Elysian Fields (A Kyman Fanfiction)

Chapter 2: So Crazy

My heart is beating in my ears. I look over my champagne glass cautiously at the fat-ass, and notice he's still watching me with his narrowed hazel eyes.

This is fucking unreal.

He asks the first question, testing the waters of the new complexity of our mutual hatred. "So Kahl, are you an attention whore or just gay?"

Ignoring the obvious jibe, I wonder, should I lie? If he finds out I'm that desperate for money, he could use it against me. I can already hear the ringing of 'cheap Jew family with a Jewish American princess for a son.'

"I'm not here because I had a choice, Cartman," I admit quietly. Mr. Yamamoto is looking from behind the bar. I smile in an attempt to look like nothing's wrong. If desperate, I could get Cartman kicked out if I say he's harassing me. The bouncers would be thrilled.

But on my first official day? Looks bad.

"Why are you here?" I ask him. Booze or bitches are the expected response. He turned back toward the stage, his face relaxing in the violet light. He dangled one harm over the back of his chair lazily.

"What else is there to do in this stupid little town?" He sighed slightly, his words tinged with the same realization I came to.

I tentatively handled the long stem of the glass and chewed on my lip. A silence fell once again. I absentmindedly note Cadillac's set ended and she joined an older man at the bar; the DJ announced Ferrari was next as Black Widow began.

"So what do you want?" I repeat.

Cartman faced me, a feigned look of confusion on his brow. "You mean with the knowledge of your... extracurricular activities?" An evil smile, "I'll figure something out. I don't want to be rash with my dealings or I could make a mistake and let you off easy. Although I will admit, this is going to be fun."

The crushing sense of defeat intertwined with gloom hits me in the chest. Cartman fails to notice and downs the last of his champagne. He waves the waitress, a girl named Mary, over and gets two more glasses of champagne. My head begins to swim as I finish the first glass and I vaguely wonder how many calories are in champagne before realizing he ordered me another one.

Mary tnks the the two fresh ones on our table. I know Cartman has a fake ID, he bragged about it enough last year when he and Kenny bought them off some community college jerks. I didn't know he was in the habit of using it though.

"You look very pretty, Starr," his deep voice saccharine with a slight slur. "How much for a dance?"

Yep. That's the Cartman I know.

I roll my eyes and reply curtly, "One, never, two, I don't do that, and three, still never."

He smiles and tilts his head forward, smugly shaking it, "Silly Starr, all dancers give dances. Usually for twenty dollars, more if I want a private room and a bottle of champagne. Didn't you read your contract?"

I pause. He was right about both, I just didn't expect him to know. "How do you know that? Still never."

He stretches his arms behind him and puffs out his chest. "I've been to enough clubs. I have a lot of time since I don't sleep and this place is more interesting than my bedroom walls when I need to jerk off."

More blunt honesty I didn't ask for. I laugh and reply before I can stop myself, "Because no one would willingly fuck you."

I begin to take another sip of my champagne when he grabs my wrist, hard. I see the rage and face it with my own indifference. Why does he get so angry? It should just slide off his back, after how many years we've been at this.