THE NEXT DAY I spend just fucking around at a cafe. I don't want to do anything and it's technically my day off. Not that I really have a schedule but I can tell when they have nothing for me to do. I look at the bulletin boards for jobs and maybe another room so I can get out from under The Family's thumb. There's a flier for some dumb circus show Halloween week. More fliers for the big Halloween Parade. A business card for some dominatrix. I take that one for myself. I can't afford sex workers but I def plan to rub it till it bleeds to her free sample photos. I have no shame about masturbating to lewd lady pics online. Despite today's break from shit I'm both nervous and annoyed. I know tonight is the big affair. The payback. Don't know how it will go down or what's involved. Don't even know if I'll be involved. But eventually I have to go slinking back home cus I'm broke. When I've run out of shit to do, walked around the strip a few too many times, and ruminate unhealthily on sour relationships I finally walk back home. I don't even know if I'd call it “home.” It's a place I stay at, sure, but I still feel like an outsider, a guest, like I don't belong.
I fumble with my keys outside the house when the door opens for me. A tall bearded man I recognize from one of the local bands is smiling at me. He's wearing all black and is yet another blonde dude with dreadlocks. I can hear just from the door that it's a full house tonight. Defeated, I make my way inside. Some people I kinda know from around are here. I see Adina, this small chick who said she'd let me crash and then ghosted me. She ducks into another room to avoid eye contact. I see Violent Faye, this old school tattoo model from the early 2000s. We used to be friends but had a falling out over her uninviting me to her Christmas party. She has untreated & unmedicated BPD and a reputation for emotionally abusing people. I see P.J. Faqeer. He's this artist I know from a bar that used to be my local haunt. Every time I was there he'd always be doodling. Then we both go soberish. So many old acquaintances. Most of them I'm on bad terms with. Some good. Some just ghosted me because Seattle is flakier than grandma's pie crust.
Jer-Bear and Gregory are pressing the flesh when they spot me. Jer-Bear breaks off to drag me into the mess of people without so much as a hello. They bring all the Kambucha out into the parlor and begin making an announcement.
“Alright, ladies and gents... and all genders...”
Someone from the crowd screams “FUCK GENDER!”
“Yeeaah.” Jer-Bear agrees sardonically.
“The time has come to make our move so we've got our juice! The brew that is true, chalice from the palace, etcetera... We start the bonfire in a half hour. So drink up!”
You call that a toast? You call that a speech? My inner performer is dying at how lackluster this was. My gut says “Now's your chance to give you famous cheer and win them over, or at least assert dominance over the people who don't like you.” But I know better than to social climb in Seattle. Nothing good comes of it. Out of nowhere Lisa Svendson, this rich architect who always gets plastered at industrial shows, approaches me.
“Claudia, I should have known you were part of The Family. It's so good to see you again.” and so begins the inane small talk. God, make it stop. My eyes scan the room for anyone to yank me out of this shit conversation. Gregory is making his way to me. Thank fucking God.
“Mary, let's chat.” he says in a dire tone. I break with Lisa and follow him to a room that's off one of the corridors I didn't even know existed.
“I've got a huge, very, very important task for you. This is an all hands on deck thing. I need you to do something big. Very big. We'll pay you... a lot.”
“Shoot. Whatcha need, boss man?”
“OK, so our original guy chickened out. Just flaked and ghosted us. Goddamn typical. But you're reliable and keep your mouth shut so... here's the deal. Sorry, that sounded rude. I mean, you know how to keep secrets.” He gets a little red.
“It's all cool, my dude, I can keep my mouth zipped.” I make the zipping motion and toss an invisible key away.
“Great, great, great! OK. So, you know who Lucas Greane is... right, we already talked about this. So... I need you to hex him. Really fuck him up in public. Like, get him to take a shit on an American flag or something.”
“Brainwash and puppet master his ass? Done!”
“OK, so here's what ya don't know that you need to. He's not a witch... but he's got a friend who's been protecting him. Him and his little cult. You know who Brian Campette is? Goes by 'The Pharaoh' online?”
A shiver runs down my spine. Not from the mention of Brian but how I learned about him. It was on one of my first dates with Emily. It flashes before my eyes in vivid colors. Emily, my ex. Her image creepily leering in my mind's peripheral vision. She's a little taller than me, dark brown curly hair she sometimes dyed bright red, a tun of unfinished tattoos, glasses, she looks kind of Italian. We walk into The Machine Shop, a goth club in Cap Hill. You have to walk into an alley behind a very old building, down into an apartment complex's basement, and there it is. You'd never know it existed unless someone showed you. I remember Emily's black dress and corset. I remember she was dying her hair black and it looked awful and greasy. I remember biting her ass as she crawled out of bed before we got ready that night.
We're sitting at the Elder Goth booth by the fake fireplace in the club. I'm dressed like shit, as per usual. It's the same booth we sat at when she first took me there. She's yammering on about how this lunatic Brian raped her friend and is now suing her friends for libel. I remember when I went to the bathroom they started playing I Walk the Line by Alien Sex Fiend. Pretty sure there was still toilet paper stuck to my labia as I raced out to dance to it. There, outside the door, was Emily. She had just raced over too. Panting blurted out “I knew you'd want to dance to this!” I have never seen Emily dance with anyone else. I'm sure she has but I've only ever seen her dance with me. Or maybe that's how I want to remember it. I snap back to reality.
