Freckles on her chest. A light splatter of tiny little dots right down to the cleft between her rather small boobs. Very deserving of some indecent exposure.
Cute.
Oh snap out of it! He is so screwed, there are not even words for it. His hand whisks out on its own initiative. Freakishly independent, like something from the Addams' Family. Suspended inches away from her. Get a grip Miles! - She is practically pickled in booze. And what's the game in getting to second base if the other player is downright incapacitated? He is no gentleman but he isn't that much of a low-life hog either.
And just as he reaches down, intending to cover her up with her overalls - an all out infernal pandemonium breaks loose.
Out of nowhere, some maniac pounces on him. Someone of considerable bulk and strength. Like a rabid bat out of hell in a full-blown assault. Bone-hard knuckles that pound on him, in blind uncoordinated onslaught. Miles can only squeak:
" Stop, stop it, stop it, stop it! " Frightened now, trying to shield his face from further attack from his assailant with both of his arms.
"Stop it you big crazy oaf!" he screeches in a voice that he isn't proud of.
The unidentified clodhopping goon manages to get a good one in – right smack in the middle of Miles' already bruised face. A nauseating crunch across his schnoz and he just knows that he won't be a pretty sight tomorrow. He has time to think that Daniel will be heartbroken if he gets blood all over the precious suit. As they grapple, they both topple over across Kate's legs, Miles face down with his attacker on top. Ugh. Beasty-boy catches him in a chokehold, pressing his head down like a piece of dough into the couch. Between Kate's - lets be honest - less than heavenly fragrant naked feet. She doesn't even stir in all the commotion. Out cold – she must have downed an entire bottle of moonshine. He can feel the freak's heavy huffing and puffing tickling his neck. Mustn't upset him. Wants to live.
" What the fuck is wrong with you?! Get off me – you moron!" His own wheezing voice is muffled by the pea-green sofa fabric and doesn't sound nearly as assertive as he had intended.
" Miles?" pants a bewildered bigfoot, blowing out his breath so fast that Miles feels the hair on the back of his head lift upwards. Hyperventilating like a whale on dry land. Miles being the poor accosted land in this figure of speech.
" Get off me LaFleure! Unless this is you getting off on me for fucks sake!" he yelps into the sofa, getting pieces of green lint up his gums as he attempts to speak.
It takes a moment before James comes out of his mental paralysis and he slowly, sluggishly lets go of Miles' nearly decapitated neck. As he unclasps the throttle-grip-of-death, he quickly shifts to make a tight fist around Miles blanket-sized tie and pulls him up in a semi-sitting position. Face to face. Man to man.
" What the hell you doin' molestin' a dipsotose woman!? You - you nutcake!" A gust of air hits Miles face in the wind speed of James' anger as he spits out the words.
Miles feels his windpipes tightening under James' conversion of the tie into a noose. He gesticulates in wild panic pointing at his poor neck and he is nearly well and done asphyxiated when James seems to come too and blinks a bit stupidly as he lets go of his clasp. He pats the large flap of fabric down with an absentminded fatherly reassurance.
As he straightens up, he shoves his straw colored hair away from his forehead and flips it backwards, in his usual cocky, albeit somewhat bewildered, gesture.
Miles' hand reaches up to his throat where moments earlier James' paws have made a mark. Will wear a turtleneck tomorrow. Wonders if it will look weird in the heat? Both eyes are almost swollen shut. Poetic justice he guesses, now himself on the receiving end. But not quite the same. She's not Jimmyboy's frigging mom.
James silently ogles the revolting man in front of him – seemingly taking it all in. Eyes narrowed in deep contemplation of Miles battered physique clad in clothes seemingly accursed with syphilis. He scans him slowly from top to bottom. Not quite sure what to make of it. He bites his bottom lip in apparent amusement as he finalizes his scrutinizing once-over with his conclusion:
"My, my -…. big mother-fucking-ass of a tie, Mao!" he leers in pretended fear. Eyes round in mock trepidation as he fakes a tremble with his entire body.
" Woooo, scareeey…"
" Yeah, yeah, hilarious," Miles deflects dryly as he suddenly realizes the ramifications of taking fashion advice from the deluded savant and his Korean sidekick. And a sudden relief washes over him. Kate's decision to crawl into the bottle has saved his sorry behind from a more devastating humiliation than death.
What the heck was he thinking?!
James leans his head to the side, seemingly in deep thought. Scheming slyness and cheekiness written all over his despicably handsome features. Miles shivers as he sees the beginning of dimples forming. Crap, that asshole will make him eat this – for eternity.
