InuYasha Fan Fiction ❯ Purity 9: Subterfuge ❯ Alone ( Chapter 51 )

[ X - Adult: No readers under 18. Contains Graphic Adult Themes/Extreme violence. ]
~~Chapter Fifty-One~~

-OoOoOoOo OoOoOoOoOoO-

'Well, if it rains, I don't care
'Don't make no difference to me
'Just take that street car that's goin' up town
'Yeah, I'd like to hear some funky Dixieland
'And dance a honky tonk
'And I'll be buyin' ev'rybody drinks all 'round …'

-'Black Water' by The Doobie Brothers.


"So we were thinking 'media blitz' followed by a live at midnight show in Madison Square Garden that'll coincide with the official release of the new album.  Wicked Soundsations has assured us that they'll release the first single in time to allow for the boost in sales, and we've already lined up a tentative schedule that'll take you through November, when the mini-tour kicks off.  We're talking a full-blown media push here!"

Tapping an index finger against his temple as he slouched a little lower in the rigid wooden chair, Evan stared at Mercy Payne and his assistant as he paced the length of the room and back.  A veritable bundle of energy and constant motion, his genuine excitement was one of the reasons that Evan didn't mind working with the PR rep.  Another reason was his hair, or more to the point, the bright, toxic green afro that Mercy wore with pride.  Today it clashed horribly with the bright orange silk suit he wore.  Still, it took a helluva lot of balls to wear something that audacious, and if Evan admired nothing else, he did admit to a deep admiration of an astute display of ball-age.

"Not Madison Square Garden," Evan drawled without sitting up.  "Too impersonal for a release show."

Mercy rubbed his hands together and shot Evan a broad grin.  "What'd you have in mind, Zel?"

"How about the nineteenth precinct YMCA?  It's big, and there's already some built-in security."

Mercy considered that and nodded slowly.  "I could check with 'em, but, man, the acoustics suck in that place."

"Suck or not, I like the idea," he insisted.  "Besides, it's about the kids, right?  The fans?"

Mercy chuckled.  "That'll work.  Laqueesha, go make a few calls, yeah-yeah?  That's a good girl . . ."

Evan watched as Mercy's assistant sashayed out of the room, pausing long enough to cast Mercy a very provocative smile.  Assistant?  'Fuck . . . He's screwing her; damned if he ain't.'

"She's a good girl, a good girl," Mercy insisted.  "I'm surprised you didn't suggest the Bunny Hole."

Evan shrugged and slumped a little lower.  "It's for the kids, and those kids are too young to get into the Bunny Hole."

"If that's what you want," Mercy went on amiably.  "Now, I got a meeting later with Ramón—the tight-assed little bastard.  I'll see what kind of budget we're looking at here for promos and giveaways.  Ever think of endorsing a white t-shirt?"

Evan cocked an eyebrow and stared at Mercy.  "White?"

The PR rep grinned.  "White t-shirts are good for things like, say, wet t-shirt contests . . . Maybe I could cut a deal for you with Shore-Worn . . . Now those t-shirts would look fine on a wet pair of . . ." He held up his hands in front of his chest in an exaggerated display of breasts.  ". . . ba-zoom-bas."

Okay, so he had to agree that Mercy had a point there.  Shore-Worn was notorious for selling thread-bare t-shirts for designer prices, and considering that a girl daring enough to go au naturale's nipple-age could be seen easily enough through a dry white Shore-Worn tee, then it stood to reason that even more of said-nipples would be very, very visible through a wet one, kind of like wet tissue paper . . . and a moment later, he had to wonder what the odds were that he could talk Valerie into pulling one of those shirts over her ample cha-chas . . .

"Well, maybe for that," Evan drawled with a rather wolfish sort of grin.

Laqueesha sauntered into the room again with a pot of coffee in her hand.  Leaning over—way over—she filled Evan's empty mug, offering him a very clear view of her goodies.  'Damn, that woman's got some tits there . . . Eh . . . seven, tops . . .'

