HELL OF A DEAL, a supernatural satire

Chapter Nine

9

Al fled back along the leather couch, and he pushed Katya off of him. She landed awkwardly, her legs twisting in the air.

"I'm sorry!" Al covered his nakedness with his pants.

"Well you should be." Lou stood over them with contempt and condemnation. "Jeez, Al. I'm gone five minutes to get a smoke, and you jump my woman. What if Katya and I had something special? Something serious?"

Al dressed himself as fast as he could, but he was clumsy and confused. "Well, um, do you? You and Katya?"

Lou turned away to hide his levity. "Of course not. I'm just fucking with you."

Katya laughed sinisterly. "You should both do me, right now." Her tongue danced back and forth.

Lou flared his eyebrows in Al's direction. "Yeah? You game, little buddy?"

Al yelled, "Stop it! Let's just get back to work."

"Oooh. Sorry, boss." Lou inspected the room with a pronounced indignation. "This place is stuffy and claustrophobic, and it smells like Katya now." Lou stepped away. "I'm going to a club."

Al shook his head with surprise. "I've got a meeting with a top screenwriter. He's on his way over."

"Tell him to meet us at the club."

"Which club?"

Lou walked away and up to the door. "Candyland."

Al grabbed for his phone. He now felt more amped-up than before, more electrified than he could ever remember in his entire seventy-three years. This was some kind of off-the-tracks train ride, and he didn't know where the hell he was going next.

Al's phone blared out loudly in his hand. He dropped the device to the floor. "Oh my God." He knew the ring tone intimately. "It's Victoria."

Lou and Katya preened themselves at the wall mirrors.

Al shivered, and he stared down at the telephone. "It's Victoria. I can't answer it. This is not my voice. I'm not thirty. Christ! I'm younger than she is."

"So don't answer it." Lou smoothed his hair with some styling gel. "Hey, Little Al?"

"Could you not call me that please?"

"Get some young aspiring actresses to meet up with us over at Candyland." Lou meticulously shaped his hair until it was just right.

Al stood up. "We don't even have a script, and you want to hold auditions?"

* * * * *

The club was deafeningly loud, full of shamelessly slutty women and male models. They hoped to attract something new and profitable. Bright rainbow colored plastic hung in various shapes to simulate candy. A frenzy of consumption surrounded the liquid candy bars.

Lou Seaford marched through the crowds with Katya hanging on his arm like an ornament. Al followed behind nervously, a small poodle in its owner's shadow.

Katya twisted back to Al, and she said, "Did you ever fuck right in the middle of the dance floor, Alfred? In the middle of everybody? It's so hot."

Lou interjected, "Hey! Business! Let's get a table. Where's this asshole screenwriter?"

"He's coming."

The three sat at a booth, and they awaited the screenwriter's arrival.

Lou pointed to a couple of fresh young ladies who had just entered the club. "There we go. Yummy."