“ARE YEH SURE ABOUT this?” Conner was frowning as he sat across from his partner in the Randy’s Diner down off North New Ballas. There were people everywhere, but Randy’s was one of the only all-night diners in the area. He had misgivings about the whole plan his friend had come up with. He ran his hand through his stringy, undercut auburn hair for the hundredth time tonight.
“Dude, really, this is so feckin’ perfect.” Barry grinned across the table at him.
“I dunno, this is risky,” he responded quietly. “I mean, I know he looked like the perfect mark, but what if he’s under protection? What if we cannae get ‘im separated from the fat little nurse that’s always following ‘im around? Or the scary lookin’ nurse always shadowing ‘im?”
Barry sighed and rolled his dark eyes. “Look, we’re in feckin’ deep to Callaghan. If we don’t do something, we’re never leaving St. Louis. At least, not alive. This is a golden opportunity. If it hadn’t been for the call I got from some weird dude the other day, I wouldn’ta thought ‘bout it. But don’t tell Callaghan we had any help with this. We can’t let him know anyone else even knows about this scheme, let alone gave us the whole idea.”
“But this guy, yeh don’t even know who he is? Just some guy tha’ walked up to you after we lost the drugs? Idn’t that suspicious? Aren’t yeh worried the guy might have had something to do with the drugs gettin’ stolen?” he asked with a deeper frown.
“Nah, we know it was the stupid East St. Louis black gang.” Barry had a sour look on his face as he shook his head. “We saw that asshole running away from the drop. They snuck into the drop point and snagged it before we got there. Boss expects us to drop the shipment off by Friday, and if we don’t do somethin’, he’s going to feckin’ kill us on sight. That was a lot of money worth of feckin’ coke.”
He sighed and ran his hand through his hair again, pausing to rub the shaved portion near the back of his neck. “I...I dunno. Kidnappin’?”
“Yeah, look, it couldn’t be easier. You said he was weird and took off alone a lot. He’s a feckin’ doctor. He’s got money, see here.” Barry turned his tablet around so Conner could see the page he’d pulled up. It was the webpage for McKellar hospital with the profile for a doctor on it. “And this, his father’s a fuckin’ doctor too. It means bank, Conner, like lotsa bank.”
Biting his lip, he stared at Barry. “But...will tha’ be enough? Say we pull this shite off, is it gonna be enough to get us out of debt for the shipment? Will it make him happy enough to forget we got it stolen?” He spoke in a low voice as a couple walked by with the hostess.
“No, but I know how to get to the bastard without putting us into any further danger. Because look at this.” Barry took his tablet back and pulled up a website for a book publisher. “Read down about halfway.”
As he read, he muttered to himself. “Autistic prodigy, neurology, son of a Korean immigrant, father is a pediatric surgeon, grandson of...” He glanced up at Barry. “Holy feck, this...oh this is perfect. Do yeh think the boss knows about this?”
“Look at him. Does he seem like he’s half Irish? His last name is Sung, and he takes after his Korean father,” Barry said with a cocked eyebrow. “But knowin’, you can see it in his face. The eyes and the cheeks. He’s got his father’s skintone, but he’s got those big, dark blue eyes.”
He shook his head. “No, cannae tell he’s Irish blood at first look at all. Why would they put this for public view? That’s feckin’ insane. This makes him a feckin’ target to anyone who knows his grand-da. But we can use it.” He was starting to come around to Barry’s idea.
“See, I know what I’m talkin’ ‘bout.”
“So, we ransom him to his father, then we give ‘im to the boss? Won’t he just kill ‘im?” He honestly didn’t want to see someone die because of this.
“That’s the beautiful part,” Barry grinned wider. “Boss has this thing for boys.”
“Lotsa folk have a ting for boys. I mean, I know boss is old school, and probably don’t want a bunch of people know he like feckin’ other dudes, but this day ‘n age...” He arched a brow.
“No, you don’t get it. How old do you think he is?” Barry smirked slowly.