'A seven?  You gave her a seven?  On who's bone-ometer?  Amateur!' his youkai snorted indelicately.  'All jiggle and no jive, Roka.  Laqueesha's mams are gonna be hanging around her knees by the time she's forty.  Now, V . . . that woman's tits are absolutely perfect: no sag, no drag, and absolutely no lag . . .'

He heaved a mental sigh.  'Yeah . . . Yeah, they are . . .'

"The YMCA said that they might be able to handle it.  They want a proposal and reassurances that there'll be adequate security," Laqueesha said.

"You can handle that, can't you, Queesh?  Give a holler at Bone to crunch on that," Mercy instructed.

Evan almost grinned as the woman walked out of the room again.  "You think that's a good idea?" he couldn't help asking.  "You know that the ol' Bone loves him some generous boobies."

Mercy chuckled.  "Ain't like that; ain't like that . . . Queesh knows where she hangs her hat, so to speak, but if she wants to take Bone for a ride, I surely won't stop her."

Evan chuckled, too, and pushed himself out of the chair.  "Then I guess it's all good," he remarked.  "Send the details to Mike, will you?"

Mercy nodded and stepped forward to shake Evan's hand.  "Sho-thang, my man . . . Oh, and . . . I was really sorry to hear about Dieter.  He was a good saw."

Evan jerked his head once in agreement, gritting his teeth as the precarious edges of his contrived calm started to fracture.  "Yeah," he agreed.  "I'll catch you later."

He stepped out of the office and paused long enough to wave and muttered something unintelligible to Laqueesha in passing as he headed for the elevator with a marked scowl on his face.

It felt all wrong, didn't it?  Sure, life went on, and he understood that.  The thing was, how soon should that really be?  Playing a gig anywhere just wouldn't be the same, would it?  Still, Dieter would be ticked beyond belief if Evan let everything come to a screeching halt, too, and damned if Evan didn't know that, but the truth was, the idea of venturing out on the road without Dieter?

Blinking when the elevator opened, Evan slowly stepped inside and hunkered down, elbows resting on his knees, his hands dangling in the space between.  "Bone?"

The security guard blinked and opened his eyes where he lay prone on the floor.  "Oh, hey, Roka," he greeted.

"Something wrong?"

Bone sat up and grinned.  "Nah . . . damned thing got stuck for awhile, so I was catching some z-s till it got moving again."  He stifled a yawn with the back of his hand.  "Guess it got movin' again."

Evan straightened up as the doors slid closed, and with a heavy sigh, he slumped against the opposite wall and slowly shook his head.  "Fuck . . . You know, I think I feel like I'm about a thousand years old . . ."

"Tell me about it," Bone agreed with a shrug.  "Sat up with Bugs last night, right?  Cryin' in his wine about Deet and Miss and Danny . . ."

"How's he doing?  Bugs, I mean."

The elevator groaned and lurched to a halt—it was obviously still having some kind of trouble.  Evan blinked as Bone dug a cigarette out of his pocket and lit it up.  "'Bout as well as anyone else.  Don't think I've ever seen Bitches cry before, either . . ."

No, come to think of it, Evan couldn't remember having seen it before, himself, even after her long-time girlfriend had broken up with her a couple years ago.  At the memorial, she'd stood there, staring at an image of the artist, bassist, and friend, likely remembering all the times they'd all hung out, all the insane things they'd done together, and she'd cried.  She'd cried . . .

"It just doesn't seem real," Evan admitted quietly.  "Just not . . . real . . ."

Bone nodded, his gaze unfocused, unseeing, the smile that he normally wore conspicuously missing.  "Keep thinking," he said quietly, his rich, deep voice taking on a rougher edge, "I should've been in front of you . . . you and Deet.  Some fucking bodyguard, right?  Some fucking shit . . ."

