Bottomless Pit
Charles Bing sat at his desk on a Sunday afternoon, guzzling mugs of coffee and poring through piles of paperwork from the Oval Office. From the corner of his eyes, Charles saw the maid hovering around him, looking worried and hesitant.
"Annette, if there's something you need to ask, spit it out," he snapped, distracted by her presence.
The maid whispered, "Sir, there's a strange man standing at the gate asking for you."
Charles waved his hand dismissively, "What, another homeless guy? You know the drill, pass him a fiver and send him on his way."
Annette glanced around the mansion, making sure Nora and Chandler were out of earshot. Charles raised his eyebrows questioningly.
"What is it, Annette?" he barked.
She leaned in confidentially, "This isn't a regular homeless man, sir. He says he's got something on you that'll destroy your political career."
Charles felt his chest tighten. There was but one secret he kept in his life, but what a secret it was. Charles gripped Annette's hand tightly. She jumped up, startled by her boss's sudden intensity.
"Annette, look at me," he ordered. Annette's downcast eyes flitted up to her boss.
"I'm going to talk to this man, see what he wants. I need you to do everything within your power to ensure my wife and son know nothing about the presence of this man. Can I count on you to do that?"
"Yes sir," she gulped, hurrying away.
Chandler sat in the dining room having lunch by himself. A tiny boy seated alone at a gigantic deserted mahogany table. It was a poignant sight. Wealthy as he was, no amount of money could make up for the obvious loneliness the child felt, what with a mother drifting from party to party, and a father absorbed in political ambitions.
"Annie, you wanna hear a joke?" Chandler asked in between mouthfuls of cheesy macaroni with cut-up hotdogs. Annette took Chandler's tiny hand, tugging the child upstairs.
"We need to go upstairs, Chandler. Your father needs his privacy. Bring your lunch with you."
Chandler grinned, "Oh Cool! I get to eat upstairs? Mummy's gonna be so mad!" he sang with devilish delight. "So, wanna hear my joke? It's a Yo Mama so Fat joke that I made up myself!" the tiny boy announced proudly.
Watching the maid lead his son away, Charles to his feet shakily, adrenaline shooting through him. Taking a deep breath, he forced himself to calm down and prepare for the worst. Who stood at his doorstep ready to take him down? He'd find out soon enough. Slipping his cheque book into his pocket, he prepared to draw up a hefty cheque, if it was necessary to make the problem disappear.
Frank stood at the gate waiting. He peered at the magnificent property, his eyes narrowing with envy. A large stone walkway paved the entrance to a grand mansion with Grecian pillars. Carved bushes lined the gates. A lush expanse of clean green lawn stretched outwards, framing the mansion beautifully. In the center of the lawn, was an alabaster fountain. Italian, with chubby white cherubs spitting water. Tiny sparrows stopped at the fountain, dipping their beaks in the still water.
A cynical bark of laughter escaped Frank's lips, "Pretentious Fuck."
Frank straightened out, when he saw a chubby man in a navy bathrobe and crème bedroom slippers march towards him. Frank felt panic rise from within himself. He ran through the script he had planned in his head, mouthing the words silently to himself. Charles stood inches away from the scraggly unkempt unshaven waif standing outside his gate. He stared down at Frank, his lips curling with distaste. Frank cowed under the politician's icy blue stare.
"I'm told, you seek to extort me," Charles said coldly.
Frank tugged at his tangled beard nervously, "I-uh... I have… um f-footage of y-your affair, of you with your um… the Bell Boy, kissing… from a security tape. I need… $500,000 to k-keep your secret," Frank stuttered.
Dammit, this was not how Frank planned the speech in his head. He'd meant to sound intimidating and sophisticated, like the loan sharks who threatened his ex-wife on a daily basis. Not like some bumbling fool. Charles's scrutinised Frank closely, his eyes lighting up with recognition.
"I've seen you before, you're always hanging around the casino, gambling your life savings away."
Frank felt caught out and exposed, "That's none of your business," he muttered defensively.
Charles smiled mirthlessly, "You're not squeezing a dime out of me."
Frank's eyes widened with surprise. He hadn't expected the politician to put up a fight, "B-but um… surely you don't want the world t-to know you're um… gay," he threatened weakly.
Slotting his hand through the gate, Charles grasped Frank's shirt, pulling him roughly against the gate. Frank winced as his body slammed against the gate.
"If it were any other bastard asking for money, I'd give it to him. But I've seen you, every minute of every day pillaging your money at the casino. Gamblers are the worst kind of extortionist. A Bottomless Pit!"
Frank struggled to escape Charles's grasp, "W-what are y-you talking about, b-bottomless pit?" Charles leaned in, speaking in a barely audible whisper.
"Today you ask for $500,000. You'll go to the casino and gamble it away. You'll turn up tomorrow asking for another $500,000. You'll gamble that away, and come back for more, more, more! I'll never be free of you. No amount of money can ever appease a Gambling Addict."
Frank gulped. Alas it was true. He knew himself well enough to foresee that the second he got his hands on a cheque, he would turn it into colourful plastic chips. Charles could physically remove the footage off Frank's possession, but what idiotic extortionist didn't make copies? Frank for one, had an immesurable stash of copies in his hard drives, USBs and various email inboxes.
Charles released his grip on Frank's shirt, "I've no choice but to call your bluff, since I know paying you won't solve my problem."
Charles turned on his heel, leaving Frank standing alone on the street, his pockets completely empty.