Fashion Kills 3
Chapter 3
POV OF ASHER
“I would do horrible things to your colon,” Sebastian tells his date.
His date smiles, “Prove it.”
I'm walking behind those two. Tyson is behind me. We've left the bar at that moment. I watch as Sebastian is squeezing this guy's ass. The guy was Tyson's friend. I'm looking at Sebastian and realize that he is acting how I would usually be acting in this situation. Even the way he pulls the guy away down a dark alley seems to be something I would do.
“You got a ---”
I pull out a condom and hand it to him, “Hurry up please...”
Sebastian takes the XL magnum, “Damn you don't got anything...smaller...”
I keep forgetting. Sebastian's dick isn't as big as mine. I laugh a little bit but shake my head no. I swear his date is sizing me up at that moment probably thinking that he's about to get fucked by the wrong guy. Sebastian shrugs probably thinking he'll make it work and probably too horny to give a fuck about how the condom fits. He pulls the guy into the dark alley in downtown Los Angeles.
“OH FUCK ME! FUCK ME HARD YO. DAM LONG DICK THAT ASS!”
“WHOSE ASS IS THAT?”
“Uh---what's your name again?”
“Sebastian.”
“IT'S SEBASTIAN'S ASS!” Sebastian's date is screaming at the top of his lungs.
It's awkward as fuck to say the least. I take a few steps away from the alley. It's even more awkward because people are walking by leaving the gay bar but Sebastian is probably too drunk to give a fuck and I owe it to him to be a good wing's man. There have been many a dark alley night with a random hook up for me as well.
“Those two seem to be having fun...” Tyson tells me.
Tyson licks his lips. He's sexy. He has always been sexy to me. He's just a little bit shorter than me. He's masculine. He has a Caesar cut and pearly white teeth that are contract perfectly to his dark skin. He is into football and has on a jersey. We met years back at a sports bar actually. I was staring at his ass when he jumped up because his team got touchdown. I ended up being the one scoring that night.
“Yeah. They're having a ball,” I let him know.
“I'm saying---there's another alley two blocks down,” Tyson lets me know, “I'm just trying to figure out how I can incorporate the Vicadins I took tonight. I'm feeling real relaxed. I'm pretty sure I can make your dick touch my lung.”
I know this street. I know every alley a little bit too well. Tyson has some nice dick sucking lips. He has those lips that made you think he used to go to town on a pacifier when he was kid. A part of me wants to shove my thick 10 inch dick down his esophagus and test his gag reflex.
I wonder if Diamonte sucks dick. He probably thinks he's too classy to do that.
Why the fuck am I thinking about Diamonte right now?
“I'm kind of not in the mood,” I respond.
“Asher? Not in the mood for sex?” Tyson laughs, “I never thought I'd see the day. Asher's grown up...damn man!”
“I wouldn't say all that. I just...have a lot on my mind that's all,” I respond.
Like the fact that I think I killed a guy.
“Aw shit. So you're still the same Asher who broke up with me by cheating on me with my sister and her husband?”
He's not laughing about it this time. I'm sure he's still sore about it. Tyson was damn near suicidal for a while after that. I literally had to send Sebastian to talk to him every night.
I look over at Tyson, “Oh yeah...I'm sorry about that.”
“All because I told you loved you the night before,” Tyson shakes his head, “Were those words really all that scary?”
“Listen. I'm not the commitment type,” I explain to him.
“Really, because we vibed so well. We spent everyday together. Sex was everything. We did everything together. We had so much in common...”
“Listen Tyson. Maybe that's the problem,” I respond, “Maybe I'm not looking for someone I have so much in common with...”
“Then what are you looking for?”
I didn't know. I stand there for a moment thinking about it. Tyson is still in love with me. He's probably too proud to tell me it again but the way he's looking at me scares me. There is so much hope there. I mean I broke his heart on purpose. I literally went out of his way to sleep with his sister and her husband because I felt like that was the only way Tyson would end our relationship. I was too much of a pussy to end it myself. You would think that would be enough. No. Years later Tyson is hitting up my best friend because he misses 'us'.
Sebastian comes out of the alley followed by his date who looks like he's a little dazed and confused.
“Finished?” I ask him.
“Yeah,” he responds. He doesn't have that happy look of excitement in his eyes. I know Sebastian isn't the type to do hookups. He always feels like shit afterwards. He looks like he wants to take a million showers right now. It's always kind of funny to see his face after sex.
I nod glad that I can use this as an excuse, “Tyson, listen I should get Sebastian home. He's a little fucked up.”
