Sad Tale by Gareth Storey
some rope and leave her in my bathtub until her dad David came and collected the freak. David understood my behaviour; he said he knew how much the hat meant to me. My friend James (who works at UCLA) says I’m lucky my head didn’t get punched in. But my self-control is a pathetic. Louise is by far the most hermosa and richest girl to be with me and if I’d have stayed on her good side maybe we would’ve got married. And David would’ve paid for it all. If you could see her you’d hit me for fucking my chance up – her ass is something out of an American Apparel ad, her skin is blemish free and smooth, and she smells of almond milk. Louise’s dad David is loaded; in fact, most of my girlfriend’s families have been full of money ’cause I meet them at the high school. Being a janitor isn’t too bad when rich girls find you attractive. Some have said I look like Richard Gere, but the fact that I’m five years older than most of them makes me cooler than the boys in their classes who still like being dicks, getting stoned and playing computer games. Plus my ride is a 1974 Buick Apollo, which my dad left to me when he died. If only these girls knew that on my days off I get dressed in my best clothes (second-hand Prada shoes, 54
tonal stripe denim pants by Marc and a white Versace shirt) and walk around Century City and Rodeo Drive looking at the price tags on the Cassidy Print shirts, lambs’ wool sweaters and ‘Cotton Club’ jackets. It tears me up. Whenever someone from a store asks ‘Is there anything I can help you with?’ I say no. Sometimes I’ll buy a pair of boxer shorts or socks just to make it look like I can afford to buy stuff. Those rich fucks that drift around from West LA and Bel Air that can walk into a shop and blow $2,000 on a coat drive me mad with envy, they must love life. If only I was rich. When Louise was having her once a week girly night with her slutty friends me and her dad would watch films. But before we move on, do you know about these parties they have? They all get drunk in their sexy underwear and talk about men and sex. They tell each other cock sizes, you know, that’s a little disturbing. My friends and colleagues don’t know anything about her pussy (tight) or the way she sucks dick (awesome). That info stays in my mind; some girls are just shy of manners. She can talk it up, but its awkward meeting her friends when they all know my stick has been in her ass. These fucking parties they have, why do they have to eat and drink so much? Why do
they come home feeling ill? They have no self-control. Have you seen a room full of girls, cheesecakes, chocolate brownies, vodka and bottles of champagne? It’s crazy. So while Louise was stuffing herself stupid with stuff she’d regret and drinking enough to kill a mountain goat, David and me would drink beers, smoke Cuban cigars and watch DVDs in the mini cinema he had built in the back garden. We’d arrange a schedule by flipping coins to find out who got to pick the first film. Between one or two in the morning we’d get a call from her asking to be picked up and one of us (me) would go and bring her back, then she’d pass out and I’d either sleep on the couch or watch movies all night. Her dad didn’t like it when we slept in her room.