Chapter #36A Surprising Lead by: Seuzz   "No, I said I'd stick it out as you," you say. "I'll take care of Seth."
"And I take care of Lisa?" your partner asks with a cocked eyebrow.
"Don't you fucking--" you growl.
"Alright," he says. He looks at the golem. "We can just send that thing out. It doesn't seem to be malfunctioning when it's being you."
"Maybe because I helped put it together, and you didn't?"
"I don't know," he says. "We need to figure out more about how these things work."
"We can get together with Justin tonight, look at the book."
"I don't like that idea," he says quietly after a moment's thought. "If he's mixed up in it--"
"Well, I don't know how else we're supposed to figure it out."
"There's gotta be more info out there," he insists. "Go to the library, check out the internet--"
"And just find a bunch of crap."
"We don't say anything to Justin until we have a better of idea of what's going on," he says firmly. "Because maybe it's not the golem doing it, you know?"
You know. You let him change back into Justin's mask, set Prescott's mask on the golem, and send it back out. It gives you a raffish grin before it leaves.
* * * * *
You spend the rest of the day working yourself into a mood. Chelsea meets you outside the gym after the final bell, and you don't so much kiss her as bite her on the lips. "Can I watch?" she asks.
"No. We're gonna do it in private. He has to know it's my decision." You leave her panting hungrily as you go into the gym.
The Durrases are in the locker room along with most of the other guys, but you ignore them. Once everyone has changed, you line them up on the gym floor. "Bennett, you and Martin pick teams. Make sure you split up the two new guys," you order. "Play hard and keep busy till I get back. Javits, you and Patterson are with me." You jerk your head, gesturing them toward the stairs to the loft. You catch Seth grinning at Jeremy Richards as he follows.
You shut the door after the three of you are inside. "You ever been up here?" you ask, though you know the answer.
"Can't say I have," he says, looking immensely pleased.
"Wanna make it a regular hang out?" Without Seth seeing, Patterson gets behind him.
Javits looks up at you in surprise. "You serious?" His grin widens even more. "Me and Cindy, like, hanging out with--?"
"No Cindy. She can't come up here."
He blinks hard. "Then what's the--? Just stag?"
"Oh, you can bring girls up. Any girl you want. Except Cindy."
Color rises in his cheek. "Me and Cindy are serious about each other, Gordon," he says.
You step up to him, and he backs up, bumping into Patterson. "No you're not," you tell him. "She's just a whore and you're gonna dump her."
"What are you--?"
"I said she's a whore, and you're going to dump her," you repeat, stepping so close you touch your chest to his. "Are you going to argue with me?"
His jaw falls open slightly. "Gordon, this--"
You glance up at Patterson; he whips his arms around and catches Seth in a headlock; the hapless player gasps, and then gasps harder as you seize his hair. You put your finger in his face.
"I've been letting you fuck her," you say. "But now it stops." You wrench his head to the side. "You can only fuck the girls I let you fuck. And now Cindy is unfuckable. At least by you. Because I don't give you permission to fuck her."
His eyes flash. "Gordon, you can't--"
"Can't? Ask Reggie Carmichael what I can't do." Javits's eyes widen at the infamous name. You rip open a nearby crate and extract an indelible marker. "Steve, what're some synonyms for 'Cindy Vredenburg'? I'm gonna write 'em all over Javits' dick so Cindy can read about herself before she sucks him off next time."
"Gordon, if you--"
"First, you're off the team. Second, every one of your asshole friends is gonna start taking turns pissing in your face while the others hold you down. You know they will, because I'm gonna make 'em. Third, Cindy is going to start finding herself extremely unpopular with people she wants to be popular with, and extremely popular with people she'd prefer not to have touching her."
"You wouldn't--!"
"Think of Cindy, you little ass-wipe. Think of that sloppy, stinky, hairy, cunt-faced little she-gorilla. That's exactly what you're gonna call her tomorrow morning too, when you dump her after practice, right in front of her cheerleader friends. You're gonna call her a sloppy, stinky, hairy, cunt-faced she-gorilla, and that you wanted to puke every time you touched her. It'll be a hell of a lot nicer than the things she'll hear if you don't. Also, you're not gonna tell her beforehand. It's gonna be a surprise."
