Chapter 6

A couple of serious women, probably the most serious Harry ever encountered, watched and heard Harry recite his own words while Jonas recorded his performance. Both women were pretty despite their seriousness, one an aged California blonde, tanned appropriately, wisdom in her eyes and lines on her face made him figure her to be about Pat’s age, in her fifties, while the brunette beside her, paler with interesting heather eyes, the one in charge, he would guess to be in her early thirties. Less serious but far more familiar of course, his sister and his lover, sat at the edge of the table, while Pat sat on the other side of the serious pair next to who he figured to be the casting director.

“Let’s do the scene between Rancid and his sister,” the casting director ordered once Harry had finished. It was a sort of amusing scene, Rancid being clever and ironic about his situation and his sister playing along, both hiding their suffering, Harry more successful at that. But despite the hiding sadness, Harry actually elicited a laugh from the serious women.

The harder scene was between Harry and Peg, not because it would have actually happened horizontally and they were standing, but because Peg was stiff and unsure of her speech.

“Excuse me,” Harry interrupted. “Could you give us a minute?”

“Just a minute,” the brunette decided.

Harry led Peg to a corner of the smallish conference room.

“Close your eyes,” he told her. When she did, he told her, “Imagine us in bed together that first time, basking in the warmth of our first sex together, getting a chance to get to know each other beyond the physical. You’re interested in me and my story, maybe too much, but, post coital, you’re more easily comfortable with that interest.”

Peg smiled and nodded, opened her eyes and sighed. “Okay,” she said.

“Just be yourself, because you actually are being yourself.”

She chuckled.

It went much better the second time. Peg relaxed much more. She wasn’t Frances but she was definitely much better.

The casting director actually smiled when they finished. “Thanks Harry,” she said, dismissing him. She spoke into a small walkie talkie the name of the next auditioner. Harry had been the first.

Harry followed the hall to what must have once been a break room for a company no longer there. A group of men of various ages and interesting face, some harder than others, awaited their turn. The fat little producer escorted a tall young man, almost as tall as Harry, to the room he’d just vacated.

Some of the men he knew, a couple, surprisingly, actors he’d met at Frances’s place, but four others he’d known in prison.

The reunion had been brief because Harry had been called first, thankfully for Peg he thought, but being first maybe he’d be forgotten. Harry didn’t worry about it, he’d either get the part playing himself or he didn’t.

The ex-cons didn’t sit together as a group, but in pairs, the two white guys and the Indian and the black guy.

The white guys stood and hovered when he poured coffee. The older, skinnier, more nervous of the two, the guy always seemed a bit nervous as if a bit of paranoia was a natural state, asked the usual question: “When did you get out?”

“Just a few days ago,” Harry responded. “How’s life treating you?” Neither looked all that successful being outside prison. Harry had worn a sort of uniform, jeans and a chambray shirt, both new and clean and blue. Those two dressed the best they could in button shirts of different hues and casual slacks, one khaki and the other black.

“It ain’t been easy,” said the younger guy, thickly built with close cropped hair. He had an intimidating presence which probably didn’t help things.

“We do what we can,” the nervous guy shrugged.

“I hear you,” Harry responded. “We’ll talk later.”

Harry brought the coffee to where the Indian and the black guy sat, the black guy far more intimidating than the younger white guy had been.

“Good to see you made it out,” said the black guy.

“Same for you,” Harry smiled.

The black guy chuckled. “You mean staying out.”

“Something like that. Joseph,” he addressed the Indian, “How’s your folks?”

“Mom didn’t make it,” Joseph told him.

“I’m sorry to hear that.”

“Dad’s playing the tough guy as usual but I can tell he’s hurting.”

“At least you’re there for him.”

Joseph shrugged.

“And the kids?”

“Abe enlisted in the Army. Plans to get some schooling out of it.”

“He okay?”

Joseph shrugged. “He talks with his sister more than me. She lets me know when she feels like it.”

“You’re not getting along?”

“We get along, but she’s a teenager.”

Harry chuckled.

“I’m an embarrassment,” Joseph continued, “but we’re getting through it. She took my mom’s death hard since she raised her. But Hallie’s the smart one in the family, smart and angry. She didn’t want Abe to join the army because being Indian he’d be cannon fodder and she’s probably right. I just hope he makes it so he can get educated. Hallie’s working hard to get the kind of grades where she can get a scholarship. She wants to be a journalist, tell the story of us, you know?”

“You must be proud.”

“It’s all about them, you know?”

