Life's Perpetual Dissapointment chapter 35

Chapter 351

Luke arrived at “Celebri-C” at around quarter past ten and had been informed by the receptionist, the head – one Mr Edwin, was out on an assignment. When Luke had asked why the chief of such a high-profile magazine was out of the front line as opposed to keeping an eye of the overall picture, the receptionist, with a glazed look in her eyes, simply shrugged ‘I have only been here a few days Mr., I do not know the ins and outs yet, and I am not sure I am even at liberty to inform strangers of how Mr Edwin runs his company.’ Luke had assured her his intentions were good and left his name and number to arrange a meeting at the first moment of convenience. Convinced he had does all that was possible at this juncture, he returned to his car and smoked a cigarette. 2

The clock on his dashboard informed him he had well over an hour before meeting John at the Grosvenor. He smoked leisurely and when he had finished smoked another. Smoking was not just an addiction to him, it was an art form; he liked the way he looked whilst doing it. He would practice in the mirror, blowing smoke rings and pulling the best Humphrey Bogart poses he could muster. He had experimented holding the cigarette in different hands, between different fingers, with his eyebrows raised and with his eyebrows narrowed. He even had a repertoire or exhalation poses, routines he would run through based on Hollywood legends from the Golden Age of cinema. This was how Luke passed his time, frivolously and with blatant disregard to his health. A strong willed man, he was able to go hours, if not days without a cigarette, he was also able to chain smoke sometimes a hundred within a day; it depended solely on his mood.3

Four smokes into this particular binge, Luke decided to head back to the hotel to ensure the tailor was coming. He had a few phone calls to make and could ensure John was running on time. They did not want to upset the director as today might be the day the plot of the film was finally revealed. 4

John was in a state of panic, he had not consumed nearly enough units to deal with the devil. This gargantuan Minotaur, dressed like a West Country lottery winner, was in complete control. John was at his mercy, he had less control on the situation than his parents’ neighbour Mrs Cox, had on her bladder. Opting for a “speak only when spoken to” ethos he sat mute and pale; struggling to retain consciousness. Edwin was concentrating on the road, the Aston cornered as if on rails, the old V8 engine roared and snarled as it powered the beast forward towards destinations unknown. Edwin was not sure where he was taking John; it was not the destination but the journey. He wished the expedition to be a memorable one, at least for John. He was careful to remain within the speed limit where there was potential for police intervention, but with casual neglect most happy to smash it where police presence was simply not an issue. For the latter to take prominence, Edwin knew his voyage had to be off the main roads, out of the hustle and bustle of London proper and into the countryside. Aside from careening round blind country corners at break-neck speed, Edwin had another trick up his tweed patterned sleeves. He would screech to a halt suddenly causing NASA issue G-force, before accelerating, pedal to the metal towards a corner and turning at the last minute. The ageing affect this was having on the big man’s poor car was nothing compared to what it was to doing to the now green John Connors. Besides, with all Edwin’s money, a new set of tyres and exhaust was not an issue; how much would John have to shell out for his psychiatric MOT after a trip with Edwin?5

Half an hour into this lunacy, Edwin, with a grin that even the Cheshire Cat would need all the surgeons Hollywood to replicate, began to speak. He opened casually, asking how John had been lately, how he was finding fame and fortune; his plans for the future and so on and so forth. The fact that he was asking these questions whilst recklessly driving at an average of ninety-miles an hour, down narrow country lanes into oncoming traffic: including tractors and country ramblers, with John basically in a hostage situation, was the real issue. In fact, these pleasantries were far more disconcerting than if Edwin was talking about barbequing babies or torturing hitch-hikers. These were the activities John in his infinite wisdom had ascribed for Edwin’s free time. The effect this “normal” conversation, or more accurately monologue was having on John was one of tension. He was reminded of the scene in American Psycho, where actor Christian Bale was casually talking to a guest about Genesis’; how the band were great in the early days, but far better the more commercialised they became. This normal, even mundane monologue was horrifically juxtaposed with Bale donning a white coat, covering the floor and furniture with plastic sheets and eventually hacking away at his guest with an axe. The only difference with this situation was Edwin would not need an axe, he could simply lean over and pop John’s head off his shoulders with his bare hands and discard it out his window. Every time Edwin glanced over at John - for longer than safety permitted whilst driving at these speeds on unknown roads, John was preparing to experience how it truly felt to be decapitated. 6

John had not uttered a word in response to Edwin’s questions, but each question uttered was embalmed in rhetoric so Edwin was able to continue unhindered. After forty minutes of the trip, John became fixated with his watch – another gift from his agent to show his “commitment.” It was a Rolex but John was convinced it was a fake, besides he cared little for brand names, so long as it succeeded with is primary function he was satisfied. Edwin noticed John’s attention had been diverted from his would be captor and the treacherous roads and followed his gaze, intrigued as to the origin of this distraction. Letting go of the steering wheel to examine John’s watch with both hands, thus withdrawing his attention from the road once more, he nodded impressed. ‘You do know that is genuine don’t you John?’ John shook his head, ‘Yup as real as they come…it is one of the cheaper models mind you, but a Rolex is a Rolex my friend and this is one! Listen John, I would like us to be friends, you know, our lives are now inextricably linked. We form part of the great circle of life, the food chain, an eco-system evolved from money and power and fuelled by public intrigue. Don’t hate me because your famous, that was not my doing…’ he glanced at the road just in time to avoid a cyclist who in her urgency to avoid certain death had opted to break the fall with the soft and squashy embrace of a flint wall. Gazing into his rear-view mirror, Edwin chuckled to himself…’Don’t hate me at all, my people are what keep your people in films, keep you acting, keep you singing, keep you dancing, keep you off the streets and out of jail…my people are the type of people you want to keep on your side…the types of people that you owe your successes to and sometimes, your people need to acknowledge this and in some way reciprocate!’ Edwin’s voice had become progressively louder and more authoritarian. John was sat to attention and doing his darndest to maintain eye-contact. He was also nodding the affirmative to every statement Edwin was making, desperate not to exacerbate the fury that may put an end to his measly life. ‘Now John, I have let you sit silently, rudely, obnoxiously ignoring every bit of conversation I have thrown your way and that is okay…but God help you if you choose to ignore this question…there is only so much dismissal and rejection a man can take, do you understand?’7

‘Y…y…yes sir…’ stammered John wiping the sweat from his brow.8

‘The question is this, why do you keep looking at your watch? It is purely for its aesthetic beauty? Is it the status thing? Or do you have somewhere you need to be?’9

‘I…I, err, I have a meeting with my agent at twelve…’ John looked up at Edwin, then closed his eyes and prepared to have his throat torn out and fed back to him. The Aston screeched to a half, John waited, shivering with anxiety induced hyperthermia; Edwin tapped him on the shoulder.10

‘It is eleven thirty five, where is this meeting?’11

‘At the Grosvenor, near Brown Street, about…’ John gulped and steadied his breathing, ‘…about ten minutes from Victoria…do you know it?’12

‘Know it, my nephew runs the place…now we have twenty five minutes for what is roughly and hour and a half’s journey traffic dependent, but, I’ll see what I can do.’ He shifted the vehicle back into first gear and accelerated heavily.13