Long Schlong Silver

by Kade, Teagan

  I reach for a chair in the corner, dragging it over beside his bed. “For you, buddy, I’ve got all the time in the world.”

  *

  The sun’s setting outside, the park below blazing orange and red. I realize we’ve been talking for hours, the time blitzing past.

  Danny gives a wolf whistle. “Shit, brother, that’s quite a story. And this girl’s a keeper, you’re saying? I mean, the great Bobby ‘Bear’ Silver grabbing himself a nice picket fence and four-bedder in the ’burbs? I don’t see it, man.”

  “She’s different,” I confess. “I love her.”

  It’s so easy to say around Danny, so weird.

  He thrashes his head around. “Get the fuck out of here,” he laughs. “You’ve gone soft, bro.”

  “Maybe,” I reply, nodding quietly to myself, “but I think she’s exactly what I need.”

  “She told you to come out here today, did she? Make peace and all that?”

  “She planted the idea, I guess, but I made the call.”

  “Shit,” he says, dragging out the ‘T’, “maybe you have matured.”

  I dip my head to the side. “I’m trying.”

  “You know what they say: maturity isn’t measure by age. It’s an attitude built by experience.”

  “Easy there, Dr. Phil, I’m still Bobby Silver.”

  “Who’s in love,” Danny croons.

  I lean in and punch him in the arm, a natural, practiced reaction harking back to days gone by.

  He goes deadpan. “You know I can’t feel that, right?”

  “Shit, sorry.”

  A smile breaks over his face. “I’m fucking with you, dickwad.”

  “Keep it up,” I reply, “and I’ll wheel you right through the window.”

  “Pfft, you can fucking try.”

  And so it goes on, the decade between us gone, snuffed out. It’s just like the old days all over again.

  Eventually, a nurse arrives to inform us visiting hours are over.

  “Thanks, Belle,” Danny slurs. “See you later,” he winks.

  She smiles and leaves.

  I lean over. “She’s cute. You getting some of that?”

  He lifts his eyebrows. “Bitch, please.”

  I stand. “It was good to see you, Dan.”

  “Likewise,” he says. “You going to come back or make me wait another ten years?”

  I take his shoulder, squeezing, knowing he can’t feel it but knowing he’ll appreciate the gesture regardless. “I’ll be back, my friend. Count on it.”

  “Oh, I will,” he smiles.

  I’m walking away, half through the door when I hear his voice.

  “And Bobby? Bring this girl that’s got you so pussy-whipped next time, will you?”

  I have to smile at that pretty sure Gisele and Danny would get along like a house on fire. “Will do, brother.”

  I don’t stop smiling the entire three hours home.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE

  GISELE

  Forget cats and dogs. It’s turned biblical outside, the rain a non-stop torrent, the houseboat rising with the water. I’m not too sure it’s going to be a safe place to be soon. I don’t exactly want to be washed away down to the Gulf of Mexico.

  The old CRT TV in the corner is providing a running commentary on what they keep repeating is the ‘storm of the century’.

  I just wish Bobby was here. The blanket around my shoulders smells like him, provides warmth, but it pales in comparison to the real thing.

  I’m standing at the window watching the rain when I hear my cell start to ring. I head down the back, searching for it on the floor and eventually finding it between a lone pair of panties and a sock, thankfully both mine.

  I check the number. It’s Knowles. I’ve been putting him off for days.

  Breathe, I tell myself. What’s the worst that could happen?

  But I know full well.

  Fuck it.

  I answer. “Gisele speaking.”

  I expect instant fire, but his tone is level. “Ms. Cole. I trust you’re keeping well.”

  These rich pricks, always so cordial at first. “Yes. As to the matter of business…”

  “It’s no longer your concern,” he cuts in.

  “Sorry?”

  “I’m terminating our contract, effective immediately.”

  I was expecting this, not that I thought it would come up so soon.

  “I’ve spoken to my lawyers. I’m well within legal grounds to do so.”

  I have no doubt he is, but not coming through, not delivering, will be the end of my career, my perfect record blemished and burnt away. I might have cared at the start of the week.

