Title:
Threatened
Author:
Granitite Stone, granitite@yahoo.com
Summary:
What do you do when everything you believe about yourself is threatened?
Web
Address: www.angelfire.com/weird/cobalite/index3.html
Rating:
Hard R
Warning:
This story contains descriptions of suicide, and may be disturbing to some
readers. Viewer discretion is advised.
"He's
been out there a long time."
"I
know." Pete eyed his balcony. "He sober?"
"Far as I know." Harry set down his
bottle. "I'm just gonna make sure he isn't
passed out on the concrete."
"Go
for it."
He
opened the sliding doors and froze. When Harry finally spoke, it was barely a
whisper. "Pete. Get over here."
Pete
dragged himself out of his recliner and looked outside. "Fuck."
---
Flashback
"
"Go
the fuck away, Kim." He opened the medicine cabinet and took out a
prescription bottle. "It's my life."
"It's
*our* life. You cannot do this to me, you bastard! You aren't taking the easy
way out! Things aren't this bad, baby. Open the door."
"You'll
be fine without me." He drew a glass of water from the tap. "You
will. And then you can find someone that can actually take care of you."
"Fuck
that,
"Yeah, right." He swallowed a handful
of pills. "This is rock bottom, Kim. So, you take good care of my little girl
and I'll see you in hell."
"Don't
you fucking *dare* take those pills!" She shoved her nail file into the
cheap lock and twisted. It snapped open, and she found
"Not
a chance in hell." Kim yanked him to his feet and they stumbled towards
the bedroom. "Now sleep it off, and if you survive, you're going back to
that restaurant and getting your fucking job back."
"Go
to hell."
"We're
living it, baby. Things can't get any worse."
---
It's
a lesson he's learned since then. Things can always get worse. That's why right
now,
"No
fucking way!" Pete slid the door closed behind them. "No way you jump from my apartment."
"
"I'm
reenacting the video to 'The Way I Am.' Shit, you ain't
that stupid." He stared into the
"What
the hell brought this on? You fly home, come over, say you want a smoke, and
decide to kill yourself? At my apartment!"
"Something
like that." He was in fact smoking what he
believed to be his last cigarette.
"Go
call Dre. He flew back with
"You
can hire someone to do that. You got money now. And this ain't
something you can beat up for me, man. So, go back inside and leave me
alone."
Below,
a car screeched into said parking space. 'Dre.'
If anyone could talk
"No
chance in hell, Pete. And, if you think *Dre* is
going to be able to fix me, you are sadly mistaken." He flicked some ash
down onto the car. "Fuck this. I'm done. Let me finish it."
---
Flashback
He
took a sip and passed the bottle. "Seriously.
It's good."
"You're
lucky I'm buzzed, or you'd have no face right now."
"Every last word." He took the bottle,
rolled it between his fingers like a promise. "Interested,
"Maybe." He'd always been to curious for his own good.
"I
promise I won't tell anyone." He leaned forward, and tasted the alcohol on
---
"You
ain't doing this to me! I'm not watching another
friend die."
"I'm
not asking you to. Go back inside, Pete. Send Dre
away, and let me do this."
"Too late for that." The door opened.
"I have never been so happy to see you, man."
"Shit.
Slim, get the hell down from there. You
trying to send me to an early grave?" Dre
had thought Harry was exaggerating. "What the hell are you on?"
"I'm
not on anything! I want you all to leave me alone. I'm done. Game over."
He took a last drag off his cigarette. "Now go inside, and call whoever
you need to call."
"Yeah,
like I'm letting you jump." Dre grabbed the back
of
"Damn
it!" He tried to get up and Pete stepped on one of his hands.
"Lay
still, you fucking idiot." Pete was careful not to use his full weight and
crush
"It's
my life, damn it! Why the hell can't you people get that?"
"Shut
up, Slim." They hauled him to his feet and
dragged him inside.
---
"This
isn't about Kim, alright? For once, my dear ex-wife has nothing to do with
it."
"So...
you were planning on scarring Pete and Harry for life because your record is
selling so well, and the women in you life have finally stopped suing?"
They'd tied
"No."
"Then
what the *fuck* is this bad?"
---
Flashback
He
sucked on his finger, then pressed it inside.
"See what I mean?"
"No
one has ever done this to you before?"
"No."
"Dude. You need to get a better class of
girlfriend."
---
"You
wouldn't understand."
"Ain't nothing new in this game,
"You
can't tell no one, understand? Not Pete, not Harry, not Denaun,
Rondell or Swifty. They
don't need to here this shit."
"Whatever
you want, man."
---
Flashback
He
pressed a hand over
He
took his hand away and pushed deeper.
