My Best Friend's Bucket List: Volume One

by Shane Grey

CHAPTER 13

  Boris And Me

  (twenty-four hour dilemma)

  (Elsa Spotnik returns from the dead)

  There were a few moments in my life where I said, “What the fuck?” They were rare times. Some things just happened and that was life. Like the first time we became obsessed with a girl.

  I think I was in third grade. Her name was Mayra. She had pale skin, red hair, freckles and she resembled the nosy neighbor from Small Wonder. I wanted her.

  At that point I did not know what true WANT was. I did not even know the concept of NEED. The NEED for a drink. The NEED for a smoke. The NEED for a fix of drugs. Even the NEED for sexual release.

  Wait, I think it goes back even farther.

  Her name was Kelsey. I won't describe her because it would be creepy and my memory is a little foggy. I was five years old, maybe six, maybe seven. Definitely one of those three. You know how now it all seems the same?

  Kelsey was my first kiss. She was a year or two older than me. Her mom and my mom would get drunk together in the middle of the day. That would leave us two unattended. We took full advantage of it. It is a miracle we were never killed.

  We stole money to buy ice cream and toys from the smelly middle eastern cat that drove the scary truck. We made mud pies. We used to hide in the bushes and throw rocks at cars that were driving by. We would play in the sprinklers. Throw rocks at black widow nests and wasps as well. It really is a miracle that we were never even injured.

  One day we were sitting behind a mulberry bush that covered part of the house. Before the bush had grown years before someone had built a long wooden bench into the side of the house, so the bush grew in front of it. We were completely camouflaged there.

  We used to just sit and watch the streets, wait for the ice cream man, or hide from our mothers, if they were too drunk and mad. Kelsey looked at me funny that day, I returned her stare, my guts bubbled and I was nervous. She kissed me very lightly on the lips. She smelled like dirt and cookies. I was frozen in shock.

  My heart jumped, I grabbed her face and pulled her to my lips. Just like I had seen in the movies. We kissed a bunch that day. Every time we returned to our bench behind the mulberry bush we would kiss. This all happened in the span of a day. Then by the end of the day it was clear I was more interested in kissing than playing. Kelsey didn't want to return to our place behind the bush anymore. And I began to resent her. She resented me.

  I doubt that night when she left with her mother that she told her mom anything. But for some reason I never did see Kelsey again. It made me sad. But in a weird way at the time. Days later my mom had just got off the phone and stormed into the living room. She screamed at me and shook a fist in my face.

  Kelsey had told her mother everything.

  My mother cussed me out something fierce. Threatened me. Made me terrified to even talk to girls anymore. Maybe that was why I never did approach Mayra. I was scared my mom would find out or that I would do something wrong and she would tell on me.

  So I was on the wagon. I had had my first female encounter, but mom made sure I was scared of girls. Then one day we were at a different friend of moms house. She had a daughter that was two years younger then me. I was maybe nine or ten.

  This may sound cliché and I don't know where this originated or how I knew what to say. But I asked this little blonde girl in the pink dress if she wanted to play doctor. I will spare you all the details. But she said yes.

  I figured my mom bringing me to this place where there was another girl was her way of letting me off the leash. Let's just say the blonde never said a word and seemed to enjoy our time together. I mean, I don't know what she talks to her therapist about, but I assume that has to come up.

  All those events were a mere prologue to a deviant and perverted life. Since then I have been in love with the idea of being in love. When a girl allows me to sleep with her and I have feelings or an interest in her, I sometimes have the tendency to get possessive.

  I think that's what happened when Lorrie Lovitt and me were about to get physical. Sure, Maria had drained me, but it was Lorrie. She was the one I really wanted. I think my dick was scared of getting attached to Lorrie's veejay. Not literally but emotionally.

  Lorrie would have to wait because I had a very unhappy and unmedicated Russian mob boss in my apartment...

  My buzz was wearing thin. I was standing in the living of my apartment. A large Russian mob boss named Boris Spotnik sat on my sofa. He seemed to be making himself at home. His four larger henchmen stood off to the side. They were scary looking mothers.

