Chapter One - a chance ...
**
Frost walked slowly towards the bar, his leg ached like a mother fucka and that didn’t include his lower back, his hip nor his groin, he just felt like shit!
Taking a leak out back didn’t help either, he was sorely tempted on more than one occasion to slip into the women’s, to take a piss.
It was more pride that had him accepting the whole goddamn situation, Stone’s order to demolish the inside of the men’s because some toss or tossers couldn’t keep their trap shut.
Making his way to the bar, Spanner was busy scrawling, muttering to himself.
“What you up to old timer?”
“Bloody inventory”.
“Borin’ shit?!” Frost stated getting up on the stool on his second attempt, not thinking Spanner would answer with his head down and the pen in his hand writing God only knew.
“Fucken’ Beetle”.
“Hmmm”, Frost answered trying to get comfortable, his dick now protesting at being squashed inside his unpreferred jeans, he liked the button downs if he was being honest, but they needed a wash, and that goddamn simple task was goddamn fucking too hard.
Everything was too hard. The fact he had to ask Stone’s woman to do his laundry was downright embarrassing.
His slug was forced into early retirement, not by choice but necessity! Poor prick literally hadn’t had any action in weeks.
Not that the women were avoiding Frost, more along the lines of all the women just pissing him off.
He was just majorly pissed off in general. With both, pussy and his slug, mouths and his slug, hands and his slug. Gah!
His slug just down right pissed him off and yet he felt sorry for him. Poor fucka wanted attention but that goddamn pissed him off even more.
Desperate much!
Frost knew Beetle had intervened, showed some regulars the door, complainin’ about being on top all the time with no rewards, well fuck me! It’s not like Frost had a choice.
Ridin’ cowgirl all the time did get monotonous, try living with it!
“Thinks he’s got the right to take what eva the fuck he wants”.
“Who?" asked Frost, joining the conversation again.
“Thinks I don’t see, I fucken’ see everything. I gotta. Prez watches everythin’ I fucken’ do”.
“Who?”
“Your mate, Beetle. Took the goddamn air fryer”.
Frost smiled, at least he tried. He was in too much pain to laugh out right.
“Brand new 2 lt thing, wasn’t even out of the box. Said Stone gave him the right to take what he needed. Mind you, the cunt was told that weeks back. Fucken’ thief”.
Frost didn’t want to admit it, but he was jealous. Both Stone and Beetle now had good women, Ninja was the latest addition to the club.
Didn’t ride a big boy like the men but a Japanese bike, fucking flies every chance she gets. Leaves us all coasting behind in her wake, just gives Beetle a hard on he reckons.
Probably why she rides so fast, but that means Kam's gotta wait till we catch up and she joins the pack again.
“Got them keys?”
“Have. Marked them off like the rest of the shit”
Frost looked at Spanners inventory.
"We lending tools?"
"Always have. Write down who takes what. Alcohol, kitchen equipment, what gets taken to the laundromat, air-fryers", he said exasperated.
Frost snickered, getting up to leave while leaning heavily on one of the stools Beetle hand carved being so good with the tools and all, his Kam an expert at blacksmithing too.
“Laundry, gotta count the pillowcases for fuck sake. Even they go missin’ if I don’t count each single one. Where you headin’ to this morning boy?” he asked lifting his head.
“Some chiro”.
Frost had been pulled, pushed, prodded and hung upside down, twisted and squeezed and he’d damn near had enough. If anything, the last few weeks had him feeling fucking worse.
“Feel like I need a fuckin’ walkin’ stick to be honest. You get around better than me, ya’ cunt”.
“Shouldn’t ’ave fucked another man’s woman!”
“Fuck a bullet to the head would be less painful than a bung leg. Even the break was less painful than this”, he confessed, feeling as lame as his dick.
“That’s ... sorry”, Spanner said sliding the keys across the bar. “Gotta take me another piss. I’ll see you this arvo then ...".
“Promise me old man. If I ever need a walking stick, shoot me. Fucking put a bullet in my brain or give me a loaded gun and I’ll do it myself”.
“More like shit for brains! I’ll chain ya’ to an electric wheelchair before that happens. How do you like that?”
“Worse”.
“Exactly. No gun and no bullets, you dumb cunt!”
With that Spanner got up and walked out back like he was ten years younger than Frost. Lucky bastard, he thought making his way to the front doors, slowly.
Last thing he needed were more bleedin’ hearts watching him walk like a cripple.
Stepping outside, he felt mist spraying his face, the huge verandah was no shelter against the pelting rain. “Fuckin’ awesome”, he said raising his arms in defeat!
Looking over at his bike, then over at the van which was near on twenty metres away he cursed.
Riding in bad weather had never bothered him, sitting in a cage, yep! That pretty much was an insult to a one percenter.
