Read Online Kingdom by Anderson O'Donnell - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Anderson O'Donnell
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the club but had actually been allowed to enter with said small dog—all of whom he had never seen before in his life. Still, he considered, it could be worse: Chase and Mikey could have brought the ponytail guy from the last party.
Dylan placed the tray—the kind on which his mother used to bring him saltines and flat ginger ale when, as a child, he was home sick from school—at the bottom of the bed before again reaching into his pocket, taking out the vial and snorting a massive line of blow.
The music in the bar was changing, an aggressiveness creeping into the lounge beats, and Dylan dumped more white powder onto the tray, again chopping it up into several lines but this time he turned back to the two girls who were eyeing the coke like starving orphans from a Dickens novel.
“I’m sorry,” Dylan said, as he gestured to the coke, “I’m being a terrible host. Please.”
The blonde from the limo, the one with the red nails, swooped in, one hand holding back her hair, the other pressing her right nostril as the left hovered up two lines. She tilted her head back, her eyes shut, and a smile slowly crept across her face.
“Wow,” she said. “Just…Wow. That is killer coke. I’m Sarah by the way.”
“And I’m Brandi,” said her friend, who had better tits but a less pretty face. “Is it cool if we hang out and party?”
“Yeah, it’s cool. How did you guys wind up in the limo?”
“Um, that guy,” Sarah replied, pointing across toward the other bed at Chase.
Chase waved, giving Dylan the thumbs-up before snorting a line off his own tray.
“Cool. Are you guys…models?”
“Yes!” they shrieked in unison.
“Oh my God,” Sarah said, “You are like, so perceptive. I mean, a lot of people eventually figure out that we’re models. I mean—hello, right? Look at this bod!” She reached over and squeezed Brandi’s right tit, smiling at the other girl and sniffling once, twice, before continuing.
“But not right away and they’re usually just guessing by that point. And yeah it’s not like either of us are doing Fashion Week or anything like that and success doesn’t just come overnight but Brandi knows this guy who has a lot of connections in the industry and he thinks we both could be stars, easily. By the way, this is killer coke. Did I already say that? Sorry if I did but baby this shit is to die for.”
Sarah leaned back over the tray, did another massive line, a line Dylan had cut for himself because the situation was deteriorating quickly. He glanced over at Chase and Mikey’s bed: Mikey was rolling an enormous joint while Chase and the slightly overweight girl they picked up did bump after bump after bump, any sort of discretion abandoned, his hand creeping up her thigh, moving under her leather mini skirt.
“So, are you famous or something?” Brandi asked, not even waiting for Dylan’s answer before diving forward and taking another bump.
“No,” Dylan replied, “Not famous. Not famous at all.”
“Are you sure? I think you’re lying…”
Sarah leaned over to Brandi and whispered something in her ear. Brandi’s eyes got big and she leaned forward, her mouth open, her lips glistening.
“I’m usually not very political or anything. But your dad,” she said slowly, “was sexy.”
“You do realize that it was exactly 10 years ago that my father blew his brains out?”
“Brains—yeah smart guys can definitely be hot too,” Brandi continued, raising her voice over the music. “That new guy—what’s his name? The one on all the ads…”
“Heffernan,” Sarah added.
“Yes, Heffernan. He reminds me of your dad. You see all those giant posters downtown? God who knew politicians could be so fucking gorgeous? Those eyes…” Brandi said, finishing her martini that Dylan didn’t remember her ordering, a martini that might as well have materialized out of the smoke drifting up from every corner of the club—tobacco, cloves, weed, and meth.
“You know,
Dylan placed the tray—the kind on which his mother used to bring him saltines and flat ginger ale when, as a child, he was home sick from school—at the bottom of the bed before again reaching into his pocket, taking out the vial and snorting a massive line of blow.
The music in the bar was changing, an aggressiveness creeping into the lounge beats, and Dylan dumped more white powder onto the tray, again chopping it up into several lines but this time he turned back to the two girls who were eyeing the coke like starving orphans from a Dickens novel.
“I’m sorry,” Dylan said, as he gestured to the coke, “I’m being a terrible host. Please.”
The blonde from the limo, the one with the red nails, swooped in, one hand holding back her hair, the other pressing her right nostril as the left hovered up two lines. She tilted her head back, her eyes shut, and a smile slowly crept across her face.
“Wow,” she said. “Just…Wow. That is killer coke. I’m Sarah by the way.”
“And I’m Brandi,” said her friend, who had better tits but a less pretty face. “Is it cool if we hang out and party?”
“Yeah, it’s cool. How did you guys wind up in the limo?”
“Um, that guy,” Sarah replied, pointing across toward the other bed at Chase.
Chase waved, giving Dylan the thumbs-up before snorting a line off his own tray.
“Cool. Are you guys…models?”
“Yes!” they shrieked in unison.
“Oh my God,” Sarah said, “You are like, so perceptive. I mean, a lot of people eventually figure out that we’re models. I mean—hello, right? Look at this bod!” She reached over and squeezed Brandi’s right tit, smiling at the other girl and sniffling once, twice, before continuing.
“But not right away and they’re usually just guessing by that point. And yeah it’s not like either of us are doing Fashion Week or anything like that and success doesn’t just come overnight but Brandi knows this guy who has a lot of connections in the industry and he thinks we both could be stars, easily. By the way, this is killer coke. Did I already say that? Sorry if I did but baby this shit is to die for.”
Sarah leaned back over the tray, did another massive line, a line Dylan had cut for himself because the situation was deteriorating quickly. He glanced over at Chase and Mikey’s bed: Mikey was rolling an enormous joint while Chase and the slightly overweight girl they picked up did bump after bump after bump, any sort of discretion abandoned, his hand creeping up her thigh, moving under her leather mini skirt.
“So, are you famous or something?” Brandi asked, not even waiting for Dylan’s answer before diving forward and taking another bump.
“No,” Dylan replied, “Not famous. Not famous at all.”
“Are you sure? I think you’re lying…”
Sarah leaned over to Brandi and whispered something in her ear. Brandi’s eyes got big and she leaned forward, her mouth open, her lips glistening.
“I’m usually not very political or anything. But your dad,” she said slowly, “was sexy.”
“You do realize that it was exactly 10 years ago that my father blew his brains out?”
“Brains—yeah smart guys can definitely be hot too,” Brandi continued, raising her voice over the music. “That new guy—what’s his name? The one on all the ads…”
“Heffernan,” Sarah added.
“Yes, Heffernan. He reminds me of your dad. You see all those giant posters downtown? God who knew politicians could be so fucking gorgeous? Those eyes…” Brandi said, finishing her martini that Dylan didn’t remember her ordering, a martini that might as well have materialized out of the smoke drifting up from every corner of the club—tobacco, cloves, weed, and meth.
“You know,
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