Arriving at the entrance to my building on Cours Belsunce, not far from the Old Port, I managed to climb the four revolving floors. Out of breath like Ian Thorpe after the 100-meter freestyle, I entered the promised room.
After sewing up the components of my light suit as I progressed, I threw myself onto the uncomfortable antique mattress, on which I wasn't the first occupant. Thirty minutes of simulated sleep later, I decided to get up. A coffee, a cigarette, followed by a little tour on Grindr. There's nothing like living in downtown Marseille in the summer to get something to satisfy your lust.
I was looking at the profile of a charming Norwegian when the call from Mr. Tapin, my banker, blocked my view. I picked up the phone and adopted my most snobbish accent:
- Master Chems, what can I do for you?
- Good morning, Mr. Tapin. How are you?
His tone had never been so syrupy. Normally he talked down to me and didn't hesitate to tell me to fuck off.
- Wonderful! Considering my bank balance, I assume you're fine too, my dear Gerald.
- I can't hide the relief I feel after this string of unpaid installments, Mr. Chems. I understand that you've been hired by one of our prestigious clients. I wanted to let you know that the source of the funds doesn't deserve legitimacy.
- Perfect, Gerald! I don't plan to spend the money right away, so make sure you hold on to the money in case I need to return it.
- Give it back! Why should I give it back? Be serious.
PAF! I hung up the phone. I still didn't understand the situation, not to mention I felt like a hostage with a case I wasn't sure I wanted to take.
The headache I usually get after a party set in. Like a zombie, I went into the kitchen in search of a Doliprane. Slumped on the sofa with one hand in my Calvin Klein underwear, I'd coffee, a cigarette and Grindr. Once again, the phone rang. A masked number.
- Ilan Chems, speaking.
- Hello Master Chems. This is Sandy Wagner from Jock & Strap.
Needless to say. Any self-respecting lawyer knew who Sandy Wagner was. Without her approval, no lawyer could hope to make a career there. Everyone who worked for her was either a top lawyer or even an internationally known judge or politician. Only three graduates from around the world are given the honor of being admitted to the hallowed bar each year.
- Hello!
She must've been used to provoking that daze effect, because she followed up as quickly as she could:
- We'd love to have you on our team.
- Are you sure?
Unlike many of my classmates, I'd never applied for this internship because I knew the chances were slim.
- Your exceptionally good test scores and your senior thesis suggest that you're one of the few people in the world who truly understand the law. We expect to see you in our Marseille office in three weeks.
- I'll be there.
- Good, I'll email you the details. Welcome to Jock & Strap Master Chems.
PAF Without me telling her said email address, she hung up. A g-mail notification she probably already knew.
My life took a rather unexpected turn. Sensing that the time to figure out what my new found happiness entailed was approaching, I wanted to make myself a beauty. I'd been saving for years to buy my first couture suit, which I'd use to begin my professional adventure. Even though appearances are deceiving, they're still very important in this day and age.
No sooner had I combed my auburn hair for the last time than my damn cell phone vibrated, displaying a text message that came from my first client.
Meet me at L'Endroit at 5pm.
That left me with just fifteen minutes. Luckily, I lived just a few feet away.
L'Endroit was one of the most representative bars of the LGBT community in Marseille. Everywhere else, Shakira, Beyoncé, Lady Gaga, and Britney were dethroned by electro or dubious mixes. Rémy, the standout slim, bearded hipster owner, opened the door for me. I admired this guy for adopting this look over the basket, the symbol of the fetishists of the sneaker plans.
- Hi Darling!" he said as he turned his cheek to me.
Despite his scum armor that wanted to be a camouflage of his femininity, a gesture or a word was enough to betray the perfidy. Stressed by my upcoming meeting, I didn't dwell on banality. The good man didn't resent my brusqueness and pointed with his index finger to the room VIP with the tinted windows on the floor.
YOU ARE READING
Grind'r Stranger : The origins of Evil !
Ficção GeralIlan Chems, a rich gay gangster's lawyer, has everything to be happy about, except perhaps love, which scares him to death. Through his carnal encounters on Grindrr, he accepts a marriage proposal from a guy he's known barely twenty minutes. And wha...