" Sooo…What's up with all the pimpin' chichi-ness?"
Miles doesn't deign him with an answer. Just mopes sullenly as James' silly mug breaks up into the widest of possible grins, all teasing cruelness and evil amusement:
"You look hoochie as hell man!"
To add insult, he throws himself straight into a little limbo dance, al' improviso', feet placed wide, head thrown backwards in the air and both hands in exaggerated peace signs, laughing rather too loudly, too demeaning, swinging his ass left and right.
" Groooovey man. Wuhuu. Peace out brother!" he hoots, having a swell old time. Extremely pleased with himself, he chuckles while he attempts to get a hold of himself. He manages to extricate himself from his funky move and quickly gets back to business.
Bah, this is getting boring.
Miles shifts uneasily as LaFleure gets back to eye-squinting and re-enacting the serious, authoritarian, Big Bad Head of Security role. Miles doesn't know how to react. So he sulks. First, the big ass has the gall to beat him to a pulp. On top of that the making fun of the suit and entertaining himself royally on Miles expense. It is just not on!
" What the hell do you think you're doing? Kate of all the Dharma chicks – ya nitwit!"
" What's it to you? - Jealous?"
It is a struggle to see anything at all, the result of James' vicious craftsmanship swelling up much faster than Hugo's did. There's doubtlessly some sting in that ape's fists but the taunting hurts a hell of a lot more.
" Just answer - what the fuck are you doing here - taking advantage of a juiced up, half-dead woman. Only thing you can get your hands on!?"
" Mmimomumem", some mumbo jumbo nonsense comes from the depth of the sofa accompanied by a gust of alcohol.
They both look over at the snoring, drooling excuse for a woman.
Aaaw. She is a bit of a babe even with saliva on her chin.
James watches from Miles to Kate and back to Miles, seemingly in slow motion. Then suddenly with a quick jerky movement, James springs to action and briskly tugs at the overalls to cover the disgustingly inebriated Kate up. She must be so far gone not to have woken up during all of the ruckus. Completely over the top; tanked-out-drunk.
Not a bad rack though, Miles reminiscences.
" Hey, eyes straight forward, you skinny-ass scumbag of a perv!"
" Wasn't looking." Miles' split bottom lip extruding in a childish, petulant pout.
" So what's with the orphan-molester debauchee-suit? Some kind of disguise on your nightly peeping-pervie-prowls? You sick son of a bitch!"
Miles glowers back as best he can with eyes increasingly buried in toad-like swelling fat-folds. It isn't easy. More a matter of trying to meekly (peep, no sorry…) peer out than any actually proper, dignified glaring.
" Not that it 's any of your business – but - we had a date."
James watches Miles in complete and utter incredulity, gets himself caught in a bizarrely skeptical giggle that sounds more like hick-ups and frankly quite ridiculous on a grown man.
" Aha - I see- Kate is as drunk as a skunk; passed out in her dirty old work clothes. She must have really thought this date somethin'-somethin'!" James jeers at him in a cutesy sing-song voice, with ill-concealed glee. It is too great of an opportunity to get one over Miles – James just can't let that one go by.
" Yeah, yeah. You can gloat all you want". Miles mutters. After all, he is the boss. Mustn't piss off the boss. Long arm of the law and all.
" Oh, ah, I get it! I get the lure buddy. - This must really be your kind of dream date, mister-talks-to –dead-people! Right?" James' exaggerated drawl is unbearable chaffing. Sharp nails on a blackboard. Hawhawhaw.
" She isn't dead."
" Well, she damn well ain't much alive. She practically got rigor mortis," he shrugs as he tilts his head and raises his eyebrows, and fires off a wolfish smirk.
" You don't even know what that means you thick hick." He hates him.
" Might be simple but ain't that dim, Djengis."
Miles breaks the surly eye contact and clambers back up from his punched out position on the sofa. Moving Kate's (honest to god; stinking) feet to the side he sits up properly while throwing one quick painful gaze down the direction of her face. Absentmindedly he finds himself gawking at the passive provocateur and sole source of his current miseries. Dude, that chick really can't hold her drink for shit.
James doesn't miss a trick. He follows Miles lingering glance at Kate's passed-out pissed-out-of-her-mind face. It's like witnessing some kind of circus freak-show. James' mind boggles over the transformation as he watches Mile's hostile over-the-top grumpiness, replaced momentarily by icky blossoming goo-gooness. Ha! Confirmation complete. A sly smile sprouts on James' smug good-old-boy features.
Oh, yes. He's been totally had - the poor miserable dumb-ass!