Evan smiled wanly: an expression devoid of any real humor.  "And I keep thinking, if he just hadn't shoved me . . . Hell, he'd have been hit, maybe.  Maybe he wouldn't be dead."

Sinking down to the floor, Bone chuckled dryly and dug a large flask out of his inner jacket pocket.  Some people wore leather, even in the heat of summer, to look cool.  Bone did it to tote his brew.  Twisting off the sterling silver cap, he held it out to Evan, who took the flask and tossed back a couple deep swallows before wiping his lips with the back of his hand and returning the silver container again.  "Eh, it's all over but the crying, ya?  Don't do any good to look back when the road ahead twists around enough."

Evan shook his head and stretched out beside him.   "What a load of shit," he scoffed then sighed.  "I feel like I'm losing my fucking mind," he admitted at length.

Bone tipped the flask to his lips before he replied.  "Don't sweat the small stuff, little man—or the big stuff, either."

"Is that right?" Evan challenged mildly, taking the brew—Bone's special mix—and drinking deeply.  "And you know that?"

"Taught myself," he said, knocking the heel of his boot against the unyielding doors.  "Piece of shit elevator . . . Damn, I hate elevators . . ."

Evan chuckled softly, a comfortable lethargy setting in from the warmth of the liquor.  "Remember the first time we talked Deet into taking one of these?"

Bone snorted loudly and took back the flask.  "Fuck . . . Puked all over me while you laughed about it."

"Yeah, but it wasn't because of the motion," Evan went on with a shake of his head.  "Deet fucking hated confined places."

"Said it felt like a damn coffin," Bone added.  "As if he'd know what one of those was like . . ."

Tapping the foot he had propped up, Evan waved his hand around for the flask again.  Bone stuck it in his hand, and he took a drink before he spoke.  "You suppose Miss'll be okay?"

"I dunno, man," Bone muttered.  "Wish to hell I did, and Daniel?  Growing up without parents?  That'd be rough . . ."

Evan was inclined to agree.  He'd be the first to admit that he wasn't exactly close to his father, but he also knew well enough that having been orphaned when he was just a pup had greatly impacted Cain Zelig's life.  It didn't matter that he'd grown up in such a different era.  Evan figured that it would have still been a bitter pill to swallow, no matter what was going on in the world, and as for his mother?  Thinking about the years of laughter and tender smiles that he'd gotten from her . . . What would he be now if it weren't for her, for her nurturing, for her unquestioned and unshakable devotion . . .?  "I'll make sure that he's taken care of," he said, resolve hardening the edges of his voice just a little.  "He won't be left alone."

"Yeah, well, if it came to that, he'd always have a place with Unca-Bone, too."

Evan chuckled and slowly shook his head.  "Ma-a-an . . . How pissed would Deet be if he heard us now?  Bitching and whining like women or some shit . . ."

Bone stretched out his arms, yawning wide as he arched his back then slumped against the wall once more.  Weaving his fingers together behind his neck, he closed his eyes and drew a long drag off the diminished smoke he held between his thick lips.  "If I never see something like that again, it'll be too soon," he said.

Grimacing as the fleeting image—a quick flash of memory that was entirely too vivid in his mind—sparked to life in his head, Evan slugged back another swig.  "Life was a hell of a lot easier when we were pups," he remarked.

"Eh . . . the longer I live, the more I think that it's all nothing more than a game of craps."


Bone grinned, tossing the cigarette butt toward the closed doors and mashing it out with his boot.  "Hell, yeah."

"What time is it?"

Glancing at his watch before resuming the position, Bone made a face.  "Nearly two . . . Mike's gonna blow an ass gasket."

"What's new?" Evan scoffed.  Turning his gaze upward, he bit his lip and narrowed his eyes.  "We could climb out . . ."

Bone's stare followed the direction of Evan's, and he pondered the idea for a moment before discarding it.  "Through that little hole?  That'd be like trying to fuck a virgin."