"Why are you doing this?" Seth asks through clenched teeth.
"To prove a point," you say. "To prove that no one fucks a girl in this school without my permission. And to find out if you're worthy of the team. The real team." You stroke his cheek. "The team that gets to come up here. Steve, do you get to fuck Kendra Saunders?"
"I dunno, Gordon," he says. "Do I?"
"Yes you do. Does Javits get to fuck Cindy?"
"I dunno, Gordon. Does he?"
"No he doesn't. That's the way it works up here, Javits, if you want up here. I'd like to have you up here. That's how much I think of you. What do you think of me?"
You step back and let him dwell on the question for a good long time. Various expressions--all nauseated--pass over his face. "You're the boss," he finally says in a thick voice.
"Fuckin-A, Javits. Hear that, Steve? He's one of us now. You can fuck each other, if you want."
"I don't," says Patterson, and releases Seth.
"You can go home now, Javits, take the afternoon off," you say. "But keep your mouth shut till tomorrow. If you don't, remember Reggie."
Seth shakes himself all over, and then, eyes downward, charges out of the loft.
"You have fun?" Steve asks.
"Yeah, I gotta jack off now. You run things downstairs." He shrugs and exits too.
* * * * *
You're still in the loft an hour later when your phone rings. "Hey man," Maize says in a low voice. "We need to get together at my place, like now. Justin says it's important."
"I got important stuff of my own to deal with."
"Not as important as--"
"I said I'm busy!" you yell, and slap the phone off. You wouldn't be in the mood to deal with Justin anyway, even if you hadn't agreed to steer clear of him for the time being.
But the call sets you thinking, and you prowl the loft trying to put half-formed ideas together. Gordon said you learn to know more about this shit. You found the book at Arnholm's. It's the longest of long-shots, and hardly worth even pursuing. But it's someplace to go instead of Tsosie's. Or home.
You have to smile to yourself a little as you pull into the street. Gordon himself doesn't even know that Arnholm's Used Book Store exists, let alone where to find it.
* * * * *
You stare at the cabinet where you found the book. It's locked, so you can't get into it to browse the contents. But you're not seeing anything that looks useful anyway.
And then someone nudges you out of the way. It's Ted Arnholm. He opens the cabinet and slides a new book onto one of the shelves.
"Excuse me, sir," you say, and twinge a little at the sharp, beady-eyed glance he gives you. If you weren't inside Gordon's mask, you wouldn't even dare talk to him. "You probably don't remember, because it's been a week or so back--"
"Spit it out," he snaps.
"A friend of mine bought a book. He found it in this cabinet. An old book, but all the pages were glued shut. He said you sold it to him at a marked-down price."
A vein pops out in his temple. "Oh, I remember," he says. "Took a huge loss on it. You don't forget things like that," he adds bitterly.
"Well, I was hoping you might have another book like that here?"
"Looking for another discount?" he sneers.
"No sir. It was just an interesting looking book, and I wanted to know more about it."
His mouth binds up in a fierce frown. Then he closes the cabinet with a snap and gestures you to follow him. Your hopes rise, until he just leads you back to the counter, where he rummages around in a drawer. "I don't even know what kind of book it was," he grumbles. "But the previous owner came out here a week or two ago, wanting to buy it back. He left his card. Ah, here it is." He peers at it, and then pulls it close to his chest. "You interested in selling it back to him?"
"I'd just like to know more about it," you say cautiously.
He glowers at you. "I'm not in the business of sharing our customers' private information," he says.
You're not sure what the right answer is here, because you're not even sure you want to meet this "previous owner." "Well, if he offers a lot of money for it, my friend might--"
"He offered me a finder's fee, if--" He looks you up and down. "If your 'friend' got in touch with him and sold it back." He scratches the card with a rough fingernail. "If your friend sells it back, I'll give him five bucks store credit if he comes back and tells me. Okay?"
"That sounds fair."
Still, he hesitates a few seconds before handing it over. "I don't normally do this kind of thing," he says.
"Of course." You glance at the card: "Aubrey Blackwell, Professor of Archaeology, Keyserling School of Mining and Technology."
Maybe you should just go out and see this guy. Or maybe you should call Gordon and get him to go along too. | Members who added to this interactive story also contributed to these: |
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