Party Time_Raving Arizona

by Shaun Attwood

  G Dog removes the gag, slowly, cautiously, as if ready to put it back on at the slightest sound.

  Emphasising each word, I ask, ‘Did you fuck my wife?’ I pace over Vince. Sparks. Crackling. Explosions. Howling.

  Sobbing, he says, ‘Please don’t kill me, Shaun.’ Urine darkens the crotch of his jeans.

  For days, all I’ve thought about is hurting Vince, returning the pain I blame on him, but seeing how afraid he is, I’m losing heart.

  ‘Shaun, please don’t kill me. Please don’t kill me, Shaun. Please—’

  ‘If you tell me the truth, things will remain calm. Did you fuck my wife?’

  Vince shudders.

  ‘Answer the fucking question!’ Crackle. Sizzle. Zzzzzz …

  A Maglite strikes his torso. ‘Yeah. But it wasn’t my fault, Shaun. She came on to me.’

  ‘Maybe she did! But even so, what the fuck were you thinking fucking your boss’s wife?!’ I yell.

  He cries, shivers.

  ‘Look, Vince. Do you understand you brought this upon yourself?’

  ‘Yes, yes. I fucked up big time. I was high. I didn’t—’ Shuddering, sobbing, he mumbles.

  ‘What you did is so serious – and I’m also talking about you lying about those pills you said were stolen – I could have gone to G Dog’s brothers over this. But I feel what’s happened today cancels what you did. If you feel it doesn’t, and you get the urge to go to the cops, then I’ll be forced to escalate things very quickly between us.’

  ‘If you go to the cops, motherfucker,’ G Dog says, prodding Vince’s Adam’s apple with a Maglite, ‘you know where you’re gonna end up.’

  ‘I ain’t going to no cops,’ Vince says. ‘Look, Shaun, I’m sorry. I fucked up. I’ll make it up to you any way I can.’

  ‘Gag him back up and tie him to a chair,’ I say.

  Vince doesn’t struggle.

  ‘I ought to have done much worse to you, Vince.’ I put on a baseball cap and sunglasses.

  ‘Let’s go before the cops come,’ I say.

  We leave briskly, wearing hats, heads bowed. We turn at a corner of the building.

  A security guard appears from nowhere and tries to block us. ‘What’s going on in there?’

  Tilting my face away from him, I mutter, ‘Nothing.’ I swerve around him, my footsteps and heartbeat accelerating. He rushes to the apartment we came from.

  Jaxson jumps on his motorcycle and speeds away. G Dog and I scramble into the truck. Convinced the cops are coming, I drive off, my body tense, my arms as rigid as the steering column, my eyes scanning every direction. Pumped up, I’m ready to leap from the truck and run if the cops stop us – in which case the owner of the truck will report it stolen. Each approaching vehicle spikes my tension until I see it’s not a cop car.

  As I drive onto the freeway, G Dog says, ‘Cops won’t catch us now.’

  I call Cody, tell him to drive by Tulips’ to see what’s going on and to ensure Vince gets medical treatment.

  Thirty minutes later, Cody calls: ‘I got up there and the place is crawling with cops. They took him out on a stretcher and put him in an ambulance.’

  Shit! A stretcher. How injured is he? Will he snitch? Even if he doesn’t, the cops will investigate the crime. At least word will spread to Skinner. Will Skinner back off or try something else?

  G Dog asks to be dropped off at his brother’s. It’s night-time when we arrive. The street is blacked out, as if suffering a power cut. With light sticks, men in black uniforms are directing traffic. I see federal agents in SWAT armour swarming Raul’s house, and some men, including Carlos the Torturer, in handcuffs. Two Tempe cops stare at us. I don’t stop.

  ‘Damn!’ G Dog says, shaking his head. ‘They were out on bail and now they’re all in jail. Those motherfuckers are looking at some serious time.’ I drop G Dog off at a hotel and head home.

  Later on, I’m tormented by the day’s events. I take Xanax, but can’t sleep. My mind replays what we did to Vince. Regretting the violence, a kind of hangover sets in. I recall Carlos torturing the naked hog-tied man, and how afraid I was. Today, I acted just like Carlos. I’ve crossed a line. The raid at Raul’s is worrying. What if the Feds know I’m Raul’s Ecstasy supplier? The wolves say, Forget about all that shit. You need to get higher than ever at the next rave.

  Chapter 52

  It’s party time. Take me higher. Never come down. Fuck Amy for moving out. Fuck Vince and Skinner. I’m still on top of my game. I’m English Shaun. Who cares if I die? Numb the pain.

