Page 41 of Nightcrawler
To borrow a phrase from the author’s synopsis of the book…truly, this is the story of a young man whosediscoveryof adult life in all its gay…ity, and everything that brings along with it, can’t exactly be called art. In this reviewer’s opinion, there’s noartabout getting a cumshot in your eye. It’s just bad aim.
Bwahahaha.
Unfortunately for me, humble readers, this is a manual for brief sexual escapades between the hero of the author’s story, Jamison Richards, and a bunch of horny men. Not that the idea of being screwed by multiple partners is a problem for me if the mood suits, it’s just that the book lacks anything adjacent to art…
…unless you consider cream pies to be lurve.
As far as the young man finding the meaning of life, well, I guess if you’re looking for a book where a youngdude gets his cherry popped when he stumbles into a busy New York bathhouse, then this is the book for you. But if the idea of your first time is getting gang banged by towel-wearing grunters isn’t your thing, then I’d steer clear of it. In the opening scene, Jamison Richards talks his way into a bathhouse by blowing the attendant and then, starry-eyed, is led to the back where the real fun begins. I’ll leave the rest to your imagination, but I’ll just say here, I hope you have popcorn and several bottles of lube on hand for the festivities.
In conclusion, if the three days Jamison spends being a spunk receptacle can be considered timeless, then the author should be called Shakespeare.
I chuckled as I posted my review, wondering if somewhere out there a real man was reading my reviews and contemplating art.
Chapter Fourteen
MIGUEL
I would have hoped my day couldn’t get any stranger after being ambushed by Raven’s friends, and mine. But sure enough, as soon as I walked up to my floor and stepped through the fire door, I was met with my frowning landlord. He was standing in front of my door, knocking. When he heard footsteps, he turned and looked over at me. “What’s going on, Huerta? Are you going to pay your back rent?” Before I could reply, he went on. “I suppose it doesn’t matter. I’ll only take you to court and get a judgment but either way, you’re going to meet the sheriffs on the front lawn with all your stuff tomorrow.”
I frowned as I got a sick feeling in the pit of my stomach, threatening to bring up the delicious dessert I’d eaten an hour ago. “Tomorrow? I got a demand for the back rent yesterday. I have ten days.”
“That was before I met the delivery guy from Amazon traipsing up the stairs carrying a box of cat litter this morning,” he said, smiling nastily. “You know pets ain’t allowed in the building.” He pointed to the large box of litter I’d had delivered and regretted using the free delivery service I received rather than simply picking some up at the market.
“I didn’t know pets weren’t allowed in the building.”
“Well, it’s in your lease. No pets! No exceptions! Immediate eviction. I’ve already notified the sheriff’s office. They’ll be here bright and early to throw your ass out on the grass.”
There wasn’t any grass. The front lawn consisted of sparse, brown stalks sticking up through mud when it rained in the winter and dying quick when the hot sun of Hollywood summers hit. “I assume grass is a metaphor?”
The short, stocky man pointed a gnarled finger at my face. “You know what I’m saying, Huerta. You’re always late with the rent and now you got you a cat. Well, I’m sick and tired of it. I came here as a courtesy to give you time to get your shit out before the sheriffs get here. You should be thanking me.”
I wanted to scream. Everything I owned was in that crappy apartment and I had no place to put it. “Fine. I guess I have no choice in the matter, so I’ll move. Let me call some friends to help me get my stuff out.”
“I’ll be back around ten to make sure the unit is empty.” With that, he turned on a heel and walked back down the hall, oblivious to the destruction he’d just wreaked in my life.
Hopelessness flooded me but the moment I opened the door, Stanley came running across the floor toward me, meowing loudly. I couldn’t help but smile as I picked up the kitten and buried my face in his soft gray and white fur. I felt tears threatening but choked them back. I wasn’t going to cry over that guy but I needed to think on my feet. I started running scenarios through my mind. In twelve hours I was going to be homeless. What was I going to do with Stan? I nuzzled the purring furball for another two minutes and then sat heavily in one of the thrift store chairs at my kitchen table, looking around the room, doing inventory. The mattress was a mess, full of Raven’s blood and should be replaced, not that I had the fundsto do it. The rest of my furnishings were cheap crap I’d picked up here and there.
The only thing I owned of any real value was my footlocker which was pushed against the wall opposite the bed. Everything I genuinely cared about was packed inside. I didn’t have many clothes and no TV since I used my tablet for viewing my shows and reading. I pulled out my phone and hit speed dial. It rang twice before he picked up.
“Hey, buddy, what’s cookin’? I hope Raven’s okay,” Vonne said.
I smiled, feeling bad for burdening my friend with another problem. “Raven’s doing fine, Vonne. Actually, he’s great, but I have another problem, and honestly, I don’t know what to do about it.”
“Tell me.”
“I spent the morning at Raven’s place and then I had to get my truck from the tow yard and shit…it’s just been a rotten day all around.”
“It happens, my brother. What can I do? I’m at work but I can come over to your place after I get off at seven. You can tell me all about how you managed to get your truck towed, knucklehead.”
I hung my head, resting my cheek in my hand as I talked. “That’s…that’s not the problem. Raven helped me get it out of tow…but I promised to pay him back from proceeds from my next job,” I rushed to say. “The big problem now is that I came home tonight to find my landlord pounding on my door. He wants me out because he found out about Stanley. I was behind on my rent anyway, but there’s this job which will take care of everything. The problem is, the payday is a week away and I don’t have the time. I-I’m not asking for a loan, Vonne. I wantto put that out here. I guess, I’m just asking you for your advice because I sure as hell don’t know what to do.”
A shrill whistle came through the phone, and I yanked it away from my ear. “Shit, Vonne,” I said, pressing the phone back to my head.
“Sorry, Trigg. You sounded like you were about to lose it there. What can I do? I’d have you come stay with me here but you know I can’t do the whole cat thing. My lady—you know she’s allergic.”
“I know.” I hesitated, the wheels turning in my head. “Listen, I gotta get out of here tonight. The sheriffs are coming in the morning to throw my shit on the lawn.” I reached up and ran a hand through my hair. “I think—I think I can go to Raven’s place. He’s got a house in the Hollywood Hills, and I was supposed to go there tonight for dinner anyway. He told me to bring the cat.”
Vonne let out a bark of laughter. “You’ve known the boy for a day and he’s askin’ you to move in? You must have a magical dong, my friend.”