" Aaaw - ya poor dog. You're so the smitten kitten!"
Miles makes a big show out of shrugging it off, trying to pull off looking properly arrogant and unaffected. Uh-hu, no way. He is not giving that asshole one more crumb to badger him with. The redneck is like a blood-hound who has picked up on a trail. Hot on his heels. Miles has to beat him off, if not literally then well, yeah….
" Just looking to get laid." Miles is as blasé as they come. As aloof and cavalier as the throbbing puffiness of his face allows.
It is frigging difficult to look arrogant when your eyes feel like two bloated hot soufflés.
James has got his teeth in and won't let go. The entire man practically sparkles with wicked amusement as he pokes Miles with another sharp stick:
" Nope, nup, nix – sorry, I ain't picturing that buddy-boy. Just ain't never gonna happen."
Conceited ass! But Miles isn't a complete idiot. He knows what this is. He spots a minute, tiny, microscopic trace of something in James' seemingly confident eyes. He can't help smiling himself as he realizes that he has uncovered a quiver of jealousy, alive and kicking at the very core of Mr. tough-guy. Kate and Miles.
Ha-ha. Didn't see that one coming huh? Not in a million fricking years!
The delight lifts him up high and his brain stops functioning. Can't pull a fast one on James. He knows this. He fucking knows this and still the verbal diarrhea is unstoppable. The words spill out of him, with as much bad-assness as he can muster under James' scrutinizing eyes:
" She seems easy enough Jimbo. I mean - she even screwed you - from what I've heard. Bear cage right? Cheesy, dude …."
U-hu…
Miles regrets the words as soon as they dribble down his stupid lips. James' nostrils flare up, madder than a bull with his balls tied up. Bristles risen in attack-mode - froth at the mouth.
" What a crock of shit!" He growls as he shoves his face up against Miles'. He smells beer and testosterone. And lavender. Hah, Juliet's soft touch. He isn't half as tough as he seems. Still, it is kind of unnerving to have a pit-bull terrier foaming at the mouth – even one that smells like your granny.
" Lemme' catch ya agin with her and I - will - kill – ya - you goddamn deviant!"
Miles does consider this. He really does. It is either having a sizzling crazed LaFleure blowing fire at his sorry ass the rest of his living days here on the island or …well, agree with him. He acts all meek and nods slowly. Sincere, pretended agreement. Yes sir, yes sirey, Mr. Jimmy-boy. The exaggerated Southerness in James' enunciation is enough to scare the freaking nancy-pants of him. Luckily the velvet trousers fit quite snuggly around his frightened little Encino-tush.
" Sure thing boss," he parries, trying to keep the alarm out of his voice. Shit, he really got more than he bargained for. He almost salutes the deranged southerner. Feeling like a boy scout caught with his pants down. At least he got a first hand preview of her boobies out of it. But hell,…hell no!
Fuck Kate. It isn't bloody worth it!
LaFleure goes on and on – threatening, swearing and threatening some again, but Miles has effectively zoomed out.
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" I ain't telling ya agin! Sounds like he is finally finalizing the bla-bla-blah speech. And with that, he calms down slightly, straightens up his stance and seems to give Miles a charitable look for the first time in the whole chain of events. Unfortunately this perceived sympathy sets off a flood-wave of self-absorbed moaning and an abundance of self-pity.
"Damn man. Dude, I don't have unrealistically high expectations" he whines feeling supremely sorry for himself. "But it would have been just fucking great to have one – just one- stupid date with someone who is not 30 years older with tits that you can fold like pancakes or somebody who is not fooped out of her fucking mind." Miles can't help the griping. He hasn't felt this big of a fuck-up for ages. And that it would turn out like this with her, it just plain sucks.
" Dude – you get it right?"
" Yup, yeah. Totally man. Well yeah, we take what we can get. An' it was a good try an' all buddy" James nods vaguely at Jin's and Daniel's foul phlegm inducing garments.
"Though - a tad dodgy pal - dontcha' think?" He adds after a bit of reconsideration.
Miles lifts his fingers to his bludgeoned face, carefully checking the extent of the damage. Eeek, feels like gelatinised mush. Must get some ice on it. Will never look the same. He wipes the bloody grume from his still oozing nose on Jin's tie. Ridiculously grateful that he was practically forced to wear it after all. It came in handy.
The look on James' face as he stares pointedly at the noose-wiping action freaks Miles out. James' voice is not entirely devoid of compassion as he takes in the casualty of his own handiwork:
" Well, well, well…. Dim Sum, don't you look like chimpanzee's ass my friend?"