“... so we think he's been putting Lucas Greane up to all this buying and demoing Witch properties. Tonight he's gonna be preoccupied. He's gonna be at The Machine Shop and some brave souls are gonna start some minor shit to distract him. We'll be running interference and hexing Luke hardcore, DP, no lube style here. So no more magical protection. But there's an even more important spell that has to be broken for this to work; his public image. If that falls, he falls. For good.”
“It will be my pleasure.”
“He'll be at The Arctic Club downtown at 9pm for a meeting with some friends. Lots of witnesses. Fuck him up, girl, fuck him up!”
Gregory call me a ride and I'm off. Nothing like a cab to make you realize how slow public transit is. We finally reach downtown Seattle and I get there just in time. Getting into The Arctic Club is easy with some minor persuasion. I slither through the crowds until I spot him by a table and my heart jumps into my throat. This is it. The real deal. A task I can't afford to fuck up. If I do this I'll be on Brian's shit list. If I do this I'm in it for life. If I do this there's no going back. The Jump Point. Get out now or never. The train is riding me past it. Into danger. Into this mess. I'm well past that point. Now I just gotta do what I've done a thousand times before. First, I'm gonna piss.
I head to the bathroom and pee so hard it goes sideways. It was so funny when Emily first got her vagina and was learning all the pussy lessons the hard way. None of her cis friends prepped her for it. I just thought it was cute. Stuff that I got born into she stumbled through like a blind bull in a china shop. I step out and fate delivers the lamb to the lion.
That stupid 80s song Addicted to Love is playing through the shit speakers. Lucas Greane is heading towards the bathroom away from his lemmings. I move up to him. Look him dead in the eye. The speakers crackle; Your lights are on, but you're not home. Your mind is not your own. And with all the nervousness you'd expect, I take control. No more asking nicely to cover. No more veil of social engineering. Now it's hardcore black fucking magic.
“Tell your friend to go fuck themselves.” I command.
He goes up to them and says the words. There is no reaction on his face as he speaks but his friends share a nervous laugh. I speak up from behind Lucas.
“We're going to the alley to smoke crack and share AIDs needles. Isn't that right, Luke?” I slap him on the back and he says “Yes! When you're right, you're right!”
“You were going to the bathroom to take a piss, right? Eh, just do it right here. Nobody will mind.”
I'm smiling so hard my face hurts.
We take the light rail up to Capitol Hill. As we're walking out of Cal Anderson Park, I ask him if he's ever done poppers before. I'm making a big ol' basket of drugs for tonight's shit show. Add it to the shopping list; all to be paid on the city's dime of course. They said to publicly humiliate him. They never said what my limits were or how long I could get away with it. I mean, why stop at pissing yourself in a bar? That's just the beginning of a night on the town. This is experience talking, by the way.
Our first stop is a goth BDSM store called The Asylum for kinky wear. The prissy counter girl's smug grin of 'Claudia, how drab' breaks when she recognizes Lucas Greane. I start barking orders at her to get us the wildest shit in the store. I make Lucas take selfies of playing dress up in the gayest goth and fetish attire they have. Before we leave I make him buy a lot of expensive masks for later in the night. A plan is fermenting like jenkem ferments in the hot sun.
“Time to hit the town in your fancy new digs!” I slap him on the ass as hard as I can.
Luke is now wearing a G String, leather straps, a dog collar I'm holding the leash to, and some doggy ears.
“Hand me your phone and tell me the password.” I command.
Our next stop is Pony, a gay dive bar that once tried to short change me on a 20. There's a Glory Hole in one of the bathrooms that has a crudely drawn face with a tag that reads The Claudy Hole. Not my finest work but when one dude is sucking off another, it will be my face they see. Once we're here I live stream him buying shots for the whole bar with the caption “Your tax dollars HARD at work ;) ” followed by some eggplant emojis. After he's made out with half the bar and we have a crew, I announce we're going bar hopping and the drinks are always on Luke! The night is still young and I have much planned for him.
It's time to party at the infamous leather bar The Cuff. We get a lot more selfies in, and by “we” I mean Lucas. It's a rager of a party, pretty sure it's somebody's birthday. I tell all the dudes in earshot that we're cruising and looking for a room. I say that we're a couple and our kink is me watching him get dog piled. I promise I'll keep my clothes on and just take pics of him getting fucked and everyone else can wear masks.
You'd be shocked how easy it is to organize a gay kink orgy on Capitol Hill at 11pm. We get to an apartment graciously provided by one of the guys. I set the mood by blasting Cake and Sodomy by Marilyn Manson. All the while they take turns topping Lucas Greane. I don't know how much is the mind control and how much is his secret desire to let loose but he sure does look like he's having the time of his life. We take it to the bathroom where Luke gets a three man golden shower. I upload the video to PornHub, both with and without the music just in case. You might say 'making a man have an orgy through brain washing is sexual assault,' to which I'd reply 'I don't give a shit. Fuck 'em.' That being said, I may have crossed a serious line when I ended the night. I was leaving him to his orgy when I gave the parting words, “you know, if you like poppers you're gonna love meth!”
I'm looking at my phone and before I even made it to the 60 bus stop, The Stranger had already made a quick article with all the photos that other people had taken. After that, well, obviously anything he had been pushing in the city council dropped dead. The last time anyone saw Lucas Greane in public was him buying black tar heroin on 2nd ave in Belltown.
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