1
“Hold up, hold up, Karan!” Ray yelled. He stood with one arm propped against a building in the cold alleyway as he took a sip from the lukewarm lager. “Dude, stop a second, will ya? I gotta take a leak,” he said.
“Ray, no!” Karan jerked around, scowling. “Come on, not here. Not now! You’re better than pissing in alleyways!”
“I’m not. I’m really not.” Ray shrugged. “Especially when it’s a matter of life or death.”
Karan shook his head. “Come on—I said we’d be there at eight!”
Ray’s hand moved from the wall and his frozen fingers grasped his zipper. “As if Zeke’s ever been on time for anything in his life? He probably doesn’t even know what time it is!” He let his trousers slide down and drop to his ankles and continued to drink stale beer as urine trickled. Then the dam burst, and his desperation was relieved. “Ahhh!”
Karan stared at the vintage watch on his wrist. “Dude, hurry up! I swear, five minutes, and we’ll be at Zeke’s, and you can piss all over his toilet seats.”
“Calm down, Tonto. You’ll see the new place soon. Just hold your horses, will you?
With his bare bottom exposed, the light caught Karan’s attention, and he shifted his gaze. Starting at the zip, he slowly raised his eyes. As they ascended, he got the briefest glimpse of Ray’s crown jewels, but it was taboo, so he looked away. Ray continued to pee as he drank. Karan turned his back and let out an indulgent ‘sigh’. He should have been frustrated, but he knew his buddy all too well.
A few feet away, Ray lingered in limbo. As the liquid vacated him like a powerful hose tossed on a lawn.
There was a splatter as warm urine hit the ground, like blood coursing from an artery. Ray was emptying himself one way or another. Urine or blood? It could be either.
The golden, beery respite released like furious demons desperately fleeing hell; it was one of life’s most fundamental tasks yet such a simple pleasure!
Karan paused in the dark with his back turned to refrain from the lure of another glimpse of Ray’s manhood. He glanced up at the night sky and took in the scene. The alley was cobbled, reminiscent of a German market town, but it wasn’t Germany; it was the South of England in September, and the weather had grown particularly torrid. The ferocious wind howled down the stark stone walls that served only to funnel its fury like a pack of tortured wolves ringing into Karan’s ears. He shuddered. The sound was unnerving.
Karan strolled to the end of the tunnel and noticed a vehicle mirror, and he paused to look becoming trapped alone in a bubble of his noise. Stuck in his reflection. He looked at it and saw Ray in the background, forcing him to juxtapose the two of them. They were of similar age, both mid-forties, but if you had to guess, Ray was the one who looked it!
Ray was destined to be bald from birth, and his metabolism had long since abandoned ship. A hedonistic lifestyle of sausage rolls, pork pies, and ale was catching up with him, but somehow it worked. His height, bulk, and rugged good looks had given him a stocky appearance. People naturally assumed he was a hard man and wouldn’t trifle him. He wasn’t ill-intentioned, but a lifetime of losing meant he revelled in his newfound glory.
Ray was a knowledgeable chemist, and no idiot, but fidelity and diplomacy were skills that sorely eluded him. He was the owner of many failed relationships. Yet, despite his detractors, something about his mid-forties ‘man’ look aided him in his quest to sleep his way through the local population of youthful females.
In contrast, Karan was boyish in complexion, tall, and lean. His parents had emigrated from India as betrothed children, and he had a naturally darker skin tone. A reason oft used by Ray when it came to explanations as to why Karan looked so much younger. A sentiment Karan would repeatedly do his best to ignore, given its wild cultural unacceptability. The truth was he did look younger. But it had everything to do with their difference in lifestyles and body maintenance and absolutely nothing to do with his ancestry.
Karan and his husband Ivan both ate, drank, and socialised vigorously. But when they weren’t, they were dedicated to living a holistic lifestyle that included gym, swim, spa, massages, and spin classes. In comparison, Ray spent his free time eating, drinking, fucking, or watching the History Channel. Karan’s only tell-tale sign of his age was the greying of his otherwise exceptionally black hair. But it consolidated his look, and there was little to suggest that he wasn’t closer to twenty than fifty.
After an eternity of piss Ray finally finished, pulled his clothes back up and opened his mouth as he closed his zip.
“Remind me again why we’re going?”
“We are going to see our friend,” chastened Karan.
“Hmmm,” a noise by way of reply. “More your friend than mine.”
“Shut up! We’ve known Zeke almost as long.”
“Knowing someone doesn’t make them my friend,” said Ray. “Were it not for you, I don’t think I’d see him at all!”
“Oh, now that’s just the beer talking. How many have you had?”
“Speaking of knowing him, does anyone know Zeke? I mean, do you? Really?” Ray continued as he waved his arms wildly in the air.