Sebastian looks at me with a raised eyebrow, “What boy? I'm good...”
“See...” I lie, “He's slurring already. Gotta go. Bye. I'll call you---”
I get away from Tyson pulling Sebastian with me. Tyson is sexy. He is everything. Anyone would be proud to call him their boyfriend. Hell I was proud at a point to call him my boyfriend. That wasn't the scary part. The scary part was the next step. The scary part was love. I wasn't in love with Tyson and for some reason---I couldn't fake it.
=======================
Two days pass and I still can't take my fucking mind of Diamonte Rose and the murder. For some reason my mind has intertwined the two things. I can't think of the murder without thinking about Diamonte. I can't think of Diamonte without thinking about the murder. I left him at the bar that day in the bathroom. I keep wondering why he is offering me a job. I keep wondering if I did the right thing by turning him down. I mean he is the face of B&R. He could skyrocket my career. But then there is the murder. Any involvement in that could end my life.
I can't be around Diamonte. I've made up my mind. He is right however. I do need to throw myself into work which is why I head over to Lauren Gene's Jeans.
“Lauren...what's popping!”
I run in there. LG Jeans were my first gig. It's a small local jean company that has only one location. They don't pay much but they pay something plus Lauren has a big ass crush on me. She is a pretty girl too and honestly when I was younger I may or may not have let her jack me off during one of her annual calendar shoots. Ever since then I was always Mr. October.
Lauren working with some other models doing some fittings. I see a couple of the guys that I recognize. Jason Crew, Lonnie Apples, Xi Chang and Brody Matthews are all there. I wave at the guys and for some reason the guys don't wave back. They look at each other as though confused about something. It's a little strange. Usually models don't get shady until they actually have made it. We were all struggling and they knew I got this gig literally 'handed' to me every October regardless.
“Asher---wh, what are you doing here?” Lauren asks with a broken smile.
“Um...it's the annual LG calendar campaign. What do you mean what am I doing here?” I ask taking my shirt off at that moment, “I'm doing the same thing I've done for the last three years.”
“Actually---you aren't.”
Brody Matthews breaks out into laughter. I stare at the other male models. Some are struggling not to laugh. Others are barely hiding how amused they are. At this moment I don't know what's going on but it's not hard to see the jokes on me.
“Lauren is this about me being...” I say leaning in towards her at that moment to whisper, “Gay...”
“Oh be real. Most of the male models in LA are,” she rolls her eyes, “You think I give a shit about that. If you're sexy, you're sexy.”
At that moment I grab onto my crotch. The imprint of my dick is in my jeans. She looks at it. The desire is clearly there. It hasn't gone anywhere.
I lick my lips and lean up against her, “I thought we had...you know, an agreement...”
“Listen. You're sexy and all that and I'd suck your dick until I taste the rainbows like skittles,” she acknowledges but shrugs her shoulders, “But you've been blacklisted.”
“Come again.”
“Blacklisted like---shut out---it's a term that means---”
“I'm a model, I'm not an idiot,” I stop her, “I know what blacklisted means. What I don't understand is why the hell I'm blacklisted.”
“Word of mouth. You made some enemies in some real high places,” she responds before shaking her head and adding lightly, “Honestly...he's an enemy that I'd rather not make.”
“Who...” I say but then pause, “Let me guess. Diamonte Rose?”
She shrugs and does this weird motion with her head, “I am not saying any names but some roses do have thorns. You should have handled with care.”
I can't believe this. I ignore the laughing models and storm out of this place. This shit is not happening. I find myself calling my agent. Conveniently he isn't picking up his phone and his secretary tells me that she doesn't know when he'll be around. This is the same guy who worked 24/7 thinking that I'm going to be the next Tyson Beckford. Since when does he not answer my phone calls.
I find myself calling contact after contact.
All of the same. They are either avoiding me or they are just telling me weird things like “I can't work with you right now” or “I'll have to get back to you on that”. These are small companies. Small basic companies.
Then I realize Diamonte is powerful. He's more powerful than I gave him credit for.
By the end of the week I realize I have no choice but to do what I have to do. I end up walking into Diamonte Rose's office. I'm sweating bricks. Last time I talked to him I'd told I'd never worked for him but now I was showing up at the B&R office in downtown Los Angeles. I try to dress nice throwing on a blazer and some LG Jeans that Lauren let me keep from one of the shoots. The last thing I need is the King of Shade reading me to oblivion.
