Our Kingdom of Dust (9 page)
The party broke up relatively early, as Theresa Skywalker absolutely had to get to MGM Studios by eleven AM the next day to see Ron Stoppable’s first performance. Michael and Belinda had to, no shit, “take care of the baby.” And Miss Nancy, bless her old heart, was starting to nod off on the loveseat.
I stayed at Jay’s, crashing on the couch. Lisa stayed the night, too, which sucked. Knowing she was in his bedroom, probably fucking him, made me extraordinarily jealous. Luckily I hadn’t gotten too drunk, so I didn’t do or say anything inappropriate around him that would make him think something was going on between me and Lisa. But the downside of not being drunk was that I stayed awake all night picturing the two of them in the bedroom together. Ugh.
The next morning, after maybe two hours of sleep, I woke up to the sound of Lisa yelling.
“What the fuck, Jay? You’re going to start charging me for The Dust now? I’m your fucking girlfriend!”
Indecipherable mumbling from Jay.
“I don’t give a damn about profit margins or costs or any of that shit,” yelled Lisa. “How about I start charging you to fuck me? And you’d better bet the costumes and role-playing will be extra, you fucking pervert!”
More quiet, seemingly calm talking from Jay that I couldn’t make out.
“What? No, of course you can’t borrow money from me! I’m living paycheck to paycheck as it is. Sell some of your Disney shit!”
Slightly louder response from Jay. I could make out, “…need the money now,” but that was about it.
“Well, that was pretty poor planning on your part, but there’s no way you’re dragging me down with you.”
Jay’s voice was low again. Really low.
“Are you threatening me? I’m getting off that shit anyway! I don’t need it anymore. Fuck this. I’m outta here.”
A door slammed, and Lisa came running out into the living room, phone in hand.
“I need a cab at 9615 Gamling Lane. As fast as you can, please.”
“Shit, Lisa. Really?” I said, sitting up and rubbing the crust from my eyes.
“I told you, Blaine. That was the last straw. Bastard is trying to charge me for The Dust? Total bullshit. I don’t need him or The Dust.”
“Yeah, sure,” I said, stunned. It was all very surreal.
Jay came storming out of the room, naked. Lovely.
“Lisa, I forbid you to leave!” he said, his voice fairly calm.
“You may own all this Disney shit,” said Lisa, gesturing around the house. “But you don’t own this princess.”
She walked out the door and he followed, apparently too wound up to bother putting clothes on.
Great. Now there was a fat naked man with a body full of tattoos chasing a hot chick down the road. This certainly wouldn’t draw any attention. I watched them, Lisa screaming obscenities at him, while he just stood there and took it, occasionally interjecting to no avail.
But then she must have said something really nasty, because he grabbed her shoulders and started shaking her.
“You’re hurting me!” I heard her yell.
I barely remember grabbing the empty champagne bottle and running out to them.
“Jay,” I said slowly, the bottle raised in a striking position next to his head. “I’m only half awake right now, but I will absolutely break this bottle over your head. Please take your hands off Lisa and go back into the house.” I glanced at his shrunken cock. “And for Christ’s sake, put some goddamned clothes on.”
He immediately let go of her.
“Blaine….” He looked down at his naked body. “I….” He looked at Lisa, who was crying.
“I’m so sorry,” he said, and ran back into the house.
Lisa and I stood there staring at each other. I didn’t know what to say. It was strange seeing someone so strong-willed looking so weak and vulnerable. I wanted to comfort her, to wipe her tears away, to do something to make her feel better. But shit, if Jay was watching, who knew what he’d do in the state he was in?
The cab pulled up and Lisa got in.
“I’ll call you in a few days,” she said.
“Promise?”
“Yeah.”
The cab drove off, and I was surprised to find myself choking up. It was something about the tone of her voice. I was pretty sure she wasn’t going to be calling me. And that sucked, because I was in love with her. I mean, I’d certainly never threatened to break a champagne bottle over anyone’s head for a chick before…. That must be love, right?