“I dunno, like sixteen or some shit; he’s a feckin’ twink bitch.”
“Yeah, boss don’t just like boys. He likes lil’ boys. The younger lookin’ the better.”
He nodded at him as a genuine smile spread across his face. “So, we pay ‘im what the shipment we had pinched by the other gang was worth, then we give ‘im this doctor as a way to encourage him not to blow our brains out. Then, just to be feckin’ sure, we take off with some of the cash and disappear to the feckin’ Bahamas or something,” he said. “I dunno if it will work, but we’re dead when he finds out we lost the shipment.”
“We got nothin’ to lose, buddy. Not a damn thing.”
Chapter Three
The Actor and the Stage
The director, Jason Twillen, yelled over the din of the other actors running back and forth inside the new Highland Theater.
“Alright, where’s my Benedick!” rang out as the company prepared for their first public production. The theater was brightly lit for rehearsal and the whole place smelled of new fabric and cleaning supplies. Tomorrow was the opening night for the production as well as the theater itself.
Carmine Deangelo, Benedick, was flirting with one of the new actresses and hadn’t heard the call for his character. The actress was playing one of the bit parts in the production, and it was the first time he’d encountered her in the St. Louis acting community. She was a shorter woman with a plump figure and lovely wavy brown hair.
“No, really, I’m serious!” he told her, smiling brilliantly at her, his dark eyes sparkling.
She giggled. “I don’t think I should talk to you like this, Mr. Deangelo.”
“What? Why? And call me Carmine, sweetheart. Really, I think you’re cute as a button in a corset.” He gave her an expressive wink and made no attempt to hide the fact he was looking directly down her cleavage. He thought she looked quite nice in the outfit she was wearing for the part. “With a figure like yours, you are destined for greatness, and you have such personality.” He kept his voice low as he leaned against the wall backstage.
The woman blushed brightly and covered her face with her hands. Her dark hair was done in a mockup of the fancy hairstyle she’d wear for the play. “Goodness, they were right! You are incorrigible!”
“Wha’? Because I like what I see?” he purred and smirked at her. He took a moment and traced a finger over the bottom of the corset, the contrast of the white fabric striking against his dark skin.
“I didn’t think I was the type you’d hit on, Mr. Deangelo.”
Carmine shook his head. “Why wouldn’t I hit on you? You’re gorgeous.” He knew why; the woman was older, perhaps in her mid to late thirties, with a thick figure and she probably didn’t think she deserved his attention.
“Oh, um, I think the director is calling for you...” Her face reddened even further as she turned away from him, disappearing into the group of fellow extras.
It wasn’t like he expected to get a date out of her, but he really did think she was cute. He figured she should know. He glanced toward the front of the stage and knew if Twillen was yelling he should go find out what he wanted. With a sigh, he went to the front where the director was standing talking to someone. Any minute he’d realize Carmine hadn’t approached him yet and yell again. When he was halfway to the front, he felt a hand on his arm. He turned to see Julien giving him a shy smile.
“Oh, Jules,” he smirked, patting the short boy’s hand. “How you, sweetheart?”
“Um, Carmine, ah, do you think maybe after rehearsal...ah...could we get coffee today?” he asked. He had a wide eyed and hopeful look on his face. “I don’t have to be home until late. We could, you know, maybe go do something...”
Carmine hated to turn him down, he did enjoy the boy’s company, b
ut he wasn’t even sixteen yet; he was one of the high school kids helping with the production. “Oh, Jules, I’ve got an appointment for a radio interview after rehearsal, I’ll have to take a raincheck? Maybe when we all go out after the production this weekend?” There was no way he was going to take out a kid by himself, but if he wanted to go out with the group, it would be fine.
With a duck of his head, Julien took off, face red. He sighed and shook his head.
“Damn, what is it with you and the high school boys?” Persephone, one of the actresses he’d worked on several productions with, commented as she came up to him.