---
"Fuck."
"Exactly."
"No way. You aren't offing
yourself, not over this. You have a tour to do. It ain't
worth it."
"Fine,
I'll do the fucking tour! Will you untie me now?"
"Yeah, just a minute." He headed back into the
living room where the sane.... er.... saner portion
of D12 was waiting. "You're going on tour with him. We can't leave him
alone now. There's some stuff he's got to sort out, and we have to keep an eye
on him while he does."
"We'll
take care of him." Swifty flicked his lighter.
"He ain't having a bad trip, then?"
"No, nothing like that." As far as Dre could tell, the problem actually seemed to be good sex,
rather than the bad trip they'd all been expecting.
---
"I
don't need a suicide watch."
Harry
laughed. "Yeah, and I'm the queen of fucking
"I
told Dre I'd do the tour. Ya'all
can stop babysitting me. It's annoying, a'right?"
"I
sorta like this group the way it is. Burying
*another* friend ain't on my list of things to
do." Harry grabbed the remote. "Sides, man, you'll be stuck on a bus
with everyone soon."
"Fuck, that alone could drive a man nuts."
"You're
already crazy."
Harry
leaned closer, intent on eavesdropping, but he couldn't hear the other side of
the conversation.
"It
seemed like a good idea at the time, a'right? I
haven't had a minute of peace, thanks to my overprotective friends, so I don't
need this shit from you."
Who
was
"Yes,
I'm actually planning to show up at the VMAs this
year. No, I'm not telling you who it was. Begging ain't
gonna help. It doesn't suit you. Yeah, just remember
to stay the hell out of
Now...
the question was... who the hell had Dre called?
---
It
was about a week later that
"Yo." He set down his pen and picked up the phone. A
moment later, it clattered to the floor.
"You
okay, man?" The battery had snapped out and turned the phone off, so he
couldn't see the caller id number.
"Yeah." He slid the phone into
his pocket. "I'm cool. You got anything two player with a lot of
violence?"
"What
don't I have like that?"
After
that, it became impossible to get
---
Accessing
Voice Mail:
Message
One: //Slim, turn on your god damn phone! I'm sick of this shit. Deal, change
your number, do something, but this is fucking ridiculous.//
Message
Two: //Marshall, our daughter has been calling for six hours. Where the hell
are you?//
Message
Three: //You can't avoid me forever. Eventually, you'll have to talk to me. I
refuse to be ignored like this.//
Message
Three Deleted
Autodialing:
Hailie
---
"Someone
is fucking with him. That's the only answer." Denaun
threw his luggage down and collapsed into a bunk.
"Why
ain't he told us then?" Rondell
switched on the TV. "The whole not answering his phone thing is
stupid."
"And damn annoying. What the hell happened
to him in
"Ain't
sure."
Rondell pulled out his rolling papers. "They
keep calling, whoever they are. That's why he's screening his calls."
"The
man's no pussy. We made sure of that. So whoever's messing with him has gotta be one bad ass motha-fucka."
---
Flashback
"You alive?"
"M'sleeping. Go away."
"Illest rapper ever, reduced to a sleepy kitten. I am *very*
pleased with myself."
"Yup." He slid on a shirt.
"That about sums it up. Hope you had a good time,
---
She
rubbed his back. "Poor baby. You're all
tense."
"You
bet, baby. Keep doing that." Britney Murphy. An actress
with a taste for playing psychos, a woman with magic hands.
She
poured some oil on his shoulders and worked it in. "Be happy,
"So..."
Britney pressed her lips to his ear. "I answered your booty call. Now tell
me why the Kuniva is still camped out in the living
room."
"I'm
on suicide watch." God, this was embarrassing.
"What?"
She pulled away. "Why the *hell* are you on suicide watch?"
"You
ever done something that seemed like a good idea, but turned out to be the
stupidest thing you could possibly think up?" He leaned back and stared at
the ceiling.
"I'm
not sure. The movie hasn't debuted yet."
"I'll
never tell." Britney slapped him. "Seriously."
"Whatever
did happen, you seem okay now."
"Tell
Rondell that."
"Maybe
I will, because we're not fucking while he's here."
---
"You
got a letter." Pete dropped it on the coffee table. "Time
to move again, man. If one knows, they all will in a couple weeks."
"Fuck."
He set down the bottle of bleach and wrapped his head in a towel. "Read it
to me, man. Shit's burning my eyes."
He
tore open the letter.
No one gets to ignore me like this.
You think your crew is bad? I've been doing this a hell of a lot longer than
you, and my pals aren't all harmless kittens. I always get what I want, Marshall, but then, you already know that.