" Well' yeah, that's what happens when everybody finds it fit to clobber you"
" What d'ya mean – everybody? Who else? - Kate?" James is suddenly equipped with a grotesquely hopeful little crooked half grin.
" Hah, she made quite a dent in you huh? Can't have been all my doing chump. Only punched you once….maybe twice but that's not all my doing, that - I mean that – mess." His finger wavers in the vicinity of Miles' desecrated nose and two perfectly symmetric shiners and he scrunches his whole face in ill-contained disgust.
"Hugo,…" Miles sighs in place of a proper answer and gesticulates vaguely towards his puffy rainbow-colored right eye ." And you, you prick!" he adds quietly as he sloppily indicates his bunged up nose and the swollen shut left eye.
" Hugo,… yeah right!? That boy is meek as a kitten. What did ya do to piss him off?"
Miles blood starts simmering to a boil as he remembers the sight of chubby and the beautiful young rosy-cheeked version of his mom as they fell out of the boathouse all flushed with giggling lovey-doveyness. His voice climbs to the brink of breaking, reminiscent of his teenage years. He doesn't care. Doesn't care. The anger is over him like a tsunami.
" What – did - I - do!?"
He is genuinely upset and hurt. It all is fucking unfair!
" Ask that giant mother-fucking (literally) adulterer what he is doing banging Mrs. Chang! In the mother-fucking boathouse!"
James, just stares at him. The air in Kate's stuffy living room stands still for a moment. The next second he explodes in one big snorting hoopla-ha of a laughter. He laughs so hard that he falls back on the sofa, across Kate's legs. She whines a bit in her sleep, tries to kick him off but goes right back to the snoring and the drooling. The chortling is so violent that he has to gasp for air, face; tomato red and glowing from the hilarity of it all as he tries to crawl up in a standing position
" Yeah, yeah . Good one!" he manages to squeeze out in between the sniggering and the hee-haw. " Oh my. Sweet jayzuss, you're cracking me up some – Hugo – Mrs. Chang! Your are so damn sick man!"
Miles lets the giggling attack ebb out. He sticks his potato shaped beak in the air while regarding James' undignified puerile behavior with pure contempt.
" So, now; Fifi La Fou, explain to daddy why do you have your panties in a bunch about this?" James heaves as he wipes the tears from his eyes with the back of his hands. Big soppy wet droplets splattering like tropical rain.
Miles, having regained his composure, clinches his teeth in a jaw-breaking attempt to stay cool. He is slick with indignation.
" Mrs. Chang - is my mother."
The excessive jolliness evaporates in a loud sucking swoosh. At first, the big security head only gapes dumbly. His baby blues wide open like a deer in headlights.
" Well, that ain't right I tell ya!" he gnarls as his chops sets in what Miles recognizes as a dangerous warning sign.
" Now it's time for you to vamoose little fellow. I will take care of this. It ain't right and Hobo the Humpin' slobo could endanger all of us here with his dallying with the Changs. She has a baby for crying out loud!"
" Yeah, I know she has a baby. – Me!" Miles points a miffed finger towards his disgruntled claret-colored chest as he claws his way off the sofa corner. He gives Kate's crummy feet a little affectionate good-bye and thanks for the boob-peak-pat and staggeringly gets to his feet.
"You? Naw, nope, no way, njet, nix…. That cute little bugger ain't you. No way." James shakes his head so that his hair whips in his face. Miles feels strangely hurt at first. But then clear as daylight he witnesses how the wheels start turning in LaFleure's brain. The cogs lining up and falling into place – one by one. For all the smart-alecky attitude the Southerner possesses Miles knows him to irritatingly quick-witted. Within seconds he knows the Dharma head of security has a plan in place, all grim and daunting.
He literally shoos Miles the hell out of the house.
Now git! Get goin'! Skedaddle away from here kiddo'! I have big fish to fry – literally!" he mutters as he shoves Miles towards the door.
Finding himself moving faster than he is practically able to. He reaches for the handle for leverage. Better leave Jimmy-boy be. Jimmy-boy and his big Jimbo plan for Jumbo. It feels curiously satisfying to have made both of his problems LaFleur's problems. Both the vodka and motor-oil marinated girl on the sofa and that monstrous crumpet of a skirt-chaser.
Liberating. He feels a ton lighter.
"Night ya'all!" he hollers cheerfully in a mock southern accent as he makes his escape.
Reviews and feedback welcome, good and bad!
And sorry for all the swearing – I tend to get a bit carried away. Feedback if you want me to cool it off a bit.