“They hear I’m bi, and they all think they found someone to look up to. Which is fine, but I wish they’d quit trying to get me to fuck,” he muttered. “I know I’m known as a player, but I’m not a damn pedophile.”
“I said, where is my Benedick?”
“Shit, later, Seph.” He left her to go over where Twillen stood, pushing his purple plastic rimmed glasses up his nose.
It was obvious Twillen’s mood wasn’t good today. His shirt was untucked, and his hair was messy. Twillen was always put together unless he’d had a fight with his husband. Carmine knew he was going to get it for being late this morning. Chewing his lip as he ran a hand over his close-cropped black hair and got up the courage to go on ahead. He moved through the various groups of the actors waiting for instructions from the director. Everyone was getting into position for a complete run through of the play before the debut tomorrow evening. Several turned to look as he made his way through them. He always caught the attention of other people. After all, he was quite the striking character. He’d been blessed with his mother’s soft facial features, smoldering dark eyes, and skin of light brown that made him stand out quite a bit among the mostly white cast. However, it was his attitude and natural charisma which caught the most attention.
His flirtatious nature made others assume he had a nonstop string of lovers. Honestly, he flirted more than he dated. It left him with the reputation, though. He had gone through several lovers, male, female, and other, but they usually ended because of things that had nothing to do with his flirting. People could handle him at his best, but they couldn’t handle him at his worst. He felt it was okay. He’d keep looking for someone who was able to take him however he was.
Once he got up beside the director, he called out, “Hey, I’m here.”
“You’re late,” Twillen glared at him.
“Um, yeah, sorry, I just got up late. My mom had a bad night last night, and I-”
The director cut him off with a wave of his hand. “I don’t care, Deangelo. One more tardy, and I will put your understudy in the role.”
He ground his teeth and nodded. If he wasn’t careful, he’d lose his spot and he couldn’t take the risk. As much as he hated working for the man, he couldn’t get bumped off this production. The chance of actually getting a contract with any theater in St. Louis was low, and he had worked hard to get it. The Highland Theater was steady work, and he’d landed a position as one of the lead cast members. His mom was counting on him to stay employed.
“Yeah, got it, got it,” he sighed, putting on his fake smile as he left to go get ready to run his lines.
“Man, is it just me, or does he hate you special?” muttered one of his cast mates.
“Darren, you know he doesn’t like...” Carmine paused, glancing at his fellow. Darren was a typical theater kid from high school; he was well educated from day one, and more than being educated, he was white... “me,” he finished. He knew mentioning the fact he was one of the few nonwhite people in the entire production wouldn’t mean anything to Darren.
He had been the first one to come up to Carmine on this production and proudly proclaim he was one of those people who “didn’t see color.” He did say he loved his work. Darren wouldn’t understand what it was like for him on this kind of production. He was the sole nonwhite actor in the production.
Carmine would get through it despite the director’s passive aggressive racism. He would do what he did best: bring in people to watch the show. And people would come just to see him. Lots of people loved his acting, and he was well on his way to becoming one of the best-known stage actors in St. Louis. His Othello had been good enough to be awarded some fancy statue for it, but it felt hollow. He thought his Macbeth had been better than Othello, and before Macbeth, he felt like he had completely owned Mercutio. Those, however, had gotten no real recognition. Both had been voted fan favorites for their respective plays, but until he took on Othello, he had received no official recognition. It was frustrating.
Everyone got into their positions for the first run through of the day. He kept thinking about what he had going on later in the day. At least he had a chance to go to the radio station and do an interview for his friend Charles. Twillen had been happy he was going to give the production some extra advertisement. He knew Charles said there was another guest today, a local doctor, on the show.
