Breathe in, breathe out, calm yourself, remember, everything is perfect. You are perf... A sound at the door caused my eyes to snap open, breaking my meditation. The mantra I constantly repeated did not just help to calm myself. It aided me in getting in character and preparing my deception. I couldn't be my normal laid back self, I had to be a great white right now.
I needed the cold determination, the fearlessness that they had. Sharks had the ability to wander the oceans without a care in the world? You know why? It's because they knew they were the toughest mother fuckers in the ocean. This was my ocean and I was the biggest and worst one out here.
I embodied this feeling as I looked over at the man in the other chair. His body language screamed prey. Adrian Lance came to me two days ago begging for help. He was seething with anger as he paced back and forth on my doorstep. He used shaky hands to smooth down the front of his blood covered shirt. A shirt that no doubt cost more than most people pay for rent.
It was a friend of mine who happened to also be his lawyer asked me to do what I do. What I was commissioned to do was provide an alibi for unfortunate souls like Adrian. I would have been awestruck by his fame had he not come to me under duress. By the end of those two, days, I knew that we would have to act quickly if we didn't want the police to show up before I could get everything set up. Thankfully his fame helped prolong it a bit.
My eyes glanced up as his annoying manager buzzed around us on his phone talking to the press. Finally, I had to tell him to shut up or get out. I didn't need some thick headed manager saying something that would screw things up. It would make my job that much harder.
Where most people fail at is thinking people are tried in the court system when it's really the media and society that condemns them. That decides their fate. With the type of fame that the people I worked for have, it doesn't matter how guilty you are. All that matter is how guilty you look. The first step to take in a case like Adrian's is to discredit the person pressing the charges against you.
In this case, Adrian's lover was about to go on air with a tell all about the beating he took at Adrian's hand. He also had the audacity to out him on tv. So I had Adrian do it first. I told his manager to book an appearance on a national news program to tell everyone that he was gay. With that one move, he would gain the support of the gay community. I then stressed the importance of discussing only that and his upcoming fight.
The second step was where my job could get difficult. Finding at least two or three others, myself included that could confirm you were where I said you were was the hardest part. Paying off the locals was always a nice touch. It doesn't matter how rich or poor those around you are. You wave a few thousand dollars in their face, and they all bite. That just left the police to deal with. They come to you with something to prove. Women detectives were the worst ones. They would use every intimidation technique in the book to force you to confessed.
As long as you stayed cool, and remembered your lines this was the easiest, and in my personal opinion, the best part of all. Taunting the police wasn't something anyone could do and get away with. It was the best ecstasy one could experience, better than an orgasm after years of not getting off. I was the best at what I did and. I've yet to meet anyone who could pull off a lie like me. How did I become the best? I worked from nothing to get where I am today. Blood, sweat, and a few nights in jail made me the man I am. I couldn't ask to be anything better. Not that I would ever ask.
I could see panic flitting about in his light gray eyes. Eyes that darted from the door to me, and back again. I stood up walking over to the door, and taking a peek outside. I could see two men standing on the other side of it. I knew the two that were at the door, in my line of work this wasn't the first time that I had run into Detective Kennedy Peterson, the old guy, and Mark Landon.
The first, was a middle-age man in his mid to late forties; his graying brown hair was short, and brushed into a comb over. Hard brown eyes were looking up and down the hall as if he thought a quick getaway was coming. I doubt he would be any use if one were on its way.
His stomach was pushing at the buttons of his tight shirt as it begged for freedom. The cheap suit he wore showed its age in every string that was sticking out of place. I was sure if he breathed out the button on his pants was going to take an eye out. I can remember a time when I was younger, when I was new to the tank. I was in such a rush to swim with the big fish. Kennedy had cornered me.
I don't even remember what nonsense he tried to book me on. I ran, and he gave chase. He gave chase for three blocks. The big man moved quicker than anyone would have thought. It wasn't until I climbed a gate that I could get away. He tried as I watched in amusement, toss his fatass over. Again and again he fell. Again and again I laughed. It wasn't until he threatened to shoot me that I ran. I chuckled at my own memory of the detective, good times.
