by Paul Slatter
Sebastian held his jaw and moved himself away from the beach and out onto the pathway that led away from the seawall and up under the trees. Holding his mouth and tasting blood for the first time in years, he said surprisingly, “I don’t care about the dog, he’s not mine and all he does is shit anyway.”
The young boys were laughing now, at the old man with the strange voice trying to be funny. The older one said, “So, you don’t care if we throw him in the sea?”
"There’s no need for that,” Sebastian said, as he looked up at the empty road.
The bigger kid who’d hit him smiled under his t-shirt saying, “There’s no cops up there at this time of night—if you wanted them you should have been down here a few hours ago before they went looking for a Starbucks.” Then looking to the dog, he said, “You want me to throw the mutt in the sea or not?”
Sebastian shook his head, he didn’t. As he looked at Fluffy pulling at the lead to get back to him and away from the younger of the two boys, he said, “What do you want?”
“What you got?” answered the bigger of the two.
Sebastian felt for his phone, which wasn’t there, and neither was his wallet. Remembering leaving them up in his penthouse, he said, “I have nothing.”
The kids laughed together, then the youngest of the two spoke for the first time saying, “Well, looks like the dog’s going for a swim.”
“Take my sweater it’s worth a grand, same with my shoes,” said Sebastian.
“What do we look like a fucking thrift store?” said the older of the boys, laughing again.
Then taking a deep breath, Sebastian said firmly, “Well you can fight me or you can fuck off.”
The two kids stared at him, this old gay guy getting tough. The older of the two dropped his trick bike to the ground and moved towards Sebastian as Sebastian took a step towards him and caught the kid straight in the eye with a left hook.
Stunned the older kid stepped back as the other began to laugh. Then without another word the bigger kid ran quickly towards the other, grabbing Fluffy’s leash and pulled him out across the rocks and into the openness of the beach, calling out as he went, “Let’s see if the dog can fly.” As Sebastian scrambled across the rocks, the older kid began to spin, taking the dog with him, making Fluffy run at first until the poor dog with the itchy ass couldn’t run any longer and his paws left the sand as the young man spun him around and around like an Olympic hammer thrower and moved towards the water, shouting out, “Woooo wooo fly doggy fly.” Then just as the kid made it to the water, Sebastian came running desperately down the beach and slammed his body into the kid just as the kid let go, and sending Fluffy like a small white missile up into the air over the surf and beyond into the dark black water as they both fell into the sand.
Deafened by the sound of the surf and ignoring the kid laughing in his ear, Sebastian picked himself up off the ground and ran without a thought for himself out into the cold pounding surf. Pushing his body through the waves as they hit his groin, punching through the first set then the second as they hit his chest and then the third as they took his feet from the seabed and encased his head in the chilling sea.
Struggling in the darkness Sebastian pulled himself to the surface on the other side of the rushing waves. Out there in the darkness was his dog, swimming or floating on the water and trying to survive—just as he was now. He looked left, then right, then spun around as the swell lifted him up and dipped him back down again as the waves rolled in from the bay.
Then he saw him, his white body laying on the water as it crested on a peak, lit from the city lights miles away in the distance. Sebastian kicked once and then twice, pulling his arms above his head as he swam along in the swell watching his dog appear and reappear in the darkness of the water.
Suddenly, out of breath and gasping for air, he had reached him and was there next to the dog he and Alan had picked out of so many long ago when Fluffy had been a puppy and all had been well in Sebastian’s world. Sebastian straightened his body, steadying himself in the water as the little dog yipped and clawed at his master’s head, desperate for survival, his frightened eyes straining, bulging out of their sockets, as his soaked fur clung to his tiny skull.
*************
Chendrill entered the office at about half an hour past nine and got a ‘who are you and why are you late’ look from Roger, the new producer who used to live with Sebastian. Then just as he was sitting down and looking under the table to see if Mazzi, who had not shaved, was still wearing the plasterer’s boots, he heard the guy say, “If you’re looking for Sebastian he’s not under there, he’s gone home.”