I didn’t have much time to dwell on it, because right then a cop car pulled up.
“Shit,” I said.
The officer, a burly guy, got out of the car.
“Hello, Officer,” I said weakly.
“Sir, we’ve received a report of a possible domestic violence situation,” he said.
“Yeah….” I said. “Everything’s okay now. Everyone’s fine. She just drove off in a cab, and he’s back in the house now. Nobody got hurt.”
“May I ask why you’re holding that bottle in your hand?” he asked.
“Oh. Right. Um, it looked like maybe things were getting a little out of hand. So I came out here to break it up.”
“That’s the job of the police, sir. If you’d hit someone with that bottle you could have been charged with aggravated assault.”
“Really?”
“Absolutely. And the male suspect is back in the house?”
“Yeah, Jay.”
“Do you think I could talk to him?”
“Sure. I mean, I guess. Hopefully he’s put some clothes on.”
“So the suspect was nude in public?”
“Shit. Yeah.”
We walked up to the house and the officer knocked on the door. Jay opened it, wearing a sweat suit. He seemed totally chilled.
“Hello, Officer,” he said.
“I was called here on a possible domestic violence incident. Do you mind if I ask you a few questions?”
“Sure, no problem.”
“Can I come inside?” asked the officer.
“It’s a bit of a mess,” said Jay. “Can we talk out here?”
The officer paused. I saw something cross his face. Suspicion?
“Of course,” he said, after a second. “Full name?”
“Jason Montgomery.”
“Mr. Montgomery, is it true that you were out on that corner, arguing with a female, while in a state of undress?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Okay,” said the officer. “I’m going to have to bring you in for public indecency. You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say or do can and will be held against you in a court of law. You have the right to talk to a lawyer before answering any of our questions. If you cannot afford to hire a lawyer, one will be appointed for you without cost and before any questioning. You have the right to use any of these rights at any time you want during this interview. Do you understand these rights as they have been read to you?”
“I do,” said Jay.
“And if the female in question decides to press charges, that will also be an aggravated assault charge. At the very least it sounds like she definitely has grounds for a restraining order. Please turn around so I can place the handcuffs on you.”
“Yes, sir, Officer,” said Jay, without any sign of emotion.
“Jesus,” I said.
“Thank you for your help, sir” the officer said as he led Jay towards the police car. “And in the future, please don’t even think about hitting someone with a bottle.”
Jay turned to me. “I’m sorry about this, Blaine. The keys to the limo are on the nightstand in my bedroom, if you want to drive yourself back. Please don’t bail me out.”
“What?”
He yelled back as the door closed. “Do not bail me out!”
I stood there as the police car drove off. He was obviously not in his right mind.
About five hours later, once his bail had been set at $3K, and once I’d figured out how to drive that damned limo, I was at the police station, bailing him out.
“I told you not to bail me out,” he said.
“You’re welcome,” I responded. “Can you please drive me back to The Beach Club?”
We drove the whole way there in silence. When we stopped at the entrance I opened the door myself, and got out.
“Let me know if you need anything, okay?” I said.
“I could use some cash,” he replied. “I’ll probably lose my job at the limo company after all of this. I missed a whole day’s worth of pickups, and I imagine they’ll find out about the arrest.”
“Yeah, man, sure. No problem. How much?”
“Two hundred?”
I pulled three hundred from my wallet and handed it to him.
“This is all I’ve got on me. Please get your shit together, dude,” I said.
“I’m trying, Blaine. I really am.”
He hugged me, and all I could think about was how this was my fault. If I hadn’t kissed Lisa, maybe she wouldn’t have left, and maybe he wouldn’t have gone to jail.
“Call me if you need anything,” I said, and walked into the hotel, totally drained. When I got to my room I fell on the bed and passed the fuck out.
The phone woke me up.
“Hello?” I said.