  “You’re not going to say anything? You’re not going to provide an excuse, an apology?”

  “I…” but I don’t know what to say. “Mr. Silver has proved incredibly difficult to convince, he…”

  And here comes the fire. “I don’t give a damn, Ms. Cole. You could have sucked his dick, shined up the ol’ shotgun a bit. Isn’t that how you usually work?”

  My defenses start to rise. Business is one thing, but personal attacks are quite another. “You know very well that’s not how I operate.”

  “You’ve got a cunt, don’t you?” he spits, shouting now. “Fucking use it!”

  I stab my finger at the reflection of myself in the window. “You think sending in that B&E team was wise? It wasn’t. It fucked up everything, and that’s on you, Mr. Knowles.”

  That gets him, the surprise obvious in his voice. “How do you know—”

  I don’t let him finish. “The land titles you’re after so badly? They’re safe and sound and a million miles away from your grubby fucking fingers. You’ll never get them. You’ll never get that land.”

  There’s a moment of silence where all I can hear is the solid beating of my heart and the steady drumming of rain outside.

  He speaks slowly and clearly. “Need I remind you, Ms. Cole, of my influence, my power. I can crush you. All I have to do is snap my fingers.”

  Arrogant asshole. He’s a man, not fucking Thanos. “Don’t worry. I’ll keep your dirty secrets if,” I add, “you put an end to this endeavor.”

  “Are you threatening me, Ms. Cole?”

  “Yes,” I reply, firm, “because if you don’t I’m not only going to out your dirty lawyer friend, I’m going to let everyone know about your little trips to Thailand. You know, the ones where you and your rich buddies go to diddle little boys.”

  Silence.

  Thanks, Bart, I think. His Intelligence contacts really came through… again.

  “As for our working arrangement,” I continue, “consider it terminated.”

  I hang up and hold the phone in front of me, expecting it to ring, but it never does.

  I place it down and slump into Bobby’s recliner, breathing hard.

  There it goes, I think. Years and years of hard work gurgling down the drain.

  But so fucking what? I might have given up my career, but I’ve gained something even better back.

  A soul.

  I smile, because it feels good, really damn good to give the middle finger to the man, those puppet masters working the shadows who let me do their dirty bidding. Screw them. They can do it themselves.

  The front door opens and Bobby swings inside with a flurry of rain, shaking himself out like a wet dog. “Fuck me. Maybe I should have bought an ark.”

  I stand, the blanket falling away, and rush into his arms, pressing myself tight against his chest.

  Slowly, his arms close around me. “Okay,” he laughs, “it’s good to see you too.” He holds me away at arm’s length. “Everything alright?”

  “I just got fired, I guess.”

  Bobby simply grins. “Best damn news I’ve heard all day. And your benefactor? Is he done haunting me?”

  Guys like Victor Knowles don’t stop until they get what they want. He already sent a team. What next? An army? I rattled him alright, which means that maybe,
just maybe, he will back down, but it’s unlikely. I’m hoping he’ll be in cuffs regardless once the right information gets to the right people.

  “I don’t know,” I reply, and I’m being honest. “I spooked him, but my gut says no.”

  Bobby pulls me back to his chest, stroking my hair. “Well, let him come then. We don’t take kindly to his sort here.”

  His hands drop to my butt, squeezing.

  “Where were you anyhow?” I query. “You’ve been gone since morning.”

  He breathes down into my hair. “Just seeing an old friend.”

  I don’t ask any more. I think I know, but it’s his business, his bridge to rebuild.

  “Now,” he says, “how about I warm you up right?”

  “Hmm,” I purr, “and what are you proposing, Mister Silver?”

  He grinds against me, the hard length of his cock pressing against my pelvis. “Hot, dirty sex… fuck-loads of it.”

  CHAPTER FORTY

  BOBBY

  I wake up to the sound of someone trying to bash the front door in.

  It takes me a moment to get my bearings, to note how much harder the rain’s coming down now.

  Thud, thud, thud.