The building is huge...it's classically beautiful to the point that I can walk in and tell that it's a fashion building. I mean it's literally one of the nicest buildings I've ever seen in my life. The architecture is all fancy and modern looking. All the people I swear must be models. It's kind of intimidating not knowing if I'm the most beautiful person in the room.
“Excuse me...I'm here to see---”
“Third floor. Suite 210,” the woman at the front reception stated before handing me a guest pass, “He's expecting you but if I were you I'd still knock.”
She barely looks up from her desk. He was expecting me? She has to be talking about Diamonte. The fact that he has a guest badge laid out on the front desk is even more intimidating. Damn. Can you say control freak?
I get up to the third floor using the badge she gave me to activate the elevator. When I walk onto the third floor I realize it's an all white suite. There are touches of deep beautiful magenta in the paintings and decorum around the office. Everything else is white though. I feel like if I touch anything I might get it dirty or something.
I see the door. Suite 210 and knock.
Someone comes to open it. I recognize the woman. She's the same woman who came to my door.
“My name is Neverland.”
“Seriously?” I ask. What kind of name is that.
She ignores my interest, “Right this way please.”
Neverland walks me into the room. That is where I see him. He's posted up with a portfolio in his hand and glasses. As usual he's doing work. I've never seen this guy not doing work. Diamonte has on a dramatic gray blazer that is cut in a futuristic way. It is designed with precise folds that give the illusion of a three-dimensional shape. Underneath his dramatic gray blazer is a plain gray effect that seems to balance everything out. To add color to his outfit, he has some expensive looking red pointed toe shoes. It literally looks like he is wearing a million dollars. My eyes are glued onto him as he confidently looks at his portfolio. I don't think I ever stared at someone so hard. It's not even how attractive he is. Every person I ever dated, fucked or even entertained is probably more attractive than Diamonte Rose...physically. But there is something else about him. There is something so much deeper that makes me so into him. I swear this man's style is to die for. Who dresses like this just to go to work?
“I figured you would show up,” he tells me, “Took you long enough.”
“You blacklisted me?” I ask, “Really?”
“I get what I want,” he explains with a smile, “You just seem to be in this season.”
“Jesus Christ. Diamonte...”
“Mr. Rose,” Neverland corrects me.
I ignore his assistant and look over at Diamonte, “Mr. Rose, I'm not a trend...”
“Everything that matters is a trend,” he responds relatively quickly before dropping the portfolio he was looking at on the table, “Take a look at that. Tell me what comes to mind.”
I look at the folder he leaves on the table. I'm confused. He's asking me my opinion. I pick up the portfolio and open it. That's when I see it. I realize this isn't a portfolio. These are police photos of the body of Alexander Bautista!
Chapters 3.2
===================================
POV of DIAMONTE
“This is...” Asher starts saying but stop because he realize Neverland is standing right there.
I cross my arms, “You can talk. All the living furniture signs non-disclosure agreements before they start. She knows everything...”
It takes him a while before he realizes I'm referring to Neverland as the living furniture. I watch as he scrolls through the pictures of the portfolio. He's weak. He can barely look at them. He throws them onto the table, takes a moment to himself and then hides the fact that he's terrified behind a weak sense of humor.
“You sure know the way to a man's heart. Pictures of your ex husband's dead body. I think I'm falling for you Diamonte Rose.”
“You might want to get the fuck up,” I warn him.
Asher sighs a little bit, “I thought you said you were going to handle this. I thought you said that...you know...the body was taken care of.”
“I thought so too,” I say rolling my eyes, “Unfortunately I'm surrounded by idiots who can't even hide bodies. I swear sometimes I sit there and wonder how the models I hire stay alive. I barely see them eat. Now I'm sure it's become clear that they eat at their own brains.”
Neverland looks over at me, “Sir...”
“Why are you still here?” I ask, “Get my publicist and my lawyer on the phone. Release a statement about how sad and distraught and blah, blah, blah. Why are you still here? Move. 2 seconds have passed bitch...I BETTER HEAR THE SOUND OF DESPERATE HEELS!”
Neverland is out of the room within 5 seconds. I can see that Asher is worried. To be honest this is more pesty than I originally intended.
He isn't smiling and when I make my way around my table to him I realize that Asher is very serious as he sits in my office. He is thinking. He's worried. He looks like he's about to have another panic attack. That's something that I can't afford right now.
“It's over,” Asher is saying, “We're going to jail. Either I'm going to end up someone's bottom in cell block D or I'm going to have to shank motherfuckas. How the fuck do you make a shank? Oh my god---I don't know how to make a fucking shank. Does Siri teach you how to make a shank? OH MY GOD---is there Siri in prison?”