“Mr. McKinnon? It’s Charles. I’m at the Belle Vue. Will you be joining me?”
“Oh, shit. Yeah. Sorry, Charles. Rough night. Rough day, actually. You mind waiting about thirty minutes while I get my shit together?”
“No problem. I’m here every Thursday anyway!”
“Okay, cool. See you in a bit.”
I couldn’t think of a goddamned thing Charles could tell me about Jay that would match what had happened that morning.
Boy was I wrong.
Walking into the Belle Vue Lounge, I was surprised by how low-key it was. A whitewashed wood bar with a polished granite top, surrounded by shelves filled with old games, books, and trinkets. There were plenty of private nooks and crannies, giving the place a bright but intimate olde-tyme feel. It suited Charles perfectly.
I saw him at the bar, drinking what looked to be Scotch, and the best thing was that he was still wearing his Greeter outfit, even though we were the only ones there aside from the bartender.
I pointed to the outfit, smirking.
“Have to keep up appearances while on stage!” he said cheerfully.
“You’re a dedicated man, Charles.”
“You got that right, Mr. McKinnon. This job is the love of my life.”
“Seems like you’re very good at it,” I said, leaning against the bar. “Speaking of which, I think you can drop the Mr. McKinnon crap when you’re not on duty. Just call me Blaine, okay?”
“Sounds fair to me, Blaine!” he said, beaming. “So what’ll you have, sire? I’m buying, and don’t even try to tell me differently.”
“I could desperately use a gin and tonic.”
The bartender nodded and poured one of the better gin and tonics I’d ever had. Half a Key lime, some sort of gourmet tonic water, Plymouth gin, and crushed ice. Definitely put me in a better mood.
“Let’s sit over here,” said Charles, motioning to two chairs and a table overlooking the balcony. “Gorgeous view at sunset.”
“Yeah, it’s nice,” I said. “Look, Charles, I think I pretty much know everything I need to about Jay Montgomery.”
“Oh?” said Charles. “And what do you think you know about our friend Jay?”
“I found some article from the Sentinel on Google. He got an inheritance when his dad died, his mom is in a nursing home, he collects Disney shit, he drives a limo… and he’s obviously dealing drugs.”
Charles nodded, smiling. “You’re right about the drugs, son, but the rest is just the same old yarns he’s been spinning for years. He’s trying to build up some mythology about himself because the reality would be much less appealing to his so-called fans.”
“Okay, I’m listening,” I said, dubious. Before this morning I probably wouldn’t have believed a damned thing Charles had to tell me, but now… I was a little more receptive.
“First of all, his father isn’t dead. He lives down in Tarpon Springs and takes care of his mother, who has Alzheimer’s.”
“But that doesn’t make any sense. Then what about the inheritance? How’d he afford to buy all that stuff?”
“I’m getting to that. Anyway, he tells people his father is dead, but really his father disowned him when he left his first wife and their two kids.”
“Oh yeah! I saw them in his scrapbook!”
“The way Jay told it to me, he was twenty-two, had a wife who nagged him all the time, but two kids who he really loved. His father was setting him up as the heir to the family business. But Jay wanted nothing to do with the business, or the marriage. He felt like he’d settled down too young and needed to be free. Well, that didn’t go over too well with his father, and they got into a big fight. When Jay finally left his wife and kids, his father disowned him. That’s when he got his first tattoo, that Snow White one on his shoulder.
“Once he’d left his family, he went hitchhiking around the East Coast, dealing hash for a living. After a few weeks, he figured out that he hadn’t budgeted his money very well, and was low on hash. Knowing it was a dangerous business he was in, he’d brought a gun for self-defense. So his bright idea was to use the gun to stick up a convenience store. Now, mind you, he just wanted cash, he didn’t want to hurt anyone.
“As he tells it, he was wearing a leather jacket a little too small for him, and the gun is in the pocket, and when he goes to pull out the gun at this cashier, he fumbles it and ends up looking like a buffoon. Eventually he gets the gun out and points it at the cashier, who by his account was a very attractive female.