  In a limo. Tonnes of drugs. Ecstasy. Special K. GHB. LSD. Magic mushrooms. Cocaine. Crystal meth. Glass. Valium. Xanax. Somas. Uppers. Downers. Acid Joey. G Dog. Grady. Jaxson. One of my Ecstasy dealers, Q, and his friend, Billy the Hippy. Two glitter girls in sexy punk clothes who I just met today. Blonde Samantha. Native American Aubrey. Nice contrast. We devour drugs. Crackle. Sizzle. Zzzzzz … Mix them up. Take more. Electrical storm: Crackle. Sizzle. Zzzzzz … Glitter girls kissing, I notice. Pale skin against bronze. Mmmm …

  Our chauffeur: Larry. An open-minded motherfucker from the south side. Won’t call the cops on us like the last jerk-off. Larry parks at the Icehouse: Swell’s annual Musik rave. Glitter girls out, legs first, heels and thigh highs drawing all eyes. Black and white and outrageous attire. The effect I hoped for. Getting out: presenting English Shaun and his bodyguard, G Dog. I pause for attention. Stretch. Lungs fill to capacity, feasting on warm air. Jaw juts: wolf inside coming alive. Behind Kieselsteins, my eyes assess the crowd. My people. Cut the queue to the door, G Dog in tow, foaming at the mouth, meth-crazed, his prison-hardened gaze probably probing for shanks.

  ‘These are all with me!’ I announce.

  ‘English Shaun plus eight!’ My entourage hand-stamped in for free. Everyone watching. Bubbles of joy fizzing in my brain. I’m still on top.

  Inside. The artificial world jolts G Dog’s eyes. A mirrored mosaic disco ball bathes us in multicoloured light. Wall-to-wall bodies, stomping like rain-dancing Navajos. Glow sticks and strings, pockets of moving colour and light. High on more than the atmosphere, the DJ – one ear to a headphone, the other free and listening, spray bottle on hand – is working decks displayed on plain foldable tables, powered by a black snake of a cable.

  Ravers flock to me. I am on top of this world. I open my arms, hug them, feel safe. My people. G Dog shoves two ravers away.

  ‘It’s all right, G Dog,’ I say.

  ‘What a trip,’ he says.

  ‘Don’t trip. These are my friends.’

  ‘I automatically think they wanna fight. I gotta stop myself.’

  ‘It’s OK, man. You’ve been up for days.’

  ‘Yeah.’

  ‘Try varying your drugs. Take some X.’ I hand him a pill. ‘Relax. Tune into the music. You’ll be like everyone else in no time. C’mon, let’s explore, bro. This is just one room.’

  Sideways, shoulders first, we slice through the crowd. We swerve around a cuddle puddle: a circle of ravers massaging each other’s backs, some sniffing Vicks inhalers.

  Next room. Fashion show. A stage lit pink and blue by filtered spotlights fixed to metal ladder structures. A woman struts on the runway in a tight shirt with silver flames, a jacket dangling from her elbows, blue leopard print with combed white plush drooping from the bottom, bright-pink patent vinyl trousers completing the look. Primo walks on in a white suit hand-painted with orange and green stripes and spots, his torso naked and hairless, carrying a tray with glasses and a pitcher patio set, 7-inch-thick platform heels on circus shoes, with grey vacuum cleaner tubes spiralling around his ankles. A woman in a white faux-rabbit-fur bolero crop jacket over nude breasts sashays with strength and confidence, a Betty Boop tattoo peeking out of white thong panties, curves dressing her up.

  Starting to bob his head, G Dog stares, smiles.

  Yes! Cheery brain bubbles. ‘Welcome to my world!’ But as the words come out, I’m seized by a premonition of losing my grip on the rave scene. I
shudder. What the fuck? Take more drugs. GHB. ‘C’mon, let’s go back to the limo.’

  With the VIPs of the drug scene in my limo and free drugs being doled out, the queue to get inside is longer than the one for the rave. We squeeze in. Aubrey going down on Samantha. Nice. Acid Joey snorts a line of Special K, raises himself through the moonroof and, in a demonic voice, warns that it’s the end of the world. To be as high as him! I’ll get there.

  ‘Snort some CK1,’ says Q to our chauffeur. Q’s big glazed eyes are peeping from under long brown hair.

  ‘What the fuck’s CK1?’ Larry asks.

  ‘Coke and ketamine,’ Q says.

  ‘Coke is boring on its own,’ I say. Crackle. Sizzle. Zzzzzz. Howl.

  Larry abandons the cabin. Get him fucked up. Larry joins us in the back and snorts a line. ‘Larry, you might as well try some GHB, too,’ I say. ‘Here, drink a cap.’ I’m the devil. He will love it.

