Log in

No account? Create an account


oh so nervous...

« previous entry | next entry »
Jun. 28th, 2006 | 02:30 am
posted by: love_forsaken in eclecticart

heres the first chapter of my novel =)

Fast Speeds At High Frequency

Chapter One

Yet another seasonal party could be distinguished from the sounds of techno/rave music, swelling behind the apartment door. Inside bodies mesh together like atomic particles, bouncing furiously and grinding in unison to the melodic, undertone drums. At the left corner of the bar, two men dressed in pinstripe suits sit sipping neon green liquid from large martini glasses. The younger, barely eighteen, stares into the crystal blue eyes, glimmering before him. As he speaks, the thirty-three year old male places his hand upon the knee of his novice, trying to attain his attention. Slowly, the aged hand slides up the inner thigh - suppose he already had his attention. Surprising? Not so much. Not here at least.
The host, a young man, approaches the couple and after a few moments of conversation, they disappear into the darkness of a narrow hall. Shortly afterwards, the young man's green eyes take notice of half a dozen men adorned in black leather jackets, who's entrance attracts limited attention. "The Boys," as it was embroidered on their backs, frequented the address for business of some sort and their presence was rarely greeted with suspicious stares. Except for the occasional newcomer who would glare upon the scene with apprehensive eyes as these leather-bound men walked through the crowd. Limited words, drowned out by the dark beat blasting from the sound system, were muttered and the emerald eyed boy placed his palm on one of the men's shoulder blades, pushing him forward. They stood talking to a group of people in the back of the sitting room. The man continued to turn his body, glancing to his left. Carlos and his boys had been to the apartment many times before. Yet Carlos found himself being introduced to new people every time he dropped by for a drop-off. Every other delivery has always been quicker and simpler than the snap of a finger. But for some reason that Carlos could neither explain nor avoid, he found himself "mingling" with various partiers for nearly an hour before being led to a back room in which the deal was to be made. Predictably, within forty-seven minutes of arrival, Carlos walked ahead of his host with his gang in tow, shuffling down the fluorescent lit hallway. His hand shone in a bright blue hue as he reached out to turn the knob of the familiar door. He motioned for the other five to enter and then walked in himself. The emerald eyed boy looked down the hallway in both directions before stepping inside and closing the door lightly behind him.
Within the next hour, two men stumbled over the threshold of the door, grunting uncontrollably. The 'taste' turned into more of a hit. A rather long hit that obviously sent two six feet, two hundred pound men, sailing through the door frame. Joined by three other men, they continued stomping down the hallway towards the bar. Carlos and the host left next, talking in hushed tones as they followed the boys back to the party. The host held his gaze as Carlos babbled on about a 'deal gone wrong.' Unlike Carlos and the others, he unsurprisingly limited himself to a pinch. 'High in the sky' almost always guaranteed a 'dramatic dissension' and he preferred to crash alone instead of in the center of his own celebration.
Banners hung close to the ceiling, so brightly illuminated that the words "Happy Birthday" could be seen from a distance. Every inch of the room was covered in confetti, which would have to be vacuumed eventually. He grimaced at the thought.
"I turn twenty-one and what have I got to fucking show for it?" He muttered under his breath, almost inaudibly.
Directly to his left stood a group of young kids at the bar, probably between the ages of seventeen and twenty-four, trying to convince the bartender to give them more drinks. Their drunken slurs were useless as the bartender smiled and nodded without pouring another beverage. The host stepped up to the bar, presenting a single finger and then resting his palm on the flat surface. A shot of vodka was placed before him, but before he could lift the glass to his lips, one of the kids approached him. As he slowly placed his drink back onto the bar, an aggravated look spread across his face.
"My man - this asshole won't give me my drink like I asked him to! Please dude, dude, du...," Tony pleaded. His voice trailed off as he leaned on the counter. After thirty seconds of non-stop laughter, he glare narrowed as he slipped his hands about the host's waist, pressing his pelvis closer to him. The green eyed boy pulled away in disgust and looked at Tony with the same expression as he had before.
"Don't ever fucking touch me again," he said sharply, "and if I remember correctly, you're barely seventeen."
Tony glared at him through his small eyes and then stormed off in the opposite direction. The host threw his head back as the glass reached his lips. Number eleven and the night is still young.

Link | Leave a comment |

Comments {0}