“‘Give me all your money,’ he says, realizing how ridiculous it sounds the second it comes out of his mouth.
“Well, this attractive lady takes one look at him and says, ‘No.’
“He presses the gun into her, but she still says ‘No’.
“You see, she knows he’s not going to shoot her in cold blood! She can see it in his eyes that he’s no murderer!
“Well, he figures this out pretty quickly, and decides to just run off. He gets maybe a half mile down the road before the county police pick him up and cart him off to jail. He admits everything, pleads guilty to all the charges without even trying to get a plea bargain, and gets sent to the State Penitentiary in New York for ten years.
“He told me he loved it in there. Didn’t want to leave. Loved the scheduled activities, loved having someone cook for him, loved having other people manage every second of his life. He didn’t have a care in the world in prison. Everyone did everything for him, and all he had to do was pass the time reading, or walking around the grounds, or talking to the other inmates. He told me it was the best time of his life, and I believe he was serious.”
“Wow,” I said, actually shocked that anyone could enjoy prison. But that explained why he hadn’t wanted me to bail him out.
“Indeed,” said Charles. “Well, once he was released, he tried to go straight. One of the inmates he’d befriended had a brother who owned a limousine company, and he got a job there washing and maintaining the cars. He got married again and had another kid, a daughter, and eventually he was promoted to a driver. But he was spending all of his money on Disney tattoos and memorabilia, when his wife wanted him to save for his daughter’s college. And keep in mind he’s still paying child support for his other two kids! Well, to pay the bills he started selling hash again. Then he moved onto acid and coke, and eventually to crack and heroin. At that point he was selling almost exclusively to Cast Members.”
“There are Cast Members hooked on crack and heroin?!” I asked.
“Oh, you better believe it!” replied Charles.
“Walt would not approve.”
“No, sir. And Jay’s second wife didn’t approve, either. It didn’t take long before she got sick of drugged up people coming and going at all hours of the night, especially since her family was still living on the edge of poverty. Because the money was going right back into Jay’s memorabilia habit! So she divorced him. The daughter stayed with him for a while, until I suppose she no longer thought his Disney obsession was ‘cool’, and then she left to live with her mother.
“I think this is where he hit rock bottom again, although according to him he was doing just fine. As he likes to tell it, a fairy came down and whispered into his ear the recipe for a special potion that would help a lot of people. It’s a lot of hogwash, if you ask me. I think he got the recipe while he was in prison. Regardless, he stopped selling all of the other stuff and started cooking up batches of this new drug.
“It’s truly amazing stuff, Blaine! It makes the world seem like a wonderland where nothing bad happens and everything is perfect and… well, I know it’s clichéd, but it makes everything seem ‘magical’.”
“Is this that ‘dust’ stuff that I heard them talking about?” I asked.
“Yes! He calls it ‘The Dust’. And the way it sparkles… it’s glorious.”
“I guess this is where you enter the story?” I asked, finishing my drink.
“Yes, sir,” said Charles. “Another for the boy, and another for me, too!” he shouted to the bartender.
“Much appreciated,” I said.
“You’re going to need it for this next part,” said Charles.
The bartender came over with another wonderful gin and tonic and I took a big gulp. Charles sipped his Scotch carefully.
“Proceed, kind benefactor!” I said.
“Well,” continued Charles, “It was a little over two years ago when I first met Jay, and I’d been employed at Walt Disney World for fourteen years. I’d worked my way up from janitor at EPCOT Center to valet at The Beach Club. So I’d see him every day as he brought people to the hotel in his limo. Eventually we got to talking, and I felt he was a very nice gentleman. We were going through divorces at the same time, and I was having trouble dealing with mine. They’d promoted me to Greeter the day my divorce was finalized, and I just didn’t know if I could do it. I didn’t know if I could smile for all those lovely people all day and then go home and be okay with being completely alone.”