  “Okay. You tell me last time you see, Elsa.” Boris said. I could see the insanity behind his eyes and the pure coldness. This guy had hurt and killed a lot of people, some even women and children. It was all there in his eyes. No disguise or poncho.

  “Uh, well,” I said, trying to buy time. The last thing I wanted to tell him was the last time I had seen Elsa Spotnik she was floating dead in a swimming pool. In a swimming pool at the party/Rager that I threw. “I had seen her at the party, she was just mingling.”

  “Mingling? What is that?”

  “Networking. Talking.” Sweat was forming on my brow.

  “I see.” Boris thought on this for a moment.

  “I need a drink.” I said. Two of the four henchmen rushed a few steps forward. “Take it easy guys, I'm on your side.”

  Boris said something to them in Russian and they relaxed.

  “Go make drink.” Boris said. “Bring me one.”

  “I only have bourbon and Mountain Dew Pitch Black, maybe Yager.”

  “Ugh. I don't care. Any one is good. Just alcohol.” He said.

  I went into the kitchen, took a can of Dew Black out of the fridge, found a bottle of Jack Daniels and half a bottle of Yager. The choice was going to be complex.

  Do I make a Yager with Dew Black(which tastes like angel tears)? Or do I bring Boris the Yager straight up and mix the Dew Black with the Jack(which would taste less good)? Or do I just bring him a glass of Jack?

  “Dude. Give him the Yager.” Said the voice of Dick. He was standing beside me, still dead. Bleeding from his throat and stomach.

  “How the hell do I know if Russians like Yager?” I whispered to my invisible best friend.

  “Yager is German, right?”

  “Yeh, so?”

  “Aren't they like close or something? Like really close?” Dick said.

  “I failed geography.” I said. Footsteps approached from behind.

  “WHO the FUCK are YOU talking TOO?” Boris asked. Two henchmen stood behind him.

  “I was singing. A song.” I said.

  “What soda is that? It is strange.” Boris said, fascinated.

  “It's Limited Edition Mountain Dew Pitch Black. It goes great with Yager.” I said. I was sweating again.

  “Hmphf! Pour me one. I tell if this is good.” He said. I cracked the last can of Dew Black, grabbed my favorite cup(a green Scooby Doo cup), iced the Yager then added the Dew Black. The smell made me salivate.

  I handed Boris the plastic cup. He sniffed it. Scoffed at the smell. Then, carefully, took a small sip. He stared at me with what I deduced was anger. Then he smiled like Satan.

  “BKYCHO!” Boris exclaimed. Then he drained the glass. “Quite delicious! MORE!”

  I poured him more and sipped off the bottle of Jack. We sat on sofa. He sent his guys away. I drank fast.

  Boris said, “Listen to me. I followed you from party. I know you saw Elsa, she is quite hard to miss, my friend. I know you know where Cloud Nine Tablets are.”

  “I actually don't-”

  “Listen! You know this Tommy, my men saw you with him all night, he is too old to be a school chum or something like it.” Boris sipped more of his drink. “Who is he?”

  “I don't know. I met him at the party.” I lied. I was not about to tell this psycho that Tommy was my Uncle.

  “Fine. He sold Cloud Nine tablets. Elsa got him in on deal. This man
has a lot of money worth of Cloud Nine. If you know who the man is, you must tell me.” Boris smiled, his smile melted my insides. He was a scary fucking cat.

  “I don't know him.” I said. Boris stared at me like he was going to cut my throat and in that moment I thought he might.

  “Listen. You know more than you say. Maybe you in on deal too? Maybe no? Now that does not matter. I consider the missing Cloud Nine tablets your payment. You find my Elsa, you bring her back here, we leave, you keep tablets.” He paused to take a drink. “You don't find Elsa. You don't help. I don't care about tablets and I kill you. Slowly. Painfully.” He smiled and finished his drink. “Clear?” He said.

  “Yes. Very clear.” I said.

  “Good. You have twenty-four hours.” He said. I looked at the clock, it was 3:12am. “I must know this. Who is Murrey Weinstein?”

  “He owns the house the party was at.” I said.

  “Is he friend of you?”

  “No, I haven't seen him ever. I just knew the name because the guy at the party told me.” I said.