Evan laughed and shook his head.  "What, you mean hella tight?"

Bone shrugged and reached into the other side of his jacket to pull out another large silver flask.  "Yeah . . . tight, uncomfortable, and guaranteed to leave someone in tears . . ."

"You're so fucking twisted," Evan insisted with a grin.

"Look who's talking, you damn nutsack."

"Yeah, yeah, suck my nutsack, Boner."

"Nah, nah, if it was gonna be that way, you'd mos' def' be my bitch.  This Bone bends over for no one."

"'Cept yo' mama," Evan shot back.

Bone's eyes flared wide.  "Don't you bring in my mama!" he warned.  "My mama could kick yo' mama ass—Well, maybe not.  Your mama's da-a-a-amn tough."

"Abso-fucking-lutely," Evan agreed.  "No one messes with my mama."

Bone chuckled and tipped the silver flask.  "Your mama could kick your ass."

Evan didn't disagree with that.  "Probably.  She could kick yours, too."

Bone's chuckle escalated into a rumble of laughter.  "I'd bend over for your mama—as long as your daddy ain't around."

"Dude, that is so wrong."

"I be yo' daddy, Roka."

Unable to help the rumble of laughter that surged out of him, Evan shook his head and traded flasks with Bone since his was under half full.  "My mama's got too much class for the likes of you, but nice try."

Bone chuckled, but he didn't deny it.  "So what's the four-one-one on you and V?"

Evan sighed and rubbed the back of his neck. "We're friends," he said, hoping that he sounded a little more upbeat about it than he was actually feeling.

Bone blinked and leaned away to give Evan a rather disbelieving sort of look.  "Friends?  You mean like you and Maddy?"

"I wish," he grumbled before he could stop himself.  "No, just friends."

"You mean, you ain't fuckin' her?"

"Nope," Evan admitted with what he hoped was a devil-may-care shrug.  "She's engaged . . . talk about nutsacks . . ."

"Wait, wait, hold on . . . You're telling me that you're spending all this time with her, and you're not even dunkin' the doughnut?"

"It's part of my plan," he insisted, tipping the flask to his lips.  "You'll see."

Bone snorted loudly.  "Sounds like you ain't got a plan, Roka.  Not surprising.  She's too good for you, anyway.  Now, me on the other hand?  She's more my type: classy, smart . . . just needs a bigger ass."

"Leave her ass outta this," Evan warned, only half-joking.

"Ain't nothing like a bitch with backside . . . watching those cheeks jiggle when you're humpin' the hell outta her . . ." He heaved a happy sigh, his smile turning a little stupid.  "I think I need to gets me some pussy."

"You and me, both," Evan grumbled.  "She has the prettiest tits . . . deep rosy nipples . . . perfectly round.  Shit . . ."

Bone reached over, clinking his flask against the one in Evan's hand.  "Could be bigger . . ."

"Fuck you, Boney."  He drained a good portion of the container.  "She waxes her bush."

"Wha-a-a-at?"  Bone considered that then grinned.  "Dunno, man.  That'd kind of feel like doing a little girl, wouldn't it?"

"Hell that," Evan scoffed, scooting down so that he was lying flat on his back with his feet kicked up, crossed at the ankles and resting just below the control panel.  "Nothing 'little girl' about V . . . just a whole lot of woman . . . She's got a tattoo on her pussy, you know?"  He heaved a longsuffering sigh.  "God, I wanna see if it's a scratch-n-sniff . . ."

"Pathetic, Roka," Bone scolded.

"Fuck!  I'm getting hard, just thinking about her!" Evan whined.

"Aw, well, don't—Hell, man, you know, I don't really need to see that . . ."

Evan closed his eyes wrapping his hand around his penis.  He'd unfastened his pants in what had to be record time, and he heaved a sigh as he slowly stroked it.  Fleeting images of Valerie shot through his head—the way she looked in the morning, all rumpled and sleepy and adorable . . . The smell of her body, of her skin . . . The innate softness that was her flesh . . . everything, everything . . . "Damn, damn, damn, damn . . ."