He made his way down the couple of steps, grimacing each time his right leg lagged behind, stepping down into slush.
It had taken twenty minutes to put on his socks, another twelve to get his feet inside his boots, fuck doing them up. Knowing they were only going to be coming off, he'd put up with wet socks.
His clean tee, leather cut and the oldest pair of jeans he owned were getting drenched. He had no choice but to walk, running was completely out of the question, he’d have fallen over for sure, like the old man he felt. Probably break another “fuckin’ bone” he mumbled.
When his phone rang, he dropped the keys in the dirt by accident, “Me breakin’ my leg wasn't good luck Big Fella, how about some divine intervention”, he yelled up at the sky before bending over and retrieving the keys.
Scowling when his phone rang for the umpteenth time, he swiped it angrily, now limping towards the van.
“Yep!”
“Mr. Bellamy?”
“Who’s askin’?”
“My name is Piper. Piper Scott”.
“And ...?” he asked making his way to the van, his hair now completely saturated.
“Urmmm! You have an appointment with me at eleven am. I’m just ringing to see if you’re still coming?”
“I am!” he said shoving the keys in the ignition before attempting to get into the front driver's seat.
“Good. I don’t normally take on new clients. You’re a referral from a colleague. Last resort ...”
“You sayin’ I’m at the end of choices by seein’ you? You writin’ me off lady?” Frost asked angrily.
“No! No, goodness no! I’ll see you at eleven then?" he heard her say, when she said nothing else, Frost went to hang up.
“Oh! Wait! Urmmm. The address, it’s different. It’s the back entrance. Huge concrete wall, green door, press the buzzer”.
“Got it”, he said dismissively, this time hanging up the call and getting in the vehicle.
Needing both hands and one good leg he got in awkwardly, doing up his seatbelt because you couldn’t be too careful, he finally turned the ignition.
Pressing down on the accelerator, grateful for small mercies that the van was an automatic, the slight movement had Frost catching his breath. Convinced his goddamn leg broke out in a sweat.
The pain was unbearable. He knew he’d been losing a lot of condition; the difference with each leg was becoming apparent which freaked him the fuck out.
If something couldn’t be done, his something would be a bullet, or start taking more pills. Honour over dishonor, great fucking choice if it meant he was either no longer breathing or no longer in any condition to be breathing!
Taking prescribed pills didn’t truly do anything, his pain overrode the fucking getting high experience. Coming to this conclusion now pissed him off for another reason.
Rubbing his leg, the wipers screeching in protest, he made his way to 37 Elm St, right in the heart of the CBD.
Must let the Secretary know the van needs a wheel rim, new blades, and a good service thought Frost, peering through a bleary windscreen, the wipers trying to clear his view every few seconds.
“Well fuck me”, he said looking at all of the condos, the million-dollar strip impressing him much.
Might need to sell a few more beers at the bar, bring in more clientele at the new sex club, even charge more dollar on their transportation prices. Not that they weren’t doing a bad trade, they were already charging more than most, had the best security hands down.
**
Pulling around the back, Frost felt like a steamed dim sim, the heater worked mighty fine but his clothes were damp, dripping in places and his hair hung like a limp dick. Looking down he apologised, "Poor slug!"
Walking like the cripple he was he pressed the buzzer, getting pissed on some more. The heavens laughing at his dilemma he thought cursing again.
“Thanks, Big Fella, mighty fine weather today I’d say”, he said looking up at the sky, blinking away the rain droplets misting his vision, like the windscreen he thought feeling more foul.
“Excuse me,” said a voice.
“It’s me .... Gabe”, he added as an afterthought.
“Sorry, Gabe. May I have your surname please”.
“Bellamy! Look lady, I’m getting rained on, I’m aching like a bitch and I ain’t in the mood for introductions while I’m standing out here like a would be burglar casin’ your place”.
“Oh! Yes. I’ll buzz you in”, she said quickly.
B-ZZZZZZZZZ
Shoving a little harder than necessary the green door opened to an oasis. A fucking goddamn oasis!
There was a pool Frost could see with a diving board, jets pumping down one end. “Fuck me”, he said under his breath, a fucking lap pool of all the goddamn things.
Palms, deciduous trees, shrubs, ferns, moss growing between the stone pathway which he needed to be careful of. Last thing he needed was another goddam break, then he'd really use that bullet!
Flowers, so many flowers of pinks, oranges, reds, purples, yellow, ‘love yellow’ he thought looking around.
“I’m up here”, said a lady’s voice.
“Yep! I’m comin’ just ain’t doin’ it fast woman!” he replied, his thoughts no longer engrossed by his surroundings but pained.
That’s because it's pissin’ down with rain, half your body is protestin', and she’s standin’ inside where it’s dry dip shit.
**