“What are you talking about?”
“Zeke,” replied Ray. “He’s in there, but he isn’t! I stare into those eyes, and I see nothing. It’s just a blank slate that stares back at me. The guy’s pathological.”
“If by ‘pathological’ you mean he calls you on your shit?” replied Karan. “Then you’re right!
“Anyway, you love telling the blank slate story.”
“Tabula rasa? Yeah, that’s because it’s weird!” Ray replied. “Ha-ha, anyway don’t get me started on that evening. That was the night you made me meet him!”
“Hey, you brought up blank slates! Anyway, the guy is perfectly normal, happily married, child on the way.”
“Happily married,” muttered Ray. He shook his head towards Karan’s platitude. A movement laced with cynicism and perhaps a nod towards his failed marriages.
“If anyone’s weird, it’s you,” Karan said, facing him. “You’re pathologically incapable of being happy.”
“I’m just saying,” continued Ray. “If your gut tells you something is off, it is! Do you know how many prescriptions I fill with that man’s name?”
“You’re drunk. Zeke’s cool, man, and you know it! When you dislike someone, you usually dislike the part that doesn’t resonate with yourself.”
“Save the psychobabble for school!” Words uttered, Ray, caught up with his friend, snuck up on him and barged into his side playfully.
“Well, we’re waiting on you now,” Ray joked as he turned about and ruffled Karan’s hair as he walked away. Head ruffled; Karan glanced up at his scalp.
“Eww.”
Oblivious to his friends’ protests, Ray walked, talked, and drank. Warm beer dripped onto his t-shirt and fell towards the floor, a beery tear that fell like blood and smashed and broke on the cold concrete.
“Anyway, he says weird thimgs!” The mispronounced words fell out of Ray’s mouth as he oafishly multitasked.
“Well, if he does, at least he can pronounce the word ‘things’,” Karan replied as he caught up to his buddy. “Anyway, Zeke is complicated. You would be too if you’d been through as much trauma as he has! Cheer up, you grouch. We’re off to see friends, drink—” Karan’s own words trailed off as he snatched the lager from Ray’s hand and stole a sip before his friend could protest. “Eugh, that’s warm,” Karan proclaimed, shuddering as he let the lukewarm liquid glide past his lips.
“Well, it’s yours now,” Ray beamed with a bullish smile.
They turned left at the end and disappeared into the darkness, their voices now just an echo that danced into the night. In the background, Ray’s warm urine pooled like blood as it trickled down the cold stone towards the drain.
Stood at the perimeter gate, the duo huddled side by side. The journey (time that included Ray’s pit stop) had taken forty-five minutes.
“Fifteen minutes.” Ray had said as they left his house on foot. They were cold, shivery, and keen to escape the elements. Yet as they entered the gate, they stopped and turned to each other, both sets of eyes aghast as they took in the vision.
“Woah,” said Ray.
“Fucking Woah, you mean?” It reminded Karan of a secret hideaway an eccentric Bond villain would own.
“What did you say Zeke did for a living?” asked an unusually speechless Ray.
“Erm, art dealer?” Karan answered.
Ray eyed up the converted barn before he replied, “Arms dealer more like.”
Karan laughed, still barely able to believe his senses. He had seen some of the renovations but had little interest in visiting the Olsen’s construction site/fuck den. Outside of social occasions, he hadn’t seen much of them since they bought the land. No one really had. Sometimes it annoyed him, but he knew he was probably jealous of their marital bliss.
To Ray, marriage was a disaster and to Karan a vacancy. His husband Ivan ran a pharmaceutical company and travelled regularly, often, frequently, usually, mostly. There were many ways to phrase it, but Ivan was typically in absentia.
“We should enter,” Karan said to Ray. His words were laced with a tinge of anxiety. They’d been stood for an excessive amount of time, and the silence had only grown louder.
The main building loomed before them. A behemoth, incandescent before their eyes. It was no longer the dilapidated, small, ancient barn. It had come a long way.
The day after they’d purchased it, Zeke had insisted that Karan came to see it. He’d told him all about it, their plans, and what they would do with it. Zeke even made Karan go inside. He itched every time the memory was recollected in his brain, forever scattered across his mind. He was scared of what it could have been, but now he feared what it was. It was irrational. But isn’t that what fear is? Irrational?
Karan had dreaded an evening in a small, dirty barn. This, however, was not that! It was a stunning duplex, contemporary and old, stylish, and shabby. It was both modern chic and intimidatingly cool. Karan knew Zeke made good money, but this was something else.
They had kept a few of the original wooden beams and filled them with humongous windows. Panes that featured hefty metal shutters, primed and ready to slide across. They stood on duty like an executioner, hovering over the axe. LED lights shone out from behind the windows like a lighthouse. Karan looked at the shutters once more and felt uneasy. Could they keep people out? Or trap them inside?