He's gotten up. He's pacing back and forward. The boy is attractive I'll give him that and he manages to maintain his masculinity even though he has completely started acting like a bitch. I cross my arms and shake my head.
“The plan has changed,” I tell him, “You're panicking. You're worried.”
“NO SHIT!”
He probably forgets where he is. He probably forgets who he's talking to. I don't mind. I follow Asher until he slows down enough for me to grab him. I grab onto his muscular bicep and hold him still. I look in his eyes. This is the closest we've ever been. His slanted eyes stare into mine and we exchange a moment that makes me a little uncomfortable.
I quickly let him go. I usually don't let those moments happen and I'm confused on what passed between us in that quick second.
Back to business.
“Things are going to go relatively fast from here. They may find some evidence but I have the best lawyers. The best part about this is...we won't even need them. No one knows you were on the scene. I have an alibi. People will suspect me but I work in the fashion industry darlin', murder is a walk in the park for me.”
His breathing is easing. I wonder if I'm comforting him somehow.
“What if something goes wrong?”
I shake my head, “Nothing will go wrong. Look at me. I gave Alexander Bautista life. You know who he was before me? A rich nobody. Money doesn't mean anything. I gave him meaning. I gave him life. So it's OK if you took it away. It's ok because I say it's OK and I gave him life. And you know what---Asher Aquino?”
He pauses. He's hesitating. You'd think I was a viper by how he was staring at me but he doesn't move away. As afraid as he is he seems to be edging closer to me...closer and closer. He's staring at my lips as I talk. I wonder why.
“What?” he asks.
His breath smells like peppermint. His full lips are perfect. Kissable. So kissable. He is moving closer and closer. His eyes are afraid but his body is intrigued.
Now what kind of snake charmer isn't afraid of a viper?
“I gave Alexander Bautista life. I can do the same for you.”
“Why? Why would you do that for me?” he asks me with a suspicious look in his eyes.
I shrug, “This murder has glued us together for right now. It's best if we stick together. It's best if we are there for one another. So will you let me? Will you let me give you life---Asher?”
He nods. He seems so hesitant. He seems so unsure but he's gotten so close as well. He is so close that our lips are inches away from each other. He could kiss me right now and for a moment I think he is about to. For a moment I kind of want him to.
“Yes...”
I've never felt this kind of passion. I wonder if he feels the same. There is something about this strange model that is different from the other beautiful faces.
That's when he does it. He leans in. He leans in at that moment and he kisses me. His lips press up against mine. His lips are so soft. They are like pressing on soft pillows. I push against them. I taste them. They are so sweet. It's the best kiss I've ever had in my life. And for a moment I forget where I am. For a moment I forget WHO I am.
I let this model start to put his hand around my waist. He's staring to pull me in close---own me. And I'm smart enough to pull away just in time. I'm smart to pull away before he gets too close.
“You have a desk right outside of my office. It's right next to Neverland's. She'll be able to help you if you need anything.”
“That kiss was---”
It was everything. I'd never felt anything like that. It was a great experiences. I was too busy too have too many great experiences though. I know my heart is beating fast. I think his might be as well. Maybe that's why he's staring at me like is right now. It'd be easy to kiss him again. I'm too busy though...far too busy to be interrupted.
“I know. It was good. Thanks for that. I have some work to do.”
“That's it?” he asks.
“What else do you want? I have to write a speech for the company meeting still to announce Alexander's passing. I have a line to prepare for. I have to get ready to take on complete ownership of B&R with Alexander passing. Everything is about to be mine.”
I deserved it. This was my dream. This was what I worked for. As much as I enjoyed the kiss I didn't have the time to enjoy it too much. A second of two of passion was more than enough. Now it was back to work. I'm back at my desk. I'm writing up the letter. I have to find a way to show emotion but not too much emotion. This is a business not a motherfucking wake.
That is when I'm interrupted by none other than
“Yo...you felt that. You had to feel what I just felt,” Asher says.
I'm shocked that Asher is still in the room. He is staring me in my eyes. It looks like he wants something from me. I'm not sure what it is. He's. Still. Talking. About. The. Kiss.
“You're still here?” I ask him.
“Do you have any idea who would want to hurt your husband?”
I schedule 30 minutes to talk to the police investigators about my husband's death. It's all the time I'm willing to give this matter. The officer is an attractive gentleman. His name is Detective Brody. He isn't model attractive but more attractive for a 35, run of the mill guy who was OK on the eyes. He's tacky and it's distracting. His cheap tie, his worn out pant suit that is just way too baggy and his the fact that he hasn't shaved in a few days are distracting me.