  “Hope you are telling truth.” Boris said.

  “Can I take a nap before I go out to find Elsa?” I asked. Boris laughed.

  “We both need rest. Couch looks good. I take bed and bedroom.”

  That night I slept on the couch and realized I was going to need some resemblance of a plan. I thought of Lorrie Lovitt, I hoped she was not completely hating me. I had managed to get throat deep in shit, there was no sign that this dilemma was going to get worked out.

  “Dude, Elsa Spotnik is dead.” Dick said. He was sitting cross legged on the floor.

  “I know, but I have to do something.”

  “Dude, you can't bring her back.” Dick said. And the wheels in my head started spinning. Crazy parts of insane plans began to form. Then I drifted off into an awesome slumber. Lorrie Lovitt danced in my head.

  The next day I awoke to the sound of laughter. Joyous laughter. The kind that awakes a heavy sleeper like me. The laughter belonged to Boris Spotnik. It was coming from the bathroom.

  I got up and put on a pot of boiling water for instant coffee. The laughter continued. I couldn't help it anymore. I went to take a look.

  The bathroom door was open. Boris Spotnik was in a bubble bath, two henchmen were at his side. One scrubbed his back, the other scrubbed the bottom of his feet with my electric toothbrush. Boris laughed from the tickling.

  I left them to it. I rinsed my mouth out with coffee. Then had a whole cup of coffee with cream and sugar. Boris came out of the bathroom and was finally ready to let me use the can.

  “Morning, Comrade.” Boris said, jovially.

  “Yeh.” I said.

  I finished up in the bathroom, avoiding the tooth brush. Got dressed for a day of finding a dead girl. It was simple because Elsa was dead. There needed to be a plan. And I had one.

  I made a cup of instant coffee. Boris sat on my sofa, his two favorite henchmen at his side. The other two were gone, I assumed they were just extra muscle.

  “What do you do around here all day?” Boris asked me. I sipped the coffee gingerly, acid rolled in my stomach.

  “There's an Xbox right there. A collection of DVD's. I have cable and On Demand.” I said. Boris stared at me with his stare.

  “I never watch TV. I did not ever allow, Elsa to watch or play video game. Is American garbage.”

  “Maybe that's why she ran off.” I said, irritated, before I had a chance to catch myself.

  “What?” Boris said, then stood up. He rushed toward me, henchmen in tow. He stopped right in front of me, face to face. “Say again?” He said.

  “I'm just saying, maybe, she was too sheltered as a kid?” I said, sweating.

  “Why are American's always sweating?” He said. Then with a right open palm Boris slapped me like a bitch. My jerked and instantly began to throb. His hand was like a boxing gloved full of bricks. “Don't say shit about my Elsa, never.”

  “My bad.” I said, rubbing my head.

  “You have until noon tomorrow to bring me Elsa, or I kill you.” Boris reminded.

  “I'm going.” I grabbed the keys to my uncle's Mustang, left the apartment.

  In the small house behind a rather large two story house, I sat in an easy chair. The small house was built more tall then wide. The reason was so it could house a very large TV. The house had a soda machine. A snack machine. Bunk beds in the corner. One bathroom. Three easy chairs.

  Two of the easy chairs were occupied by Jack and Jeff Davis. They played Contra on Nintendo. They both wore plain black t-shirts, torn blue jeans, faded Converse All Stars. Both wore their long jet black hair in pony tails.

  Without looking away from the game, Jack spoke, “How can will help you Mr. Sawyer?”

  Jeff Said, “Yes, Mr. Tuck, how will we help you?”

  “You guy's are good with computers. I need you to find me a woman.” I said. The two brothers laughed hysterically and even dropped their controllers, but not before pausing the game.

  “Mr. Sawyer, We laugh at you!” Jack said, still laughing.

  “Laugh at you is what we do, Mr. Tuck!” Jeff said, his eyes in tears. I leaned forward in my seat.

  “What the fuck is so funny?” I asked, still pissed from Boris smacking me.

  “Mr. Sawyer, there is no disrespect behind our laughter, I assure you. There are many woman on the internet, but none you can touch.” Jack said.

  “None will let you touch, Mr. Tuck.” Jeff said.