He paused. I sipped my drink.
“You see, Blaine,” said Charles, “the secret is that you don’t need The Dust in the parks. Oh, no, you don’t need The Dust here at all. It’s when you’re not in the parks, when you’re home alone thinking about all the things that are wrong with your life… that’s when you start to feel like the world out there is too complicated and sad and scary to deal with. That’s when you need The Dust.”
“So you started taking it? The Dust?”
“I did, indeed. And like I said, it was truly wonderful. It made me be able to go home and feel just like I do here. Like kids were smiling at me all day! I was all alone, but I didn’t care. I had The Dust!”
“Yeah, that’s the way people were talking about it at the party last night.”
“A party, you say? Was Miss Nancy there?”
“Yeah, she was!” I said, surprised.
“Fine, fine woman, that Miss Nancy,” said Charles. “I do miss seeing her. We sort of had a… thing.”
“What?!”
“Oh, it was just for one night. Her husband had died, my wife had divorced me, we were both at Jay’s on The Dust, and… well, one thing led to another, and….”
“Oh. My. God. I totally didn’t need to know that. The mental image is horrifying. Damn you, Charles!”
He let out a loud guffaw, and then sighed. “Well, glad to know the old lady is still kicking, at least. Too bad she’s still on The Dust, though.”
“I think she can afford it, Charles. Supposedly she’s filthy rich.”
“True, but the others aren’t. And the rub is, Jay is the only person who has it. He has the market cornered! And that made him a very wealthy man for a while. Of course, he blew it all on Disney memorabilia and tattoos, on top of alimony for two wives and child support for three kids. Didn’t save a dime, as far as I know.
“But the real problem with him not having a financial cushion was that he was always at the mercy of the supplier of his secret ingredient. Some child labor camp in China, from what I could gather. Which is yet another reason why the whole enterprise is terrible. Anyway, the price of this one particular ingredient would fluctuate wildly, and as a result the price of The Dust often increased exponentially.”
“That explains a lot,” I said, thinking about Jay’s argument with Lisa.
“And believe me, he’s putting a hefty markup on it, because he needs that money for his own fix. He’d swear up and down that he wasn’t doing The Dust himself. And it’s true! But for him, getting tattoos and buying more Disney merchandise served the same purpose as The Dust did for the rest of us. A momentary thrill, a short escape from reality. He should have just done The Dust. It would have been a lot cheaper.
“Anyway, it was two days after I’d reached my fifteen-year anniversary here at Walt Disney World. There was a big ceremony and they gave me an incredible brass statue of Cinderella Castle, with my name engraved on it. I’d never been so proud, because I’d never stuck with anything that long! And I was great at the job. My managers knew it and appreciated me for it, and that statue was a symbol of everything good that I’d accomplished in my life.
“After the ceremony that evening I went to buy my regular fix of The Dust, and the price was too high. It’d risen twenty times at least since the previous week. I couldn’t afford it. So I tried to quit the stuff, but after two sleepless nights I came crawling back to him.
“’I don’t have the cash, but I’ll give you anything,’ I told him.
“’I want your fifteen-year Cast Member statue,’ he said. ‘I don’t have one of those in my collection.’”
“Well, that tore my heart out. But I needed The Dust. In exchange for the statue he gave me what two weeks before would have been $50 worth of The Dust. He promised me that I could buy the statue back from him later. But he lied. He lied!”
Charles pounded his fist on the table. My gin and tonic sloshed violently. I picked it up and took a big gulp.
“In just a few months I saved up over a thousand dollars to pay him for that statue, which wasn’t bad considering I was still buying The Dust and paying alimony. But when I handed it to him, he said it wasn’t enough. I asked how much, and he said he’d know when I offered him the right amount. Well, I couldn’t keep saving and buying The Dust, and keep paying alimony. So I decided right then and there that I was going to get my statue back, and that I was going to quit The Dust.”