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Getting What You Really Want, Part 9
All stories on this web site are purely FICTIONAL. The people depicted within these stories only exist in someone's IMAGINATION. Any resemblence between anyone depicted in these stories and any real person, living or dead, is an incredible COINCIDENCE too bizarre to be believed. If you think that you or someone you know is depicted in one of these stories it's only because you're a twisted perverted little fucker who sees conspiracies and plots where none exist. You probably suspect that your own MOTHER had sex with ALIENS and COWS and stuff. Well, she didn't. It's all in your head. Now take your tranquilizers and RELAX.
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Getting what you really want.
Part Nine
Written by Nicolus Tails
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It was probably about a quarter 'till ten when I woke up. It was
Sunday, so I didn't have to worry about getting anywhere early. Tim was
lying beside me, wide awake, staring at the ceiling.
"What are you thinking about?" I asked him.
"Only the same thing we've been talking about for weeks now. I had a
really weird dream last night."
"Aron was in it I assume?"
"Alive and well sipping Pina Coladas on the beaches of Maui."
I smiled, picturing the image.
I walked into the kitchen and started making coffee. "Luke Wells
International Coffees" it said on the side of the can. I started that
brewing, and went into the spare bedroom. Justin had pulled all the windows
and shades completely shut, so he had no concept of night or day, and as a
result, was still asleep as if it were 3am. I opened the shades, and
sunlight from the morning flooded the room. The room was on the front of my
house, and I could see people in my neighborhood out doing the usual for this
time of morning on a weekend. It was a pretty nice neighborhood, a lot of
people retired, a few working class people, and even a few children running
around on the street. It was right out of a storybook, but this was real. I
switched on the radio.
"...and should be partly to mostly cloudy over most of the day, high
very cool, around 74 degrees. Tonight, most of the same, low around 50, and
more of the same throughout the week, highs in the high 70s. This is KHOW,
630 AM."
I went over and pulled off the covers on Justin's bed. He was a slow
waker, and it took quite a bit of noise or commotion to bring him out of
sleep. He meerly turned over, and put his face in his pillow. I just pulled
all the top covers off the bed, and dropped them on the floor. When he
started to get cold, he'd get up.
Music was coming over the radio, bringing in with it something
special. Tim was cooking in my kitchen, and I walked out to get the paper.
"1 dead, 24 injured..." I expected to see that headline start off
again, as it had done two weeks ago on this Sunday. I began to worry a
little that this wouldn't be a good day for Justin, but in the past two
weeks, there weren't any, so it couldn't be much worse.
I went back inside, and began to undo the band, and pull out the
various parts of the paper. Madonna's "Material Girl" was coming over the
speaker, which I had wired all over the house. Justin stumbled into the
living room wearing nothing, and collapsed onto the couch. He was like I
was. Never awake until a hot shower and hot coffee. If I didn't get that,
I'd never make it past the kitchen.
"What is today?" Justin asked.
"July 17th, '88. Want a section of the paper?"
"No thanks."
Tim walked in with two cups of coffee, and gave one to me. He
noticed Justin.
"Oh, Justin, want some coffee?"
"Sure," Justin said. He was still half asleep. The radio came back
on.
"Good morning. This is Hal, it's 10:15. Still no lead to speak of on
that Chicago massacare that occured two weeks ago today, leaving a Denver
man, Aron Mason dead, and 24 injured. Police are still not ruling out the
possibility of a freak shooting. In other news, Democratic nominee Michael
Dukakis is whipping up more campaign spirit with running mate..."
I switched off the radio. Justin was sitting up, wide awake with his
cup. I got the weirdest feeling that he was going to start telling "Aron
stories" again. I didn't have anything against that, but for the past two
weeks, everytime he talked, it was about Aron. This morning, I just didn't
want to hear it. But that never stopped him before.
"I remember one time in High school. He was always getting out of
classes, it was like an obsession with him to see if he could do it without
getting caught. And for four years, he never did. One time he did it with
faking death. He had me call in, and I told him that Aron had died, and we
had it printed in the school paper and everything. (He laughed a little.) He
got out of classes for about three weeks, then went back. Everyone was
shocked, but he just claimed it was a mistake, someone else had died, and he
was all right."
Justin stopped short of finishing the sentence. He looked at me,
realizing what he had just said.
"Why would he do that," Justin asked me. I didn't answer
immediately.
"Tim, call the airlines," I said. Tim hurried out of the room.
Chicago O'Hare Airport. Justin and I landed about 2 in the
afternoon, rented a car, and got on the freeway.
"OK," I started, "where was Aron supposed to go when he was in
Chicago?"
"He had a job interview with some company here. National firm, but
this is where they like to hold all the evaluations."
"Do you know what company?" I asked him.
"Reston Industries."
Within an hour, we found the building in question. A huge sign was
in front, with chrome letters spelling out "RI". We went into the lobby up
to the receptionist.
"Can I help you?" It was a lady sitting behind a huge desk, which
she probably didn't need.