“As much as I can, not having kids.”

Joseph nodded.

“So Merc,” Harry addressed the large black man with shaven head and dressed impeccably in what must have been a bespoke suit what with his size. Merc was short for Mercury. “You seem to be doing well.”

“Fuck you,” Merc responded with a smirk. “You seemed to have landed on your feet.”

“It helps to have a rich sister.”

“How’s the movie star?”

“Not great I’m afraid.”

“Not getting the roles?”

“I don’t know actually. I think she just got back from a shoot, but unfortunately found her husband in bed with a young blonde.”

“The problem with monogamy. Let her know I’m there for her.”

Harry chuckled. “Fuck you.” One of Merc’s riffs was getting out and fucking Harry’s sister, after seducing her with his irresistible charm and huge black cock. Harry laughed the first time Merc mentioned it and Merc laughed too. Truth be told Merc might be bisexual but preferred men. Unfortunately raping men as punishment had been his style, thankfully not all that often once he reached alpha status. His stable of betas had been his lovers, but since Harry had never seen them walk funny he figured Merc tended to be the bottom so to speak in their relationships. Sort of like the hard ass businessman relaxing by being the bottom in a D and S relationship. Harry, aside from the betas of course, and Joseph, was the only one who officially knew, and if those let out his inclination, including Harry, they’d be subject to a reaming. But Merc did have a woman in his life.

“How’s the old lady?” Harry asked.

“Cherse and churlish,” Merc laughed. “Still the hottest dame at the ball.”

“Must have missed your charm.”

“It took at least a couple days and nights to get over how much we missed each other, and not even any orgies until the end!”

Merc had bragged about the orgies, his stable of men and women, Merc preferring the former and his old lady preferring the latter. In a way the couple were beards, but were more exceptions in terms of heterosexual sex. It’s what made it work, the wife not fucking other men and Merc not fucking other women except for business, for training. His stable were drug mules and seducers, gaining favor from any of the connections Merc needed to make. In a way they were escorts and gigolos, but Merc wasn’t quite a pimp. In fact it would be more that his wife was the Madam setting up encounters with rich men or women, and the place people got together, an underground club which tended to move when things got hot, when informants or unbent cops threatened things, the bent ones keeping Merc or his wife informed, was like a floating whorehouse.

Probably Harry and Joseph were the only ones who knew about Merc’s business, the only two Merc seemed to trust for confession or more prideful boasting. Joseph tended not to talk much and Harry had somehow become a sort of father confessor to Merc.

“You know the role’s going to be an inmate,” Harry told Merc.

“Too much?” Merc asked, gesturing at his outfit. Joseph had dressed well too, but in his idea of dressing well which meant his best denim jacket and jeans and polished cowboy boots, a snap button white cowboy shirt beneath the jacket.

“It might be. I don’t think my shirt would fit you.”

“I got a t shirt underneath,” Merc said and immediately stood and stripped off his torso to reveal the white tank top beneath and the many tattoos, dark against his dark skin, and of course his impressive muscles, arms and chest and abdomen. A large, thick, scary man.

“Holy shit,” Harry heard nearby. Harry laughed.

“I should be social with the other ex-cons,” Harry told his prison friends.

“You know you’re always welcome at my place,” Merc told him. “You got a number?”

“It would probably be easier if you give me yours,” Harry chuckled. “I’m still getting use to these things.”

Merc reached back into his inside jacket pocket while Harry pulled his smartphone from his jeans pocket. “Let me,” said Merc, and Harry handed him the phone, Merc obviously not wanting to speak his number aloud. Merc punched in his number into Harry’s phone, his jewel studded phone ringing, and did some programming to save Harry’s number. “Got it.”

They put their phones away.

Harry immediately regretted moving to his white friends, more acquaintances really, and their dull conversation. None had much to say about their life outside, no rosy picture, the only amusement coming from remembered incident’s from being inside as if that was a better place, making Harry wonder how soon they’d be back there.

He decided to move on and went up to the little fat man, gatekeeper at the moment, to let him know he’d be taking a walk. The walkie talkie announced the next auditioner at the same, so Harry slipped into the conference room with the last one exiting.

“I’m not needed, right?” he asked Pat.

She conferred with her casting director. “Maybe later?”

“You have my number.”

“I do.”

“Is it okay if I go too?” Peg asked.

“I can take her spot if needed,” Frances offered.

“That’s fine,” the casting director agreed.

Harry heard Peg sigh and saw her relax once out of the room.

“You okay?” he asked while they headed to the exit stairs.