You answer my damned calls, or I'll
be forced to resort to more drastic measures. I know where you live, I know
where you work. Don't fuck with me, Marshall. It was your choice, now deal with
it, and answer your damn phone!
There
was no signature. "Well, what does the obsessed teeny want?”
“
“No,
and you can’t kill this for me, Pete. I gotta deal
with it on my own.” He was Eminem. He couldn’t be
afraid of some prissy pop singer forever.
“What’d
you do to this guy?”
“I
didn’t do anything!” It was what he’d allowed to be done to him that was the
problem.
-----
Accessing
Voice Mail:
Message
One: //Daddy? Momma says I can watch you on tv tonight. Go’luck. Bring
me a moon man!//
Message
Two: //Mr. Mathers? This is MTV. We’re just calling to
confirm your rehearsal slot. Please call us back.//
Message
Three: //I’ll be there, and so will you. You can’t
avoid me forever. You know… I can take no for an answer. Tell me to stop
calling, and I will. But I can not stand being ignored.//
-----
“How’d
you meet him?”
“I
was in
“Why?”
“After what she did to him? Fuck, at least Kim
never roughed me up.”
“How’d
the two of you end up in bed?”
“They
kicked us out at
“You’ve
never done that?”
“I
never fucked guys when I did!”
“Until now.”
“Maybe
I was curious, or something, okay? He said he’d show me.”
“So…
he let you-“
“No.”
“No?
Ah. That’s why you went off the deep end.”
“Yes, you bastard. Are you happy now? All
that time I spend with you must be corrupting my brain, because I let a pop
idol fuck me.”
“It’s
not the end of the world,
“Says you. You can’t understand what this is like for
me, to have everything you think about yourself turned on it’s
head.”
“I’ll
have you know I had my sexual identity crisis a few decades back. Here.” He
slid a glasses case across the table. “These are for you.”
“I
don’t need anymore sunglasses. You have warped taste.”
“Open
it.”
Fuck.
The rose tinted star glasses. “Yo. No way am I
wearing these.”
“Just
hang on to them.” Elton stood. “You better get ready.”
“Yeah, whatever. Thanks, I think.”
“I
know, I know.” Elton closed the door behind him.
He
considered the glasses again, then shoved them into
his pocket. It was time to face reality.
-----
“How
the fuck did he get past you?” Dre
scanned the crowds.
“I
was talking to this real fine lady, a’right?” Pete
was barely keeping up. “He isn’t going to off himself at the VMA’s.”
“Like
he wouldn’t jump off your balcony? We gotta find
him.”
“Man,
you have no faith in me at all, do you?”
Dre turned around and saw
“Was talking to Elton.” He flashed the
sunglasses. “It’s cool. I’m good now. Call off the dogs.”
“You sure?” Dre hadn’t
been able to fix
“Yeah,
I’m sure.”
“You’re
just letting him go? What could Elton John do that we can’t?”
“That
ain’t none of our business.”
“Now what the fuck is that supposed to mean?”
-----
The
door to his dressing room opened. “You going to call
Security on me?”
“Naw. I’m in a good mood.”
“You
tried awful hard to avoid me.” He closed the door quietly. “Your
friends hiding in here, waiting to jump me?”
“It’s
safe.”
“I
wouldn’t be where I am if I did. Neither would you.”
“Aren’t
you supposed to be a dumb blond?”
“Maybe.” He grinned. “Congrats on the four wins,
but why am I here?”
“A room key.” He raised an eyebrow.
“I see.”
“I’m
not a fag.”
“Okay.”
“Don’t fucking patronize me.”
“Sorry
I scared you, or scarred you. Whatever. We going back to your place?” He ran the edge of his thumb
along the card. “Since we’ve already trashed our ex-girlfriends, I figured you
could give me some advice on this whole balancing a solo act and group thing.”
“Rule
number one. Do not ignore or alienate those who know where you sleep.” They
headed into the crowded hall. “Rule number two. Do not
overdo the guest artist thing. Makes it a bitch to do live
concerts.”
“Take
that, Justin.” He was grinning, not noticing the eyes on them.
“Is
that who I think it is?” Pete was sure he was hallucinating.
“Yeah,
man. That’s gotta be Nick Carter.”
“That’s
fucking sick.”
“I
know.” Harry lit a cigarette, ignoring the signs to the contrary. “I would have
gone for Timberlake, myself. At least he’s fem.”
“
End
For those of you not familiar with D12, here’s a cast list.
Bizarre as Peter S. Bizarre
Kon Artis as Mr. Denaun Porter
Kuniva as Rondell Been
Proof as Derty Harry
Swift as Swifty McVay