  I look across to where Gisele’s sleeping peacefully, one long, naked leg extended out from under the blankets.

  I reach for the gun I keep beside the bed and switch the safety off. I’m gearing up for all hell when I hear Bart’s voice. “Open up, asshole!”

  Bart’s standing there in a poncho when I open the door looking the dictionary definition of a drowned rat, and a miserable rat at that.

  He looks down, eyes darting between my dick and the gun.

  “Jesus H, Bobby. You couldn’t have put on some underwear for once?” He nods to the gun. “You always answer the door with that thing?”

  I have to raise my voice to be heard over the rain. I reach down for my dick. “Some people like to see it up front, know what they’re getting into and all.”

  Bart shakes his head. “What we’re all going to be getting into is a shit-load of water soon if the river keeps on rising.”

  I step out and look past him to the river. He’s right. It’s almost reached the top of the bank. “Shit. How long?”

  He shrugs. “They’re saying maybe four, five hours.”

  “And the rain?”

  “Is going to keep on coming, boy-o. Whether you like it or not, Roxanne’s either coming ashore or going on a scenic cruise.”

  I look around, hands on my hips. “Shit. Nothing we can do about her, but how about the Gas & Tackle? Sandbagging?”

  “Already started. Thought you could pitch in given how many times I’ve saved your bacon over the years.”

  “Let me get dressed. I’ll meet you u—”

  I turn and find Gisele standing there with a blanket around her.

  She looks past my shoulder. “Bart.”

  “Ms. Gisele,” he nods back.

  “I’m helping too,” she says.

  I know it’s pointless trying to tell her to go to the motel. Frankly, we’re going to need all the hands we can get. “Alright.”

  “I’ll leave you lovebirds to it,” says Bart, pulling the hood of his poncho higher, turning, and heading back into the rain.

  I close the door. “Nothing turns me on more than a girl who isn’t afraid of a little manual labor.”

  She shoves me back, looking down at my cock. “Easy, big boy. We’ve got a job to do.”

  *

  It’s hard going. The rain’s torrential, the matching ponchos we’re wearing does little to keep the wet misery out. I feel like I’m trapped inside a fucking condom.

  I look across to where Gisele’s placing another sandbag, taking a moment to gather her breath before she runs off to the shed past the Gas & Tackle where the sandbags are stored.

  I throw another into place and wipe water from my eyes, looking down to where Roxanne is sitting dangerously high on the river.

  “We need to get more over this side!” Bobby shouts, directing two of the townsfolk from up the road who’ve come to help. They know we’re sitting in a shitty spot here, need the extra hands. The Gas & Tackle is Bart’s life. We’re not about to see it flooded out.

  The idea’s to create a kind of ‘U’ formation, funnel the water around the main store, but it’s going to be tight. We had a situation like this back in two-thousand-nine but the water only came up a few meters. Tonight’s different. The river seems determined to rise.

  Blue and red lights flicker through the rain. I clear my eyes again, squinting to see what’s going on.

  It’s the Sheriff’s car.

  Bart stops, breathing hard. “You think he’s come to help or tell us to pack our bags?”

  I stand up straight. “No idea.” I shake my poncho out. “I’ll go.”

  I run over to where the Sheriff’s car is sitting idling, pulling the hood of the poncho down and tapping against the driver-side window.

  He winds it down a couple of inches. “Sandbagging?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  He nods, looking out the front of his windshield. “Going to be a tight one.”

  “You’ve come to tell us to evacuate?”

  He looks at me square-on. “I’ve come to mention you might have company of a different kind tonight.”

  “What?”

  “Had word from Greg Heine up there in Kayenne County, said he saw a convoy passing through, headed this way, military boys kind-of. Thought it seemed strange given everyone’s moving in the opposite direction.”

  “They’re coming here?”

  “Looks like it. Got a call from Ted in town, said the exact same thing—geared-up Army types moving fast in this direction.”

  “Shit.”

  It has to be Knowles sending in some kind of hit squad. Given the way I dealt with the first batch, I don’t think he’s sending boy scouts this time.