“You’ll probably end up with some other lover in the film,” she said.

“I get you the rest of the time,” Harry chuckled. “But if you’re still interested, Frances can help. It’s really all about relaxing and being yourself and being with your partner as if no one else is there. Just focus and say your lines.”

“Easier said than done.”

“You were fine the second time through. If you’re interested, you’d be fine. I believe that. It’s just for you to believe it.”

“Yeah.”

Once outside, the Mall of America loomed a few blocks away. “Feel like shopping?” she asked.

“In the largest mall in the world?” Harry smirked.

“It’s sort of impressive,” Peg shrugged.

“It’s not exactly on my bucket list, but why not?”

They entered on the Nordstrom’s side because he’d never been to a Nordstrom’s. The vast shoe area did impress him. “I guess they’re known for selling shoes,” Peg said. “They probably even have your size.”

Peg ended up buying him a pair of very comfortable Italian shoes, sort of casual but not looking in the least athletic.

Entering the mall proper with its four floors gave Harry a moment of vertigo which passed. They looked at a map of the place designating the many stores and decided on the rain forest themed restaurant for lunch. After eating they went window shopping, stopping at a swimsuit boutique Peg found far too expensive so they stopped at Macys for a more affordable one piece for her and some trunks for him. She bought him some t-shirts on sale and would have bought him some casual slacks it they had anything long enough but they didn’t. “We can shop on line if you want,” she told him. The salesman suggested Nordstrom’s and they ended up finding a couple pairs there.

But before that, the aquarium caught Harry’s notice and Peg admitted she’d never been, so they decided to check it out, leisurely enjoying the fish.

And they made one last stop at Victoria’s Secret which Harry felt both embarrassed about and skeptical of, wondering, “Why embellish or tease when it just delays the inevitable and enjoyable of getting naked?”

“Such a romantic,” Peg chuckled before kicking him out of the store. He alleviated the wait at an electronic gadget store while Peg found a naughty outfit for herself and one for Chrissy, a cute brunette helping being about the same size as their sexy lover.

When they finally returned to the auditions site most everyone had left. In fact there seemed to be a break which allowed Harry to borrow Frances’s keys to stash their bags. Once done, he noticed Merc remained as did Joseph. “They wanted me to run lines with you,” Merc explained like a professional.

“You?” Harry asked Joseph.

“Seems cliché,” said the always surprising Joseph. “The big quiet Indian like in One Flew over the Cuckoo’s Nest. I’m just keeping Merc company.”

“You guys want to come by my place after?” Merc asked.

“I should get home,” Joseph replied.

“It’s a Saturday, Joseph,” Merc reminded him.

“Maybe,” Joseph mumbled.

“You pissed at me?” Harry asked.

“What about?” Merc muttered. “You mean about that guy being me? Then you got me all wrong,” Merc laughed. “But that clown sure weren’t you.”

“No, he’s Rancid,” Harry smirked and they laughed.

“It’s cool, Harry,” Merc said. “Better to inspire than expire.”

“True,” said Joseph.

“This is my lady friend, Peg,” Harry introducing her when she approached after using the toilet. “This is Merc, short for Mercury and Joseph.”

Harry could tell Peg was a bit nervous around Merc, especially when he stood. The man definitely intimidated both in his size and his intensity.

“You as crazy as Doc?” Merc grinned and lifted his big hand for a shake.

“Getting there,” Peg chuckled and relaxed, accepting the handshake. “You’ve known each other long?”

“We were stuck together a few years. I got out a little over a year ago. Joseph...”

“Just a couple months ago,” Joseph said. “I thought I got away from this riff raff, but keep getting pulled back,” he complained quietly making the other two men laugh and, after a moment, Peg too. Joseph barely grinned.

“I invited Doc to my place,” Merc told her. “You’re invited too of course.”

“Uhm.”

“It’ll be safe, unless we get raided,” Merc laughed. “Then it’s every man for himself.”

“It’ll be a trip, Peg,” Harry assured her. “Especially finally getting to meet your wife.”

“Ma Belle,” Merc smiled fondly.

“So far I’ve enjoyed Harry’s trips,” Peg grinned.

“Cool,” said Merc.

Harry got called back in and proceeded to read with a few interesting faces, from oddly fresh faced to those with much tougher skin like him. These were all brief and ended with Merc, his entourage of Joseph and Peg entering with him.

“I’m his bodyguard,” Joseph quipped.

“Maybe you could read again, Mister...,” Pat said, paging through her script.