"I want to know if you had an Aron Mason come to this firm two weeks
ago yesterday. He was here for a job interview."
"Just a moment." She pulled out this huge book of appointments and
scanned through. It took a little while, but she ended up going through all
the appointments made. I began to wonder why she didn't have it put in on a
computer, but I wasn't in the mood to suggest ideas.
"I'm sorry, no Aron Mason listed," she told us. Justin turned and
walked away.
"Thanks anyway," I told her, then followed Justin outside. We walked
to the car.
"OK," he said, "he lied to me, and didn't really come here. So just
where in the hell did he go?"
"Do you know what motel he was staying at?"
"No, but it's a good bet it was one of those near the airport."
We started to check around. It took a couple of hours, as it turned
out the motel he was at wasn't near the airport. But it was in our area, so
we went over there. After haggling with the manager, we finally talked him
out of the key to the room. We walked inside.
"What are we looking for?" Justin asked.
"Anything that will tell us what's going on."
We went all over that room several times. It was only a single room,
so there really wasn't that much to cover, but there was nothing. We were
just about to walk out, when Justin happened to glance behind a dresser. An
envelope had falled behind there. It took a little bit to fish it out, but
we finally managed to grab it. It was a letter.
"1200 Grand. 13 A.M."
"What is 13am? There's only 12am, then it's pm," Justin commented. I
didn't know what was going on. We located Grand, and by that time it was
about 6pm, and I was pretty hungary. We stopped in a parking lot, and walked
inside.
"They must be remodeling," I told Justin. Several of the counters
were being torn town, some walls were having some work done. Then it
suddenly dawned on me where we were. I looked up, and the sign read "Welcome
to Burger King."
I tugged on Justin, and we left in a rush. I had lost my appitite,
as Justin had, so we continued to find the house. As it turned out, 1200
Grand was a warehouse. An empty warehouse, actually. We went around the
grounds, but there was nothing.
We heard a voice behind us.
"Freeze assholes!" Then a click of a revolver.
We were drug inside the warehouse. Some guy walked up to us.
"So what are you doing on my property?"
I didn't answer him. He jabbed his fist into my stomach, and I
winced, but tried to hide it. He seemed to be getting impatient.
"What are you doing here?" he repeated. Justin spoke.
"We're just looking for a friend," he said, almost whining. Justin
wasn't the type of person that was used to this. Not that I was, but could
handle this a little better then Justin could.
"Oh a 'friend' are you? And just who might that be?"
I was hoping that Justin would just be quiet. But I knew he couldn't
be, or these people we were dealing with could do some damage. But I didn't
say anthing.
But Justin hesitated. He finally said it though.
"Aron Mason."
Suddenly the guy looked at Justin with interest. "Aron Mason you
say? Well I hate to disappoint you, but the boy's been done blown away. He
did some work for me, and I just couldn't let him continue any longer."
"What work?" I asked him. He looked over at me.
"The same kind of work he's always done." Then he made a motion to
another guy, who shoved us out the door. We were a little stunned, but
none-the-less went back to our car. Actually, we ran all the way back.
We located a hotel near the airport, and stayed the night.
Justin came over to me, as I was getting ready for bed.
"Do you get the feeling that something just isn't quite right?"
"Why do you say that?" I asked.
"What's going on with Aron, it just isn't making sense. Like what
that one guy said..."The same thing that he's been doing."...what?"
"Do you want an honest answer?"
"Yes."
"I think he's been running drugs. You remember when you told me the
story about the one party, with the bag. That's what I figured it was."
"Well, that's the first thing I considered. But ever since I knew
him in high school, he's the type of person who's watching out for law, not
breaking it."
"Yeah, but in the past couple of years he's changed. I'm not sure it
wasn't."
He didn't respond. But he looked hurt, like he was going to break
again. I really wished he wouldn't. I walked over to his bed to help him.
He rested his head on my shoulder, and looked out the window. Nothing could
be seen because of Chicago's lights, but the city looked beautiful. I placed
my hand around him, and squeezed him gently, and he kissed me for it.
"Do you want to make love?" he asked me. I pushed him down on the
bed, and we kissed. I relaxed with him, and tried to make this worthwhile.
As we gradually disrobed, I felt like he was treating me like he once treated
Aron. He was gentler than he usually was.
As we continued, I felt like we were becoming the same person.
Somehow, this was really special. I felt like I was really comfortable with
Justin, but somehow I felt like I was cheeting on Tim. Although I never
mentioned this to Justin, it bothered me.
We layed back on the bed, both of us feeling wonderful. But I knew
deep in my heart that I was cheeting on Tim, and more so, I knew Justin was
cheeting on Aron.
I knew Aron was out there somewhere. I was confused about what was
going on, but I didn't want to think about. I fell asleep dreaming, and for
a moment, I felt Aron was with me. I felt he was with Justin. I felt he was
with everyone.
>>>Nick Tails
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