The compound contained the main house, a garage, and an annexe. Beyond that, there was only land for miles, an open field that met a tall electric fence. It had once seemed like a never-ending project. But now it was complete. It was almost incomprehensible.
They reached the front door and hovered in darkness for too long until Karan stepped forward and pressed the doorbell. The circular button illuminated at the edges and changed colour as it spun. It reminded him of a Catherine wheel, but the light came without sound as he stood captivated. They were trapped in a bubble, waiting, had the doorbell rung? Did anyone know they were here? Ray stepped forward and prepared to wrap his fists against the robust metal door. But as he balled his hand and readied for an attack, the door creaked before swinging open like a safe vault. They remained lifeless as their senses were assaulted by lights, sights, smells, and sounds. The visceral, sensual attack on their wits landed mere moments apart. It left their brains attempting to decipher and take it all in at once. From complete silence and relative darkness, they found themselves momentarily stunned.
Zeke’s figure appeared like a mirage as the door rolled open. His intimidating frame loomed and hung in the entrance. He was of average height but muscular in build, dressed in shorts, a vest, and flip-flops, which showed large chunks of his tattooed body. He registered the pair and ran his hands through his jet-black hair. His bright blue eyes glared at them menacingly before a smile appeared and etched itself slowly over his face.
“Guysss,” he said excitedly as he stretched out his muscular frame to accommodate a double hug.
Keen to enter the Elysium but unable to avoid the clutches of the outstretched armed giant, they entered awkwardly in unison, immediately finding themselves trapped in a bear-like hug.
“Karan, Ray,” Zeke exclaimed excitedly.
After almost having the life physically squeezed out of them, they were set down by Zeke, who addressed them individually. He took Karan first and grabbed him firmly by the shoulders.
“Karan,” he asked. “How’s Ivan?”
“He’s good, Zeke, he’s good.”
“And how are you?”
“I’m—”
Zeke immediately turned his attention to Ray and lunged toward him. He clutched at his arms in a movement that almost physically raised him.
“And Ray,” he said, “you smell like beer.”
“Brought one for the road,” Ray replied.
“Naturally, who doesn’t? That must have been some journey!” Zeke then stared at him inquisitively. “But the real question is do you smell too much like beer or not enough?”
“Never enough, buddy, never enough,” Ray answered. He snuck past his host and sauntered away. Having made his escape, he turned back towards Karan. Their eyes connected just long enough for Ray to spin his finger around his ear and mouth the words ‘crazy’ while pointing at Zeke.
Karan chuckled and rolled his eyes simultaneously before stepping in and disrobing.
“Ray being Ray?” Zeke asked.
Karan nodded. “You know how he is after a few?”
“Absolutely,” replied Zeke. “Still, we can’t have a housewarming party without his brand of charm, can we?”
“He does have a certain je ne sais quoi!” replied Karan. Having entered and prised himself from the long grey trench coat, Karan found a nearby hook and hung it neatly inside the front door.
“Digging the place,” Karan said, turning towards his host. Zeke grinned.
“It’s cool, isn’t it?”
“Buddy, cool doesn’t even cut it. I love the garage.”
“Wait until you see what’s inside it.”
“You got the GTA?” Zeke smiled some more.
“Among others.”
“Dude, I gotta see! Those things cost a fortune. Do you remember looking them up online years ago?” he asked rhetorically.
“All in good time, my friend. Come, let me show you around.”
“How’s Cassie?” Karan asked as they walked.
“At her mother's,” replied Zeke.
“Oh!”
“Ah, it’s nothing. I’m away in the morning.”
“But it’s your housewarming! It’s unlike Cassie to miss a soirée.”
“She’s pregnant. And you’re welcome!” he said, hitting Karan playfully on the arm. “You’re not missing out. It’s mood swing city! Anyway, take a deep breath, and look around you. It’s like a scene from Scarface in here. I know it’s still inside of her, but this is no place for my baby.”
Karan laughed, “Duh, of course. Although presumably less blood and machine guns?”
“For now,” Zeke replied, winking at him.
“The funny thing is, I wouldn’t put it past you.” Karan laughed. “Zeke Olsen, the man who can get you anything.”
“Cheers to that,” replied Zeke.
Karan paused before moving the conversation along, “New York, right?”
Zeke clicked his fingers in Karan’s direction. “That’s the one!”
“What is it you do when you’re out there again?”
“The magic is in the art, my friend.”
Karan cocked an eyebrow and looked at Zeke. “Come on!”
“I’ve told you a thousand times, buddy! Anyway,” he said, placing his arm around Karan’s shoulder, “Let’s not talk about work now, it’s playtime. Let’s go upstairs. You two were the last to arrive.”