  “Listen, guys, this is a serious situation and I have money.” I said, low and serious. They broke into laughter yet again.

  “We all have money Mr. Sawyer. What you are referring to is illegal activity know as prostitution.” Jack said.

  “Prostitution is illegal, Mr. Tuck.” Jeff said.

  “I need you to help me research a person, well, a woman.” I said, ignoring their comments.

  “Who might this person be Mr. Sawyer?” Jack said.

  “Who is she Mr. Tuck?” Jeff said.

  “Elsa Spotnik.” I said. The brothers looked confused, then worried, then they broke into laughter.

  “You came here Mr. Sawyer to mock us or possibly entertain us through comedy?” Jack said.

  “You must do this more Mr. Tuck.” Jeff said.

  “What?”

  “Elsa Spotnik Mr. Sawyer? Bad girl daughter of Russian mob boss Boris Spotnik? You want to research her?” Jeff said.

  “You want to research Youtube bad girl Elsa Spotnik, Mr. Tuck?”

  “What the fuck? You guys know who she was?” I asked.

  “She is only Russia's answer to Paris Hilton, Mr. Sawyer. What more do you need to know?” Jack said.

  “Russia's Paris, indeed, Mr. Tuck.” Jeff said.

  Now that I knew that, my plan seemed feasible. I was coming together nicely. But the brothers needed convincing.

  “Check it out. Elsa Spotnik is dead. She died in a pool at a party I threw. She OD'd on a drug called Cloud Nine sold by her father, Boris Spotnik. He is currently residing at my apartment and he has given me twenty-four hours to bring him Elsa.” I said, exhausted. “He thinks and wants Elsa to be alive.”

  “Wow. This dilemma is intense.” Jack said.

  “Your dilemma is intense.” Jeff said.

  Now they both seemed scared and they staggered around their equipment. At some point Jack had a keyboard in his lap and he brought up Google searches. The big screen TV was now our computer screen.

  “We don't have time guys, but we need a woman now.” I said serious.

  “How will yet another woman help this situation, Mr. Sawyer?” Jack said.

  “Another woman will not help, Mr. Tuck.” Jeff said. I looked at the two brothers. I probably looked insane.

  “I need to find a girl on the internet that is for hire. A girl that is maybe an ex-actress. I need her to have a strong resemblance to Elsa Spotnik. Is it clear to YOU both? DOES THAT MAKE SENSE?! I'LL FUCKING PAY YOU!” I looked at the time on my
BlackBerry and sighed. “We have nineteen hours to find a woman and turn her into Elsa Spotnik.”

  I fell into the comfy easy chair and nodded off despite the stress of the situation...

  I'm driving down the highway on my way to an potential clients house. She'd called and gave me her address in regards to a murder to investigate. I'm a Private Investigator. The best in the business. Fat paid. Known for my accuracy.

  I arrive at the dames place. She answers the door and asks me to have a seat. I do just that.

  “What is this case about?” I ask. The girls prepares drinks at the built in bar, complete with stools.

  “What kind of drink do you like? Detective?” She said.

  “Seven and Seven on the rocks.” I say.

  She joins me on the couch. Hands me my drink. I don't take a drink of it just yet.

  “So what happened? How can I be of service?” I say. The dame starts up in tears. She cries and says her sister was poisoned. Due to jealousy. The dame was more popular. The sister, my client, was the geek of the bunch.

  So it didn't make sense for the geek to remain and the popular one to parish at the hands of poison. But for some reason as I took a sip of the drink she made me, something about it seems funny in the taste...

  “MR. SAWYER! WAKE NOW!” Came the voice of Jack. I shot up out of the chair, drool on my chin. Confused.

  “What the fuck?!” I shouted.

  “You paid us to research Elsa Spotnik and find a replacement, Mr. Sawyer.” Jack said.

  “We found a replacement, Mr. Tuck.” Said Jeff. Reality slowly came back to me.

  “Who is she?” I asked.

  “According to our reply she is on her way.” Jack said.

  “On her way is she.” Said Jeff.

  “Good. Where did you find her?” I asked.

  “Craigslist dot com. That is where Mr. Sawyer. We posted an ad.” Said Jack.