  ‘Might as well.’ Larry sips the GHB. ‘Damn. That shit tastes foul.’

  ‘It’s saltier than come,’ Aubrey says.

  I can’t stop laughing, even though I’m drooling. Crackle. Sizzle. Zzzzzz. Howl. ‘Chase it with this quickly.’ I hand Larry a fruity drink.

  Twenty minutes later, Larry tries to rise but falls. He stammers: ‘Q, you guys are off the fucking hook. I’m gonna have to call out another limo driver. I’m too fucked up to drive.’

  ‘Yes!’ I yell, raising the bottle of GHB. ‘Here’s to toppling Larry the limo driver. I’m pleased to announce we have brought our chauffeur down to our filthy level. We truly are the scum of the earth.’ They cheer. They still love me. Crackle. Sizzle. Zzzzzz. Howl.

  A female chauffeur arrives. Everyone transfers to her limo except for me, Samantha and Larry.

  ‘Let’s do it in the limo,’ Samantha says. ‘Lie down.’

  ‘Oh, yes please.’ I look at Larry, too messed-up to move.

  ‘It’s cool with me,’ Larry whispers.

  I sniff Samantha’s neck, vigorously, as if trying to vacuum up skin flakes. Penis pushes against zipper. Crackle. Sizzle. Zzzzzz. Howl.

  ‘You should stay and watch us, Larry,’ Samantha says, pulling off my pants.

  Samantha’s tongue tickles my penis. My jaw elongates – wolf libido rising – straining the bone joint. My lower lip quivers. My eyeballs roll backwards in sync with her mouth strokes. I close my eyes. My world will not slip away. Fuck Skinner! Fuck Vince. ‘Ooh, that’s good.’

  Larry gazes, body dead, eyes alive, catatonic.

  Samantha stops. Coolness. My eyes lock onto her dark hold-ups and pale thighs. I yank the red G-string from under her tartan skirt. She squats. I moan – louder than usual for Larry’s benefit. I’m still on top … Close my eyes. Howl. Lost. The tangle of legs, drugs. I leave earth. Vince. Skinner. Amy. Pain. Wet warm strokes. Up and down. My eyeballs bobbing like wine-bottle corks on pond ripples. Too high to climax, we ditch Larry for limo two.

  Acid Joey’s face is contorting, his body shifting, squirming, next to G Dog whom he’s too high to recognise. We take off for Billy the Hippy’s house party. G Dog blows bubbles. Acid Joey climbs through the moonroof, threatening to leap to his death. We grab his legs, rein him in. He yells about his hatred of frogs and birds and makes jokes about dead cats in freezers.

  ‘I have pets,’ Billy the Hippy whispers. ‘I don’t want Acid Joey coming to my house in this state of mind. You have to do something, Shaun.’

  ‘It’s just high talk. I’ll watch him. He’s more sensible these days. He has a good job at MindSpring. He’s a functional, recreational drug user, just like the rest of us.’

  ‘No. Please, Shaun, let’s not take him to my house like this.’

  I tap on the divide and ask the driver to take us to an apartment I rent. We stumble out. Acid Joey forward-rolls. I love his antics!

  Turned on, I usher Q, Samantha and Aubrey into a bedroom. Trance music. We wobble on the waterbed. I swig GHB and pass the bottle to Q, pushing thoughts of Vince, Amy and Skinner further away. The girls undress. My nostrils flare – wolf devouring their scent, sweat, perfume, pheromones. More GHB. Less Vince, Amy, Skinner … Girls kissing. GHB. Bring out the wolf. GHB. Girls fondling each other. My kind of art.

  Samantha kisses Q. Here we go. Aubrey unbuttons my pants. We’ll do it side by side, everyone getting off on everyone else. GHB floods my brain, washing away the crackle, sizzle, zzzzzz, howl. Shit! Stay awake! Need speed! Aubrey’s fingers find my penis. Double vision. My head lolls back. As she puts my penis in her mouth, I pass out.

  Chapter 53

  Inside my Tucson apartment, I’m feeling sick – coming down after weeks of partying – when my friend housing Wild Woman and the newly arrived Wild Man calls, demanding I take them elsewhere because of the fighting and property damage. ‘And on top of all that,’ she says, ‘Wild Man was trying to lure Skinner over to kill him – in my place!’

  I need to send them to Mexico ASAP. If he kills Skinner, the cops will be all over us. I pack a bag and drive there.

  Wild Woman answers. ‘Wild Man said he was going to the shop, but I wouldn’t be surprised if he’s gone for Skinner.’

  ‘I know. That’s one of the reasons I’m here,’ I say, entering the apartment.