“Joseph Hazard. You want my Will Sampson?”

Pat chuckled, getting the Cuckoo Nest reference. “Not necessary.”

“I’d have to be mute,” Joseph agreed.

Pat found the bit she wanted. “Injun Joe?” Joseph remarked.

“Sorry.”

“Better than what they called me.”

“Which was?”

“Sioux.”

Harry nodded sadly and Merc shrugged.

“I didn’t react like that Johnny Cash character. Cause I am I guess. Actually Lakota, but close enough.”

He and Harry shared the script reading the dialogue. Merc and Harry followed.

“We’ll let you know,” said the casting director, ending the auditions.

Everyone but Pat, Pat’s wife and her left the room.

“Ready to head home, or...?” Frances asked Harry. They’d all come up in Frances’s car.

“Merc invited us to his place,” Harry told her.

“You’ll need a ride back,” Frances reminded him.

“I’ll ask Merc.”

Merc currently talked on his encrusted phone, but soon finished. Harry asked, “Will we be able to get a ride home?”

“My driver will drive you whenever you’re ready,” Merc told him. “A pleasure to have met you Miss Frances Lynch.”

“You as well,” Frances nodded, shaking the big man’s hand.

“Belle won’t believe it. She’s a fan. Selfie?” Merc fiddled with his phone and handed it to Joseph who took the shot of Merc’s big arm around Frances, both grinning, Frances a bit uneasily.

“Give me a call if you’re staying,” Frances requested.

“Yes Mom,” Harry smirked.

Frances separated from the group who headed to the stairs and exited the building with the Mall of America in view. “Should be a couple minutes,” Merc said, and a couple minutes later a white Escalade slowed and parked, driven by a handsome blond man looking somewhat like Elvis if Elvis hadn’t dyed his hair black. Merc took shotgun while the others crawled into the back, Joseph pausing.

“I got my truck,” Joseph explained.

“Ellie will drive you back, won’t you Ellie?”

“Yes sir,” said Ellie with a Memphis accent.

“Ellie for Elvis?” Harry asked.

“Yep,” said Elvis.

“My wife and I get a kick with Elvis impersonators and Ellie was the best,” Merc explained. “Belle calls him Junior.”

“I changed my name to Elvis Aaron Presley Junior,” Elvis added. “Keeps me busy when I ain’t driving Mr. Mercury around.”

“I presume you wear a wig?” Peg asked.

“I got a few,” Elvis agreed.

“I prefer Ellie as a blonde,” Merc winked.

Elvis drove them into Minneapolis to the warehouse district downtown and entered a parking ramp using a card to open the gate. They parked at the back at a reserved space, a card, perhaps the same one, serving as a key card to enter a back entrance to a warehouse building.

“Private club?” Peg asked since they entered a dimly lit space all in black, a bored, buxom blonde manning the desk. A bass thrum could be heard.

“Welcome to my home,” Merc grinned, pushing open a swinging padded door making the music much louder, old school funk, Ohio Players if Harry had to guess.

Padded booths surrounded the front area, with some tables and chairs set back to give room for a dance floor. On a broad and somewhat deep stage a pair of hot naked women, slim and only marginally busty, a matched pair except one was deep black and the other pale white, danced intimately together, lit by colorfully shifting lights.

Behind the booth area, a few steps up, were four tables set up for gambling.

The customers, and for as early as it was the place was at least half full, ranged in races from white to oriental to black, the latter the majority, almost exclusively men, with skimpily dressed women and men servicing them, getting them drinks or becoming much more intimate.

The place was a weird juxtaposition of disco, casino, strip club and bordello. “vad du vill,” Peg chuckled into Harry’s ear.

The group followed Merc diagonally across the front area, broad, lit steps leading them up to a door just past the long bar where a beautiful white raven haired woman wearing a black shirt unbuttoned to reveal significant cleavage moved to the music while bartending.

Inside the booth, which had one way mirror glass at both the front and side, turntables had been set up and currently were being used, though there was also a computer keyboard and monitor. A tall, slim, beautiful black woman of undeterminable age who’d been swaying to the music, stopped and hugged Merc. Nefertiti came to mind for Harry. An equally beautiful blonde woman, much more curvaceous, manned the turntables. Jane Mansfield perhaps?

“How’d it go?” the Nubian beauty asked.

“Let me show you,” Merc grinned and showed her the selfie.

“Holy shit! Is that...?”

“Frances Lynch in the flesh. This here’s her brother Harry. You remember me telling you about Doc?”