Next to him was a younger man, late twenties, short blond hair that was spiky on the top. Soft green eyes that shone with the eagerness to prove himself to those around him. He was tall if I had to guess somewhere between 6'2" and 6'4," his muscular build accented by his suit. I always say that you can tell a lot about someone by the clothes they wore. The suit this man wore spoke about his character. It was new, slightly out of the detective's price range, tailored to fit him. It showed that he wasn't just going to be some beat cop all his life. He was in this to move up the ranks. His suit was to show his boss how ready he was to take the next step in his career.
My first run in with Mark was of a personal nature. I was still living at home with the folks saving my money to blow this popsicle stand. The banging on our door that night could have waked the dead. Answering the door, I was faced with the angriest cop I had ever seen. Not even giving me time to respond he wanted to know if I was Sebastian Monroe.
Before my lips could form a response, his hand came forward and connected with my jaw. It was after my father pulled us apart, after more pigs showed up that I understood why I was the target of Mark Landon's rage. It wasn't really my fault; he should have taught his girlfriend how to close her legs. I smiled at the annoyed expressions on their faces as the younger cop of the two banged his fist against the door again.
Walking back towards my client my eyes slid over him. His whole look was wrong for what we were going for. Adrian didn't look like a guy that was just rolling around in the sheets he was to put together for that. My eyes fell to his knuckles that were bruised from bashing in the face of his lover. I knew that Mark would take notice of his hands.
Adrian was a boxer though; bruised knuckles were easy to explain away. I ran my fingers through his black hair ruffling it so it didn't lay perfectly on his head. I yanked at his pajama pants so that his pelvis would show, tapping my chin I stepped away from him. I could tell that he was jittery as another pounding knock came.
"Wait a damn minute," Adrian yelled, and looked at me again. I frowned at his snappy comment. It wasn't best to piss these two off. I knew how annoying they could be when they decided you were good for a crime. I could see the worry in Adrian's eyes, could feel the tension in the air he was making. I closed my eyes blocking out his nerves. This wasn't my first rodeo.
"Remember what we went over Adrian." I said, and he nodded, his breathing resembling a woman going into labor. "Deep slow breaths; if you don't want to answer a question you can refuse. If you don't know how to word it take a moment get your thoughts in order." I could see the blank stare on his face as if he was some dumb blond.
I frowned at him reaching out slapping him across the face. He rubbed his cheek about to protest, but I pointed a warning finger at him. "I get paid if you mess up or not," I reminded him. The thought of not getting his money's worth made him straighten up. "Remember," I hissed again going towards the bathroom.
I could hear the door opened, and muttered voices outside. I could hear a light voice that I was sure was Mark's, the husky one had to belong to Kennedy. I couldn't makeout the words they were saying, but I knew how it all worked. Tossing my shirt and pants to the floor, I stepped into the already running shower.
I stepped inside of it wetting my body quickly, using my hands to make sure the water wet as much of my body before turning it off. I grabbed two towels wrapping one of them around my waist as I dried my sandy brown hair with the other. Stepping out of the bathroom, I could hear what was being said.
"I'm telling you I was home that whole night. My lov..." Adrian had stumbled before he said the word, "lover was with me." I wanted to kick him for being an idiot. It was a simple thing to do, why would he trip over the word lover? I was going to have a hard enough time selling this. Sometimes I wanted to take my clients, and punch them in the face. Then again Adrian Lance was famous for his temper.
It was why he needed me in the first place. Last Tuesday he allowed his temper to flare with his true lover. A heated argument that turned into a vicious beating. The world lightweight champion Adrian's fists were lethal weapons. That is if they could prove he did anything. A jealous lover's word over a proven alibi would never hold.
"What happened to your hand Mr. Lance?" Mark asked the question I had been dreading. I gave Adrian the right answer, but he was such an idiot; I didn't know what he was going to say. I watched from a distance as Adrian glanced down at his hand and rubbed his knuckles.
"Practice can be a bitch sometimes," Adrian laughed it off. Splendid, I thought, he might not be such a lost cause after all. That didn't mean I wanted to punch him any less. Calming myself by releasing the frustration I felt towards Adrian, I walked out in the room to see the two detectives standing in the entryway of Adrian's home.