  The Sheriff smiles. “Guess those sandbags of yours might be seeing some use before the river rises.” He reaches over to the passenger seat and returns into view with a shotgun, checking it’s loaded and opening the glovebox, fishing in there for a box of shells.

  “How long?”

  He stops what he’s doing. “Until they get here?” He chews on the inside of his mouth for a while. “Twenty, thirty minutes?”

  “You called for backup?”

  He smiles. “The only backup that matters around here.”

  “Good.”

  I slap the roof on the car. “You best be going before things turn ugly. Take Gisele with you.”

  He looks around my chest to where Gisele’s busy placing another sandbag down. “Doesn’t seem like she wants to leave, and frankly, neither do I. Serve and protect and all that.”

  “These guys are going to be well-armed and well-trained. Even with the others it’s going to be a shitshow.”

  “My town, my shitshow,” the Sheriff replies, pumping the shotgun. “Let those fuckers come and taste some of our country hospitality.”

  “I really think—”

  “Son, shut your trap and let me get out of the damn car.”

  I take a step back with my hands raised. “Alright, Sheriff.”

  He stands there in the rain, water dripping from the peak of his cap. “Let’s get to work.”

  CHAPTER FORTY-ONE

  GISELE

  I heave another sandbag onto the wall, one that now seems like it will fit two purposes: keeping the water and bullets at bay.

  Another two trucks pull up, their headlights sluicing through the rain. Bart directs them over into the scrub. There must be twenty or thirty locals here now all kitted out for war. It’s like the town’s got its own personal militia.

  Bobby throws another sandbag on top of mine. He’s been alternating between filling in the locals on what to do and where to be, and working on the wall.

  “Winter may not be coming,” he says, “but I kind of wish our friends would. It’s getting cold out here.”<
br />
  I’m starting to shiver myself. What I’d give to be naked and warm together under a sky-high pile of blankets right now. That’s all I need, all I want. Not… this.

  I squint into the darkness ahead. “Is that Bart, with barbed wire?”

  Bobby nods. “Yep. The crazy bastard’s got a whole shed of shit we’re going to put to use. Can’t make it easy on these guys.”

  I stop what I’m doing and take his hand, squeezing it. “Promise me you’ll be okay. I can’t lose you. Not now.”

  I expect a wise crack to come back, something about being immortal, but he simply hangs his head before returning my gaze. “Baby, whatever your friend Knowles is throwing at us here, just know I’ve faced far worse. Once I was pinned down in Kandahar for three days, holed up behind a wall with half a bottle of water and a coffee cup to piss in. And look,” he says, throwing his hands out, “I’m here hole-free, aren’t I?”

  I prod him in the chest. “You get yourself hurt and I’ll make the hole myself.”

  He leans forward to place his lips against my forehead. “I’d like to see you try.”

  “Bobby!” someone shouts towards the trucks.

  “I better go,” he says, wiping water from his face. “These closet jarheads have been waiting their whole lives for an excuse to pull out the artillery. They’re probably going to shoot each other’s balls off if I don’t give them some kind of guidance.”

  “Go,” I tell him. “I’ll be fine here.”

  “I know.”

  He squeezes my hand one last time, letting it fall limply against my thigh.

  I look up to the sky, pins and needles on my face where the rain falls.

  Bobby said something earlier about the rain being to our advantage, that the folk around here were used to it, but I’m not so sure. The river’s rising, who knows what’s about to emerge from the darkness, and what do we have but a rag-tag community army?

  “Get a grip,” I tell myself, returning back to task. It’s unlike me to look so pessimistically at things. Maybe it’s Bobby. Maybe he’s chipped away at my heart and created a sort of weakness there, a fault.

  Would that be so bad, making you an actual living, feeling human?

  I have to smile at the thought. I’d certainly become rather robotic before I rolled into this town. My job was all that kept me going. I’d check my bank account five times a day wondering why the figure wasn’t higher, wondering what I could do for more, always more, and for fucking what? To die old and alone? To burn out?