  ‘The red dots are telling him to kill Skinner and bury him in the desert and all that stuff. He’s also saying you were trying to hook me up with Vince in the flat. He’s jealous of Vince, and he thinks you and Vince have arranged to take him out to the desert, too, so I can hook up with Vince. He’s not slept since he got back to America. He’s been doing meth every day.’

  Wild Man arrives, eyeing me strangely. ‘Hello, la’.’

  I hug him and say in a serious tone, ‘Look, la’, here’s why I’m here. ’Cause of Wild Woman’s bust, our attorney thinks you two shouldn’t be setting foot in Tempe. You’d be much safer out of Arizona. Cody’s going to run you to Rocky Point. He’s got money to get you a monthly rental down there.’

  ‘I ain’t going,’ Wild Man says, frowning. ‘I need to take care of Skinner first.’

  ‘Mexico is the smart thing to do right now, la’. Not Skinner.’

  Wild Man fumes.

  ‘Shaun’s right,’ Wild Woman says. ‘I was raided. We’ve got to go. You’ve just got back in town. If you go and do something stupid to Skinner, they’re gonna have you, and this time they won’t just send you to England, you’re gonna end up in prison for the rest of your life.’

  ‘What if you need me to handle a situation up here?’ Wild Man lights a crystal-meth pipe and inhales, expanding his chest.

  ‘You’re just a short drive away in Mexico. I’ll send someone for you. It’s a holiday town on the Sea of Cortez, and there’s a beach, and you can rent jet-skis. From now on, I want our smugglers who land at Hermosillo to be transported to Rocky Point with the pills. In Rocky Point, we’ll switch the pills to somebody else, who’ll cross the border. It’ll be an important base of operations for our smugglers.’

  Wild Man exhales a thick funnel of smoke. ‘Mexico sounds all right, la’, but I need to take that fucking punk Skinner out to the desert first.’

  ‘We’re not getting into the murder business,’ I say. ‘Wild Woman’s bust’s enough heat as it is.’

  ‘I’m not getting you into the murder business,’ Wild Man says. ‘This is personal. He tried to set fire to my woman. It has nothing to do with business or you.’

  ‘The Skinner business will have to wait. Cody’s on his way over here.’

  Cody houses the Wild Ones in Rocky Point, where cellphones don’t work, so I have no way to contact them. A month later, Cody goes to pay their rent and shows up at my apartment distraught. ‘The house has been bombed. All of the windows are blown out and everything inside burned. There was no sign of them. I scoured the area and came home. Do you think they pissed off the locals?’

  ‘I don’t know,’ I say, worried. ‘But the Wild Ones are indestructible.’

  I send Tulips, who speaks Spanish,
to talk to the locals. He returns with an explanation: ‘The Wild Ones had a fight. Wild Man threw a coffee table into the plasterboard and cracked a gas pipe and didn’t notice. They kept fighting, but they stopped to take a smoke break. The next thing, a carpet of blue flame spread across the floor. Wild Woman was on fire, so Wild Man grabbed her and got her out of there. Dragging her out, he cracked three of her ribs, but saved her life. They got out just as the windows were exploding – just like you see in the movies.’

  If they’re attracting attention in Mexico, how can I run smuggling missions through there? I’ll have to risk crossing the border to talk to them in person. But if I’m stopped coming back, I’ll be arrested and deported. I’ve got so much E coming in the next shipment, it’s a chance I must take to ensure things run smoothly.

  Chapter 54

  After I arrive at the beachfront condo I’m renting for the Wild Ones, I tell them, ‘Grady’s getting 40,000 pills in Amsterdam, stashed in a computer tower by Lucas, and flying to Mexico City. From there, he’s getting a bus to Rocky Point that takes a few days. His arrival here should coincide with spring break. I’ve got people ready to smuggle the Ecstasy into America. The end of spring break is the busiest it ever gets at the border. I’ve lost so much in the stock market, if this mission fails, we’re all screwed.’

  ‘You’d better hope the Federales don’t jack Grady,’ Wild Woman says, referring to the Mexican Federal Police.

  ‘The Federales aren’t up to speed on Ecstasy yet,’ I say. ‘I don’t think they’ll snatch Grady off the bus. We’ve also got to worry about Sammy the Bull’s crew.’

  ‘Plastic gangsters.’ Wild Man bites the top off a beer bottle and spits it against a wall. ‘They ain’t shit. They hang around Taco Bells scaring little kids.’

  ‘That’s easy for you to say. They’ve got some massive dudes working for them, cage fighters, and the Devil Dogs,’ I say, referring to a White Power gang known to bark like Dobermanns while they attack their victims. ‘And there’s a shitload of them. They’re not to be underestimated.’