He let a grin split his face because after that, he was heading to the club. He wanted to see the blonde sub he’d spent past few weekends with; Loki had been his scene name. Carmine had no idea what his real name was, but he was hoping to see him tonight to get his number. Who knew, maybe they could hit it off in the real world? After all, there hadn’t much talking while he was flogging his pale skin. He shivered. Watching those red marks appear against his light-colored flesh had been far more amazing than he imagined. Especially when Carmine cock buried to the hilt in his ass. He smirked, remembering the way he’d absolutely writhed in ecstasy under the flogger... He shook his head to clear his thoughts before he became too distracted.
These people all thought they knew him. They believed he was a whore, and sometimes he thought he was too. But he really wasn’t. A lot of partners don’t stick around when they hear the phrase “I have bipolar disorder” come out of someone’s mouth, so he didn’t tell them, instead telling them he was moody. Of course, they all liked him when he was happy. Things went bad for him when he wasn’t happy.
Luckily, word of his down periods didn’t get around. He was sure he’d never get a part again if they knew he had to carefully monitor his own mental state. He was on an upswing right now, though, so he knew the jittery feeling was going to come on soon. He was going to have to be careful, because if he shifted all the way up into a major manic phase, he might get in trouble again.
He pulled out his phone and checked the med-minder, and he’d ticked off his medicine this morning. He breathed out. It was all good, he thought to himself. As long as he took his medication, he could keep it under control. Most of the time. He’d still swing into his manic phase, there was no stopping it, but at worse, he’d be impulsive and hyper. He just had to watch himself over the next couple months. Keeping his libido in check would be the hardest part. Why his impulse control problems were rooted in his sex drive, he had no idea.
For now, he just had to get through the morning at rehearsal. Afterward, he would go to the radio studio for the show with Charles. Then later tonight, they would head to club. And if he was lucky, the fiery sub would be there again.
“Everyone, places! Act four, scene one! Benedick and Beatrice!” Twillen shouted from in front of the stage.
Carmine turned and smiled at the woman playing Beatrice and began the dialogue.
CARMINE STEPPED INTO the office of the broadcast studio before the lunch hour show began. He ran a hand over his head to comb out the water. Of course, it would start raining right as he stepped out of the car. As he turned to shut the door behind him, he glanced outside and saw the clouds weren’t dispersing. But at least it wasn’t a heavy rain. It was a good thing it waited until after rehearsal. Missouri weather was nothing if unpredictable. He walked toward the waiting area of the plain office and looked through the large window into the recording booth. His friend Charles Ruebern was doing the pre-lunch show music and announcements.
Since there was fifteen minutes before the show bega
n, Carmine sat down in the one of the comfortable chairs that looked into the recording studio. He grabbed one of the books on the table. It looked like this one was a gardening magazine from 2007. He needed to get Charles to buy some decent reading material if he wanted to interview him more often.
He was glad Charles was happy again. Last year his childhood friend had come home after being medically discharged from the army. He’d had his leg nearly taken off by an IED. In the end, he had suffered permanent damage to the nerves along his thigh and had terrible scars. He hadn’t known what to do with his life since he’d planned on a military career. Carmine had encouraged him to pursue his dream to be a radio DJ and host. Charles liked to joke he even came equipped with a radio face.
In the studio, Charles was nervously picking at the microphone. Carmine grinned because today was a big interview for Charles. For the past six months, he’d been working for this small independent AM station. For the last three of those months, he’d had this show at the lunch hour block. Due to his lackluster guests, his ratings were rather low. This was his chance to finally interview someone who mattered to the St. Louis community, which was one of the reasons he’d asked Carmine onto the same show. It was a good way for Charles to have Carmine there as support as well as give Carmine some support for his craft.
The front door opened, and he looked up to see a short, dark-haired young man and a taller gray-haired man enter the room. The younger man wore black jeans and a t-shirt and seemed annoyed at being steered into the room by the older guy in a gray three-piece suit. He certainly is a cute little thing, he thought. Of course, his mind descended completely into the gutter when the younger guy turned around. Carmine bit his lip, trying not to stare at the guy’s ass. The jeans he was wearing clung in all the right places, showing off his pert bubble butt.
Stolen Innocence Page 7