No shit, thanks for the update you cocky fuck, Chendrill thought, as he then stood and turned, opened the door again and left. He was almost out the door when Sebastian’s friend from old caught up with him and holding out his hand to Chendrill said, “I’m sorry I just clued in, are you Chuck?”
Chendrill smiled and, taking the man’s hand said, “Yes, I take it you are Sebastian’s friend.”
“Roger Salmep, pleased to meet you, Sebastian tells me you are a wonderful man and a great detective.”
Chendrill smiled as the thought of what kind of over the top elaborate description Sebastian would have given of him. He said, “Well you know how he can be, don’t believe a word, but if you lose your cat or dog, I’m your man because that’s about as exciting as it gets around here.”
And with those words he saw Roger’s face change, the man looking to the floor for a moment before looking up again and asking, “Has Sebastian not called? He said he would. I’m not sure if you’ve heard but he’s pretty upset, his dog died.”
Chendrill stood there for a moment, not knowing what to say. It was just a dog, yes, but it was what the dog meant to his friend that was the problem. Taking a deep breath, he asked, “What happened?”
Roger stood there, scratching his head, then he said, “I’m not sure, he was here first thing even before me and he was quiet. He has this black bruising around his eye and scratches on his forehead and neck. I asked what had happened and all he’d say was ‘it’s okay,’ then he told me the dog was gone. He was here for a bit but then he left.”
It was just starting to rain as Chendrill drove the Aston quickly along Pacific towards English Bay and nipped through the red on both lights as he went. What the fuck had happened? The man called him every other day with an emergency that was nothing of the sort and then when he loses his dog and is injured, he doesn’t say a word. When he arrived, it was the first question he asked, as he sat at the dining table with Sebastian, discreetly looking to the man’s bruised eye as Sebastian watched as the rain hit the windows. Sebastian waiting for what felt like the longest time until he eventually told him everything from start to finish. The kids cruising by and then coming back to hit him and then him hitting the older one back harder. Sebastian sitting there bolt upright and serious with bloodshot eyes from crying. Chendrill saying with a smile, “And you punched the guy out?”
“Oh, just because I’m gay Chuck doesn’t mean I can’t throw a punch. I used to box at school you know. There’s a lot of tough gay men in this world you know. It’s not just you.”
Chendrill knew that. It wasn’t that long ago he’d taken a Russian one on himself and the man could have very easily killed him. He said, “And because of this he threw your dog into the ocean?”
Sebastian stared at the table, without looking up he said, “Yes, if not for that storm from a few days ago way out in the Pacific making its way here I think he would have been okay.”
“And you went out in it in the dead of night to save your dog—you’re lucky you’re still here,” said Chendrill.
“Am I?” Sebastian said as he looked up at him.
“It’s not your fault or the storm’s that the dog died; it’s the kids’ fault for attacking you and throwing him in the drink.”
“Because I hit him.”
Chendrill thought about it for a bit. The guy i
n his sixties, punching some punk kid then swimming out in a swell, finding the dog and bringing him back in as he swam on his back with one arm cradling the dog, riding the surf as the waves came in one after another until he hit the shore. Only when they reached the beach had he found the dog had stopped breathing. Did the dog drown or had the kid injured it internally? Chendrill wondered.
Sebastian saying straight after as though he could read Chendrill’s mind, “I think he had a heart attack, Chuck.”
Chendrill looked at him and closed his eyes for a second before saying, “Maybe.”
“I think so because he started whimpering and yelping when he was on my chest and then he went still.”
Chendrill looked up and wondered what he was going to do to the kids when he found them. Kids or not they were going to learn a lesson. He said, “I’m sorry Sebastian, I wish I could have been there.”
“Same Chuck, but don’t get a guilt trip going because it’s my fault I pushed myself so hard working late like I did. If I hadn’t, I’d be just getting out of that meeting about now or in my office listening to Roger telling me what a wanker Patrick is.”
