Wednesday, August 14, 2013

Wednesday Briefs: No Way Out #17

Hello, hello, hello, and Happy Wednesday! Hope everyone is having a great day. I know I am! Ready for some flash fiction? This week's prompts are: "Nothing else matters" or have a scene set in an art gallery or use: fish, knife, ice or use a bucket in an interesting way or have one of your characters explain what FIFO means or have someone watch an arrest or be arrested or use: sun, mimosa, swing or "One is the loneliest number."

As you'l recall from last week's episode, Wyatt called his mentor, Lukas, upset over what he heard between Shy and Randy. Will what Lukas has to say ease Wyatt's mind, or make matters worse? Don't forget to check out the other Wednesday Briefers, whose links follow my tale! Enjoy!

No Way Out #17

Lukas didn’t speak immediately. He poured himself more wine and drained the glass, then replaced it on the coffee table. He repositioned himself in the corner of the sofa, one leg crooked across the cushions, the other holding a position on the floor.

Wyatt held his tongue, half dreading the words he might hear. A sour anticipation held sway in the pit of his stomach. He was afraid to add to it with any more wine. He watched Lukas’ left hand carefully. That was the tell to what he was thinking or feeling. He was rubbing his thumb against each of the digits in turn in a constant motion.

That was an indicator of unsurety on his part. The feeling grew stronger. Wyatt rose and paced across the room, pulling back the blinds to gaze across the street. The sedan was there now. He dropped the curtains into place, returned to the sofa and fell heavily onto it, his attention riveted on Lukas.

“I’m just not sure where to begin,” Lukas confessed. “This isn’t a conversation I ever thought we’d need to have, to be honest.”

“How about starting with Randy and Shy? What’s their relationship?” Wyatt leaned toward his mentor, as if proximity would ease the severity of whatever needed to be said. Maybe he was wrong, maybe he’d read something into them that didn’t exist. “Is Randy his father?” That would explain the sir, but not the kiss.

At the look in Lukas’ eyes, Wyatt’s heart sank. No, he didn’t think so.

“Hardly.”

Another long pause.  Wyatt reached for the wine bottle, upended the remains into his glass, then chugged them. Damn his stomach anyway.

“Shylor and Doreen moved in when Shy was just a little kid. Maybe fifteen years ago. Something like that. She was Randy’s housekeeper.”

Wyatt tapped an impatient foot into the carpet. There had to be more than that.

“About five years ago, Doreen left and Shy stayed.”

“Why did she leave? Why did Shy stay? That doesn’t answer my question, Lukas. What’s their relationship?”

“I think you already have some idea about that.” Lukas looked him square in the eyes. Wyatt found he couldn’t pretend any more.

“They’re a couple?”

“I’m not sure that’s the word I’d use,” Lukas cautiously replied.

“But they’re together, right? That old goat is fucking a kid young enough to be his son?” Wyatt felt incensed on Shy’s behalf. And frustrated. And thoroughly disgusted.

Lukas held up one hand.  “Just putting this out there, but that ‘old goat’ is my age, Wyatt. You want to rephrase that?”

“Sorry, I didn’t mean anything, you know that...” Wyatt forced himself to take a deep calming breath. “But he’s still a hell of a lot older than Shy. And five years ago? What was Shy then? Fifteen? Sixteen? That has to be illegal.”

“Probably, but who’s going to press charges? Shy’s mother’s not here. Shy? Hardly.”

“But... but... but...” Wyatt sputtered ineffectually, trying to grasp the concept that Randy Grant had taken a young boy into his bed... an undoubtedly innocent young boy... and was holding him hostage there to this very day.

He replayed the scene in the grocery store for the millionth time in his head.

“He called him Sir.” Wyatt’s voice was barely audible.

“What?”

“When we were together, he called him Sir. On the phone.”

“Shit, Wyatt.”

“I know, that’s creepy, right?”

“No, not shit for that. Shit because you and him... you were together? Where? How?”

“He met me at Shop For Less. Today. Then the Keeper called and he said he had to go. Called him Sir.”

“The what?”

“The Keeper. That’s what I call Randy.”

Lukas rolled his eyes. “Can’t say I’m surprised, though.  Did he know about you?”

“Randy? No, I don’t think so.”

“Good. Nothing else matters.” Lukas breathed a sigh of obvious relief. “Tell you what, Wy, go into the liquor cabinet and bring out a bottle of something stronger. We’re going to need it, I think. I’ll square it with John later. That won’t be a problem.”

“Like what?”

“Some of his expensive bourbon. The black label.”

Wyatt wasted no time in doing as Lukas asked, going into the private stock of liquor in the study. He brought back the nearly full bottle of Masterson’s finest bourbon and two clean glasses. He pushed the empty wine bottle and fluted glasses to the side; he’d pick them up later.

“Here, let me.” Lukas took the bottle from him. Wyatt hadn’t realized until that moment that his hands were shaking. Lukas poured three good fingers in each glass, handed one to Wyatt.

“Sip it,” he advised.  “Slowly.”

Though Wyatt wanted to bolt it as fast as he could, he obeyed.

“Okay, now listen to me, Wyatt. Are you listening?”

Wyatt nodded, not trusting his voice.

“There’s a whole lot more to this than just them sleeping together.”

“Do you think... Randy loves him?”

Lukas groaned. “Damn, Wyatt, that’s such a tough call to make.”

“Is it? You said you know them. You’ve seen them together. What do you think?”

“I think it’s complicated. But between us, no, not in any normal sense of the word. Keep sipping.” He indicated the smoky liquid in Wyatt’s glass. “It’s going to get worse before it gets better.”

I can do this. I can. If Shy can live through this... whatever this is... surely I can just listen to whatever it is...

“When I was very young, I met a man named Bobby Demaris. He took a liking to me, and he became my mentor.”

Wyatt wrinkled his brow in perplexity. “I don’t know any artist by that name.”

“No, he’s not an artist. At least not in the sense that you mean.”

“Then how did he mentor you?”

“Bobby has a club, a very special club. It’s a private club, in West County. Bobby D’s Sweet Majesty is the full name, but most of the members just call it Sweet Majesty for short.”

to be continued

Now, don't forget to visit the rest of the Briefers, see what they've been doing!


Nephylim   
Lily Sawyer      
Cia Nordwell    




2 comments:

  1. Shocking. I loved it. What's this club all about? Can't wait to find out.

    ReplyDelete