“I don't know.”
“You don't know if your husband had enemies?”
“Enemies are only enemies if you acknowledge them,” I respond, “Some people say I have enemies. I think they are just fans who don't know it yet.”
“There were no signs of forced entry.”
“We keep our door open. We live in a very safe neighborhood,” I respond.
“The body was moved out of your home,” the police officer states, “And buried. If someone wanted to kill your husband they definitely seemed comfortable enough to take the time to bury your husband.”
My lawyer jumps in, “I'm sorry Detective but is that a question or an insinuation?”
Detective Brody stares at me for a long time, “Neither. I was just wondering. Were you aware, Mr. Rose that between 2005 and 2010, 60 percent of all violent injuries in this country were inflicted by loved ones or acquaintances. And 60 percent of the time those victimizations happened in the home.”
“Well then you have a huge job on your hands Detective Brody.”
“Why is that Mr. Rose?”
“As far as loved ones, my husband was a man whore. The list of his lovers is a mile long. And his acquaintances are even longer. You see we are Very Important People. And we're very popular. Either people want to be us or they want to kill us.”
“That's all the questions for now to my client,” my lawyer states.
“I'm sorry I have another engagement,” I explain, “Feel free to ask my lawyer any other questions and keep in contact if I can of any other assistance.”
“One last question sir.”
“Of course, Detective.”
“Is it true that you stand to inherit your husband's half of the company now that he's dead making you the sole owner of Bautista and Rose?”
I nod at that moment, “I guess...I'm blessed.”
I get out of there.
I do have somewhere else I have to be. I have to be there relatively fast.
As I walk out of the room I see Alessa. She's been standing outside of my office being held back by my main assistants, Neverland. Luckily Neverland had her own army of assistants who were able to hold Alessa back.
“You did this! YOU DID THIS!” Alessa is screaming at me, “I know you did this! YOU can fool them. You can't fool me.”
I expect no less.
“Alessa...you know with your brother gone I think you should take some time off to mourn,” I state, “Permantly.”
Alessa's eyes grow wide.
“Excuse me?”
“Ladies, please hand Alessa her letter of termination and escort her off of the premises.”
Watching 10 models trying to usher out a woman the size of several small island in the Caribbean had to be one of the most interesting things I've seen a while. I stand there enjoying the moment that Alessa Bautista is finally being fired. I'd waited years to see her clawing at the elevators doors and being exited out of the building.
It's such a sincere moment---almost brings tears to my eyes.
Only I don't cry.
Tears were for children and fools.
“You look like you're in a good mood,” a voice says.
I turn to see Asher. He's standing there with his eyes glued on me. I wonder if he watched the entire scene. I have to admit walking out of my office and seeing sexy ass Asher was something I could get used to. I never really hired any male models to work for me because Alexander ended up fucking them all. Not that Asher didn't fuck my dead husband but at least he was able to kill him in the process. I guess that counted for something.
“Better.”
“What are you up to?”
“Well I have to find a way to make sure Remus Bautista is working on my line and not spending all his time mourning his brother,” I explain, “Then I have to hire a new VP of Finance. I have fire half of the idiots my husband had working here. I literally have to revamp this entire company and...”
“How about dinner?”
I look over at Asher. I'm shocked and confused...
“Did you just hear what I said?”
Asher nods and shrugs, “Yeah and I pretty much don't give a fuck.”
“Listen I'm not one of these little boys that follow you around obsessed with the ground you walk on and changes their entire lives because you look the way you do,” I tell him.
Asher smiles. He has the prettiest natural teeth I've ever seen in my life.
“I know and that's why I'm asking you on a date.”
A date.
Why am I so nervous about it?
“Is that what you're doing?” I ask.
Asher looks at me. He licks his lips. There is something so sensual about the way he does it. The way he is glaring at me is almost like he is glaring into my soul. It scares me. It worries me. It bothered me. I am completely drowned into this moment.
“Yeah...I'm asking you on a date,” Asher stated.
And just when I thought I was defeated by nothing.
“I...” I start off.
Am I stumbling? Me? Diamonte Rose?
Asher catches it, “Am I making you nervous Mr. Rose? Not up for this challenge.”
“Don't be stupid. When Neverland comes back her clear my schedule. I'll do this...date...thing.”
I walk away and realize Asher is looking at my ass as I do.
I swallow my spit.
So strange.
I realize the idea of a date with Asher scares me much, much, much more than the idea of murder.
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