Chendrill laughed, the man still coming out with one liners just a few hours after walking to his favourite spot in the park. The man doing so while he was still soaking wet and digging up the dirt next to his favourite tree with his bare hands and burying the one thing he loved more than anything in this world. Sebastian said, “How’s Dan?”
Chendrill laughed for a moment then said, “He’s hurt his dick.”
An hour later, Daltrey was sitting in Sebastian’s living room looking cool with a hat on to cover her hair along with Williams, who was in uniform and trying to be all professional. Williams asked, “Mr. String, did you manage to get a look at their faces?”
He hadn’t, and with the slightest of shakes of his head he told him so. Daltrey spoke for him, “One’s about 14 the other about 18, both have brown hair and are thin in the face, the older one is almost 6’ and the younger is about 5’6.”
“Brothers?” Williams asked.
“Maybe, high chance,” Daltrey replied. “They both wore skate shoes, but so does half the town at their age.”
“How do you know them?” Williams asked at once, feeling even more inferior than he had already been, being in the company of two accomplished detectives.
“Just do,” Daltrey said, “they roll people late at night, drunks and such. If you want to catch them just go for a walk somewhere quiet after 2 a.m. and they’ll probably find you,” and this was exactly what Chendrill had already decided to do.
That same night Chendrill went out, wandering around in the darkness, sitting on benches. Then getting back in the Aston when no one was around and moving to another spot around town where it would be easy to fall victim to a couple of thugs who knew no better than to mug old men and throw their dogs into the sea to drown. Chendrill, out there, sleeping by day and wandering the parks by night, staying away from the normal channels so that no one other than his tight circle would know what he was up to.
Watching, waiting as lovers and drunks came and went and the homeless moved noisily to and from their shelters hidden in bushes and behind walls. Daltrey joining him sometimes in the dead of night, seemingly intuitive as to where he would be and telling him how nice it was to be looking after Sebastian. The young woman liking Sebastian so much after their first meeting and volunteering to cover for Chendrill by day at Slave. This beautiful girl who was still shaken, watching the offices swell in preparation for the film Patrick was producing even though he didn’t know what it was about. The man avoiding Daltrey at all cost and finding ways to leave the office for a writers’ conference once a day so he could talk his way into getting his ass worked.
This time though she’d found Chendrill sitting alone on a log at Sunset beach a mile to the east of Sebastian’s home, and as she sat there next to him closer than maybe she should have been, she felt the night air on her face and heard Chendrill ask, “Sebastian’s friend Roger still riding everyone is he?”
Daltrey nodded and smiled. The man was like a demon and ripping into anyone who fucked up or showed in the slightest that they did not care. She answered, “He is yeah, they start shooting a splinter unit in a couple of days. Sebastian’s in the thick of it, quiet, but smiling.”
Chendrill listened and apart from news with regard to Sebastian he could care less.
“Mazzi Hegan, still got those boots on?”
“They mention his name a lot, but all I hear is that he’s at the studio. Wherever that is.”
Then pausing she said with a big smile, “Rock Mason’s coming in tomorrow.”
Chendrill turning to Daltrey said, “Dan’s mum wants to meet him—if they ask you to pick him up, don’t.”
Daltrey said straight back, “Don’t worry, they tried that, I told them straight—I’m not a taxi. Anyway, I doubt Sebastian would ask. He told me what happened last time.”
Chendrill smiled as he wished he’d done the same straight off the bat, and then laughed as he remembered the ‘Big Director’ getting all red in the face after being told to fuck off—and how Sebastian had stuck up for him. He said, “Yeah Sebastian’s a good man.”
Then she said, “There’s this other man who keeps turning up also, he looks familiar and he’s missing his fingers on his left hand.”
Without looking up, Chendrill said, “He used to play guitar but Sebastian’s going to make him mayor.”
Daltrey smiled, and said, “That’s it. I liked that guy, he did ‘Boom Boom Love’.”