I walked over to the three men tossing an arm around Adrian's shoulder. I gave him a light peck on the cheek as my hazel eyes fell to Mark. I mocked him with my glare, dared him to challenge me, to call me out, to catch me in my lies. Mark hated me; I knew that. I wasn't a fan of him myself. He hated me, but he couldn't beat me.
"Hello detectives," my voice was smooth, calm, cunning some even say. I gave the detectives a half grin Adrian stood awkwardly beside me.
"Sebastian Monroe," Detective Mark Landon hissed out my name as if it was a dirty word. His eyes narrowed as he glared at me. "You want me to believe that you are his lover." Mark snorted as if the thought of it was laughable, as if it was outlandish, and I was just wasting time.
"You know me Mark, I get it in where I can stick it in." I gave him a wink as I pinched Adrian's butt. His face turned a shade of red from my playfulness. I could read the disgust on Adrian's face. I couldn't tell if he was disgusted at the idea of gay people or if it was just me that turned his stomach. I was pretty sure that I was the reason for Mark told me many times during our relationship how I disgusted him, how I was a worm; a bottom feeder I think was the words he used.
"So Mason where were you last Tuesday between the hours of nine and ten that night?" Mark asked a sly grin on his face as he waited for my answer. I tapped my chin as if I needed to call that date to my mind. I liked this game that Mark, and I played; I was good at it, better than him. Although he would die before he admitted that fact. My eyes slide over to Kennedy, who stood there looking at the interaction between the three of us.
I glanced at Adrian again trying to read his face. I needed to make sure that he wasn't giving the detectives any tell-tale signs that he was lying or nervous.
One false move could ruin this for the both of us. Well, more for him than me, it was however my name on the line if this didn't go through. My name was all I had in my line of work. If he couldn't sell it as much as I did then, it was wasted. Not that I cared or not, like I said, I got paid either way.
"Oh, last Tuesday," I mused over my words laughing a bit. "I was here with bunnykins." I laughed at myself for the nickname. "We were, you know, getting it in." I teased. "He just keeps going and going if you know what I mean. You can ask the neighbors if you don't believe me. We were really loud." I half covered my mouth as if Lex wouldn't hear me. "Lexy is a screamer."
I didn't whisper making Lex blush red again. Mark wrote something down in his notepad, and my eyes shifted to Kennedy.
"We were in the middle of something boys." I made sure the annoyance was heard in my tone as I spoke the words. I narrowed my eyes as I looked from Mark to Kennedy then back again. "If you're done we would like to get back to the bedroom."
"We will be back," Mark promised.
"In just enough time to speak to our lawyer I'm sure." I said, and Adrian pointed to the door. Kennedy started for it, but Mark paused for a moment before he followed behind him. I watched for a few minutes more making sure to give them time to leave before I went back in the bathroom, and redressed.
"That's it," Adrian asked as I came out of the bathroom dressed again. I ran fingers through my brown hair and nodded.
"Easy as that; from here on out don't talk to them without your lawyer." I warned him, and he nodded his head. "My money," I said holding out my hand, and he walked over to his desk pulling out a checkbook. "You're joking, right? How stupid are you? This is a cash only business." I asked when he looked at me with that blank stare in his eyes again. I really hated that look, it annoyed the hell out of me.
"I have a hundred thousand in my safe I have to get the rest later." Adrian said walking over to a safe behind his desk. He pulled out a few stacks of bills. I ran my finger over it looking at him. Adrian wasn't going to cross me, now that he knew the business I was in I was sure I would be seeing him again. You don't burn bridges you aren't done using yet. Shoving the money in my bag, I eyed him again.
"Have four hundred thousand in cash by the end of the week Adrian. If not I think I will have to go to the cops, and tell them that I suddenly remember that last Tuesday I was out of town with family."
"No need to be rash," Adrian said putting up his hands defensively. "I will have your money; you know I'm good for it."
"Don't be good for it Adrian; have it." I said grabbing my keys off his table leaving his house. Parked out front in Adrian's driveway was my Lamborghini Gallardo. It was sleek, sexy with red paint, and black leather seats. Getting inside, I put it in drive before speeding out far away from Adrian, and his problems.