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In Love With The Proper Stranger - Chapter 11
The blue vein in Greg's right bicep popped up through his skin as the muscle strained against the 80kg weight he was lifting on his third set of bench presses.
That new brand of anabolic steroid Marty picked up for him worked like a treat. He felt like superman and looked the part too!
He knew by the way the guys and girls in the gym turned their heads to check him out as he walk past. Hell, he liked to watch himself walk past in the mirrors.
He was a stud. No question! He'd f*ck himself if he could. He grinned at the thought!
The hand weight loudly clanked as he heaved it back into place, pleased at how he no longer needed a spotter for the 80kgs. Pretty soon he'd be bench pressing 100 alone, too.
He used a towel to wipe the dripping sweat from his brow and his shoulders. A side effect of the drugs, the excessive sweating, was a small price to pay for perfection.
As he got up to move onto the next set of equipment, a man backed into him. Like some red dragon, Greg immediately reeled quickly on the guy; flattening him to the floor and raising his fist up in the air stopping short of breaking the guy's jaw.
"Please! Please!" the man squeaked, holding his arm over his eyes in fright.
"SH*T!" Greg looked around and sighed with relief that this corner area was empty. The last thing he needed was to get banned from another gym! This one was already miles out of his way.
The weedy guy beneath him looked like Bambi caught in headlights. Greg almost chuckled as he lifted off of him and pulled him up.
"Watch where you walk next time. Mac! And you keep this to yourself, you hear!"
The relieved man nodded and scurried off as fast as his legs could take him.
Greg hissed through his teeth and took his position on the rowing machine.
Sudden and unreasonable outbursts of anger along with physical attacks on other people were just two more side effects of the drugs.
"It feels so good to punch someone!"
Greg was going to end up in prison if he wasn't careful.
But the adrenaline had to be released somehow. He was wound up so tight sometimes; woe to the person who got in his way when he hadn't had his full workout.
In fact, he was tripping so high today he thought he might have to jog home.
Home now included Reid. The man moved back into his mother's house shortly after his husband kicked him out.
That was unfortunate.
But what was even more unfortunate was that little sh*t, who had somehow maneuvered the chess pieces to fall in his favor.
Imagine getting the old lady to change her will at the last minute like that! Sly! Who knew the wimp even had it in him!
Now there was no way of knowing how much longer the twerp would allow them to stay in the house… the house that Noah now owned!
Greg wanted to pummel him! Actually, he wanted to f*ck him first… then pummel him!
But, it was vital he didn't lose it around Reid.
After all, Reid was his meal ticket.
Reid who now had nothing. Great! What had he just spent seven years slaving away in that crummy theatre for then?
To end up with nothing? F*ck that!
The old lady finally croaks, clearing the way… and now this?
He knew Reid had given up the idea of contesting the will to concentrate on reconciling with Snyder.
Even though a reconciliation had a snowball's chance in hell; it could take weeks, months even, Greg figured.
He didn't have that kind of time! He had more than one loan-shark snapping at his heels, demanding instant payment of his gambling debts.
It was only a matter of time before one of these ruthless men had him ambushed; breaking his legs, cutting out his tongue or worse…
No, the quickest and easiest solution to his problem was to get rid of the kid. With Noah gone, the estate would automatically revert back to Reid.
Then Reid would set them up in a new house and they could continue to f*ck like rabbits. Yeah! He loved to **** that tight little ass!
He completed his reps on the rowing machine and checked his watch.
If he wanted to run home he'd have to leave the gym now. He told Reid he'd be back by 8 p.m. with food. He'd have to stop and grab a takeaway on the way down.
Reid hated to be kept waiting, especially where food was concerned.
And Greg had pressing business to attend to first.
He showered, walking naked around the change rooms, making maximum effort to show off his physic to the jealous and (for some) horny guys in there. It was his favorite part of a workout.
He threw on a tight little number that he knew showed off his defined muscles, slung his duffle over his shoulder and made for the exit.
A couple of blocks from the gym stood a real dive bar called the Blackbird Saloon. He'd walked past it a few times before but never had any reason to enter. It had definitely seen more aesthetic days and Greg couldn't think of a better name for it.
Blackbird conjured up images of darkness and graves, cloaked figures and death. Yip, walking into the place definitely gave you the creepy sensation you might not walk back out again!
It was the perfect place to conduct this type of deal, already filled to the brim as it was with unspeakable secrets and schemes. Should they be overheard, which in itself was highly unlikely, there wasn't a patron in the place who would remember what they said or even remember having seen them together at all!
It was a place of criminal anonymity.
Greg stopped for a moment at the door. There was still time to back out, he told himself, but then shook the thought off and crossed over the threshold.
The darkened interior stank of smoke, unwashed bodies and stale beer. He couldn't wait to make the deal and get the hell out of there.
He sat in the corner booth, right under a large green chrome spotlight. He'd been directed by phone to take that particular booth.
He ordered a beer from the quirky looking barmaid and waited, checking his watch for fear he ran overtime and failed to get home before Reid. Greg didn't want him getting cranky. There was nothing worse than a cranky or rather crankier Reid.
A quick scan of the darkness revealed only two other patrons, both of whom looked like they'd been there for a very long time.
The creepy man he was meeting sat opposite him so quickly it was as though he appeared out of thin air, like the cat in Alice in Wonderland. He had a similar wide sharp-toothed grin too. He rubbed at his whitening stubble, eying Greg critically.
For a long moment, he simply glared at Greg with that sinister smile, making him nervous. It was few people who could make Greg nervous.
The man was pale, with white hair to match, almost ghost like.
"Heard you have an itch you can't scratch and needs somebody to take care of it for ya!"
"Well you pay me the right price and I eliminate your problem. That simple, man."
"Five grand now and another five on completion." He chewed heavily on a wad of tobacco, puffing out his cheek.
Greg hadn't told Reid. But the previous weekend he'd won 12 grand for finishing second in an iron man competition. He should have come first but the winner cheated… Go figure!
Anyway, this sum was far from enough to pay off the sharks. But Greg figured he could more than triple it by investing it in this little venture.
Risky yes, but with great reward. And Greg was nothing if not a gambling man.
"I'll get you the money. What else do you need from me?"
"Name, photo, times and the places he hangs out. It's a he, ain't it?"
Greg nodded. "I'll put something together for you."
"Now listen up! This is the last time I'm gonna mention this. Once you go down this road, there ain't no coming back! I get caught, you get caught! You get caught and you don't know me! That's how it works, you dig?"
Greg felt a small droplet of sweat fall from his brow. Perspiration soaked his armpits and his back. But he nodded all the same.
"Okay then! Great doing business with ya! I'll be in touch to pick up the info and payment. Just one more question. When do you want this done by?"
"As soon as you're paid," Greg ordered. "The sooner the better."
The spine-chilling man nodded and left the booth, whistling oddly to himself. Greg released a breath he didn't know he was holding.
It was a shame to waste a hot-looking kid like Noah. Greg wondered then whether he could arrange to have a taste of him first.
God but he wanted a real go at that kid!
But it would be too risky. He couldn't afford to be linked to the killing… no way no how! He was planning a life of luxury with Reid, not to rot in some damn cold jail cell!
Thanks so much for reading...
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, Sep 12 2011, 2:44 PM EDT
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