He looked at her sitting there at 3 a.m. on the old log from a different era which had drifted in off the water many decades ago and wondered what Daltrey had been like as a teenager rocking out to Clive in his tight jeans and long hair. Then he wondered what would happen if those kids came along now to roll a couple of late-night lovers and how she would handle it. He asked, “How are you doing, feeling better?”
She was, at least a bit, having been to see a private therapist she knew who loved his wife and was outside the police system. The guy helping her see things for what they were and letting her know it was natural to run and be scared. She’d also been out with the big biker girl and discovered it was natural to run from her also, at least for the moment anyhow. She said, “I’m cool, Chuck—you’ll know when I’m not. Soon I’ll be putting all my efforts into finding the name of this girl who saved me. Once you find these kids, that is.”
Leaning down and picking a stone from the sand, Chendrill said, “If you want I’ll help you with finding out who she was and anything else you need to know.”
Daltrey took a deep breath, it would be good to have the big guy with her when she felt the time was right to go to the morgue and onto the streets after to find who the girl who’d saved her really was, but reality was that it was something she needed to do on her own. She said, “Thanks, but I’ll be fine. I’d hate to take you out of your vigilante phase in life.”
Chendrill smiled. Daltrey wasn’t wrong, it’s exactly what he was doing. He said, “Well, maybe if I’m lucky they’ll find me tonight and mug me.”
Daltrey looked at him and said, “You’re too big, they wouldn’t chance it. It’s a predatory thing remember.”
She wasn’t wrong and deep down Chendrill had known this all along, but there was always that slight chance and one could hope.
He said, “Has Sebastian bought you a car yet? He likes to do that.”
Daltrey smiled and leaned back on the bench. Saying, “No, but he hinted at it, we went for a spin in my Audi after work the other day and he asked if I’d seen the new ones. I doubt he will though, not with the two Ferraris he bought Dan and Mazzi Hegan sitting in the pound.”
Chendrill looked at her and smiled, then he said, “I wondered why you’d come to see me at this hour.”
“Yeah there’s something I think you should see.”
They cruised along McGill Street in the Audi. The gate was down in th
e entrance to the compound where the tow trucks dropped off their hauls before heading off to do their duty for the common man. The two Ferraris were now together at the front of the lot for everyone to see, lit with work lights from either side as though they were in a showroom. The guy who’d brought them both in was in the office now, using his neck for a pillow and looking at his phone, waiting around the clock to collect the $110 fee per car for releasing them from his clutches and for the opportunity to say ‘fuck you’ to Chendrill when he did.
As they watched from the other side of the street, Chendrill said, “Fuck me, what a loser.” Daltrey smiled, Sebastian had told her all about the letters and calls he’d been getting ever since Chendrill had first skipped the barrier and not paid the release fee each time the Ferrari got towed. Now the pricks had two.
Chendrill laughed to himself, the guy was going all out this time—even working the night shift, it seemed, so he could keep an eye on the cars that were, for the moment, now his.
Big Carl the tow truck driver flipped the phone app and swiped ‘like’ for every new single girl on there with white skin, who he hoped would respond to his initial approach and his new profile showing the wannabe Angel standing next to both Ferrari’s with their doors open. None would, unless they were insane—which is exactly what his wife was when he’d married her, but she was at home now doing exactly the same swiping right as he was but getting a better response because of the cleavage she was showing.
He looked at his two Ferraris out there in the night, sitting all lit up with pride in the centre of the pound, the pictures of him hauling both into the yard stuck on the wall next to the window with ‘Fuck U 1’ and ‘Fuck U 2’ written under each for everyone to see, especially the prick with the shirts whenever he came down to pick the things up.
Out back he heard the engine start on the big wrecker tow truck they used for bringing in heavy goods vehicles when they broke down. The towing company charging it out at $500 a pop for the privilege. Where the fuck was the truck that had broken down and needed a tow? he thought.