  “An ad we posted via Craigslist.” Said Jeff.

  “Can I see footage of Elsa Spotnik so I know what decision to make?” I said. The next half hour was full of Youtube video footage of the real Elsa Spotnik running a muck in clubs and bars. Showing her clam and nip slips. It seemed sad knowing she was dead and not coming back. I felt bad for Boris. His only daughter.

  After an hour of Elsa Spotnik footage, via Youtube. I anxiously awaited the arrival of the look-a-like replacement. This would work. Nothing could screw this up.

  Then the door to their small house was being knocked on. The girl at the door resembled her so much. But she wore a torn Operation Ivy t-shirt, tattoos, and fish net stockings.

  I wanted to cry.

  Her name was Cameron Clay. She was an Elsa Spotnik impersonator. I figured she was there for acceptance. To be the next big thing. She was going to need work.

  But after she changed into her Elsa clothes and worked on the accent, my stress went away. She glowed and I believed she was it.

  “What are your goals as an actress?” I asked.

  “To be Elsa Spotnik.” She replied.

  “How do you plan on doing that?” I asked.

  “To take her place.” Cameron said.

  “O.K. She'll do just fine.” I said to Jack and Jeff. Her make-up, demeanor was perfect.

  I entered my apartment with Cameron Clay/Elsa Spotnik in tow. Boris and his henchmen stood up. Me and Cameron/Elsa stepped inside. Boris scoffed and sat down. I shut the front door behind me. Cameron/Elsa entered.

  “I'm back.” I said.

  “Hey, daddy!” Cameron said running to Boris. He put his head down, as if knowing some secret. She hugged him. He hugged her and squeezed her. I was proud of the family connection. Boris had bought it. Life was good.

  Then, he looked at me funny. He asked the daughter, Cameron Clay, to let him know.

  “What happen?” He asked.

  “Nothing. I want to leave, so I did.” Said Cameron Clay, in a very good Russian accent.

  “You are not yourself.” Boris said.

  “You can't control me forever.” Cameron said.

  “True. You can't control her forever.” I said.

  “Where is my little girl?” Boris asked, pissed, he pushed Cameron aside, he placed a gun to my forehead.

  “Daddy, it's me. I am your Elsa. I am sorry I refuse to speak your language of Russia, but I am Americanized now.” Elsa/Cameron said.

  I looked at Boris and even though he had a gun to my head, he had a tear in his cold eyes. He wiped it fast and pulled back the hammer on the gun.

  “I did the best I could, Boris.” I said.

  “Maybe yes, maybe no...”

  “I'm sorry, Boris, really.” I said. Boris looked me in the eye and it was clear what I was sorry about.

  Boris pulled the trigger, but it clicked on an empty chamber.

  “You did good, comrade.” He smiled that eerie grin. “Come now, Elsa, time to re-learn the ways of Russia, again.” Boris said.

  I smiled at the girl named Cameron Clay, the Hollywood native with plans to be an actress, she had just gotten the role of her life. Daughter to Russian Mob Boss. With chances to screw up.

  The next day Lorrie Lovitt rang my bell. The door bell, that is. It was 3am. I had a slight buzz. I was watching season one of Breaking Bad. The initial sound startled me. I answered the door, startled.

  Lorrie Lovitt stood in the doorway in yellow Beatles Pj's. Yellow Submarine. Pants and top. Her slender frame hugged tightly. She stared at me. My soul burned.

  “What are you doing?” Lorrie asked.

  “Watching Breaking Bad.” I said. “Come in.” I said.

  Lorrie came in and sat on the sofa next to me. I joined her and continued the show. Within five minutes Lorrie Lovitt had her mouth on my penis. She did her thing very well. But when it was done and we were cuddling, I felt she was mine. Then I was erect again and this time I was on top of her. We kissed and squeezed each other. I let loose all the passion I had held back.

  The next day, we were physically exhausted. We slept the day away. Me and her being relaxed for the first time in weeks.

  Lorrie Lovitt was mine forever and could never talk to anyone again. Only me. That was legitimate, right?

  Stay Tuned for Volume 2 COMING SOON!

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