Drawing his legs up, Bone draped his forearms on his raised knees and slowly shook his head.  "Sick little monkey."

"I want her so bad, I can taste it," he went on, ignoring Bone's commentary.  "Every fucking thing about her . . ."

"Look, man, I don't mind being stuck in here with you, but do you have to jack off?"

"You know, she bent over the other day, sticking that pretty little ass of hers right in my face . . . I almost came, I swear to God."

Bone rolled his eyes and drained the flask.  "So tell her about it," he suggested.

The elevator jerked then started to move again.  Evan ignored it and continued to stroke himself.  "Do you think she sucks cock?"

"I think any woman has the potential to suck cock, ya," Bone replied, scratching his chin thoughtfully.  "Some of 'em just don't realize that potential."

Evan uttered a ragged groan.  There was a damn good chance that he'd die, right there on the spot if she ever, ever wrapped her lips around his dick . . .

The doors slid open.  Evan ignored them.  Bone got to his feet and slowly shook his head.

"I suppose you had something to do with that?" Mike's voice cut in dryly.

"With that?" Bone grumbled, waving a hand at Evan, who still didn't seem to have the sense to put his junk away.

Mike stared down at him for a full minute, a comical mix of disgust and boredom on his face before he reached down and rather roughly yanked Evan to his feet.  "Put that away, Roka," he growled, grabbing the flask out of his hand and bringing it to his nose.  "Shit," he hissed, thrusting the flask at the center of Bone's chest.  "Thought I told you to keep that stuff away from him.  He's drunk!"

Bone grinned as Evan clumsily shoved his penis back into his pants and tugged on the zipper.  "He's aight," Bone insisted.

"I ain't drunk, Mikey . . . Take me to see her," Evan said, swaying just a little bit.

"Hell, no," Mike interrupted.  "The last thing you need to do is piss off your attorney.  Besides, you have an interview with V-Com, remember?"

"V-Com . . . V-Com . . ." Evan snapped his fingers, his eyes widening.  "Oh, yeah!  That chick with the huge-assed tits!  Lorelei, right?"  He grinned stupidly as Bone shoved his shoulder to propel him toward the front doors.  "She gives a damn good titty-fuck . . ."

"You just think about fucking those titties," Bone joked as he shoved the doors open and stepped outside.  "She won't hack off your boys."

"Eh," Evan drawled, staggering slightly though he wasn't at all slurring his words.  "V wouldn't do that . . . She likes my boys—well, she will like them—eventually . . ."

Bone chuckled and yanked open the car door.  Mike heaved a sigh and slowly shook his head.

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'Black< /b> Water' by The Doobie Brothers first appeared on their 1973 release, What Were Once Vices Are Now Habits.  Song written by and copyrighted to Patrick Simmons.
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I have had two thoughts about this story. 1. Dieter was actually driving and Evan was covering for him so he wouldn't go to jail/prison. 2. You know how there are drawings of people with a devil and angel on each shoulder. With Evan I always picture two devils just one is better dressed HAHA.

Oh, if you only knew how hard I laughed at the devil comment
Sovereignty —— theblackthorn —— AtamaHitoride —— WhisperingWolf —— malitiadixie —— Sesshomaru4Kagura4ever —— Dark Inu Fan —— Meru —— monkeyseemonkeynodo —— Diem —— tessie_fanfic —— OROsan0677
laura.beth —— WonderAway —— Mangaluva —— cutechick18 —— MouF —— Midcat —— Zero —— OROsan0677
Thought from Evan:
Blanket disclaimer for this fanfic (will apply to this and all other chapters in Subterfuge):  I do not claim any rights to InuYasha or the characters associated with the anime/manga.  Those rights belong to Rumiko Takahashi, et al.  I do offer my thanks to her for creating such vivid characters for me to terrorize.