The Perils of Praline (22 page)

After they parked in front of Jason’s building, they got out of the car and surveyed the damage. Clearly the car was totaled. The dive into the parking lot had moved the front grill up about a foot from where it was supposed to be, while the rear end of the car was also pushed up from slamming against the parking lot during the bouncy landing. All in all, the car looked like a wilted U.

“Maybe this is a good time to tell you,” Praline began. “The dent in the hood…I put it there.”

Jason stared at him. “Yeah, that really matters right now.”

“I just wanted to be honest.”

That night, Jason spent a lot of time on the phone with his insurance company learning that they’d probably be doubling his insurance rates if he put in a claim on his probably totaled Civic unless they could figure out a way to blame the accident on the McQuickie’s billboard. Praline curled up on the tangerine sofa with his Box Studios employee manual and tried to get through the section on sexual harassment.

Unfortunately, after reading the entire section, it made even less sense and had only made him horny. Why was Jason worried that he’d sexually harass Dave G.? Yes, he wanted to have sex with Dave G. and, yes, he was calling him to “talk” about a job, but Praline was attractive. The policy used the phrase “unwanted advances” a lot.  How could an attractive person’s advances be unwanted? He wondered if Jason was as smart as he seemed.

After a while, Jason plunked down next to Praline on the sofa and opened up his laptop. “This may be why we were swamped coming out of the building.”

Praline looked at the screen to Harris Pilton’s blog:

NOT-SO BLIND ITEM: What Hollywood Hustler—having recently died his hair blue—was seen last night plying his trade in a West Hollywood alley! And…HP has been tipped off that this self-same Hooker Du Jour is day-lighting at none other than Box Studios!

“He knows I wasn’t plying any trade in the alley,” objected Praline. “I mean, unless he saw us later in which case he might have assumed, but he has no proof…”

“He doesn’t need proof,” explained Jason. “It’s gossip.” He took back the laptop and hovered by the door. “I talked to Clayton. He’s doing well and should be out next week.”

“Oh. Okay. I guess I need to think about where I’ll go then. Right?”

Jason shrugged. “Sure. I mean, I don’t think Clayton will mind you sleeping on the sofa.”

“But I’m a casting director now. I really should have a bed somewhere. Shouldn’t I?”

“I suppose you should,” Jason said. “Although, it is Los Angeles. You might want to get a car first.”

“Oh, yeah,” Praline said.

“We can start looking for cars this weekend if you want.”

“Okay.”

Things got quiet, then Jason got up to leave the room.

“Um, there’s something I want to say,” Praline said, surprising them both. Jason waited. “Um, well…you’re the best friend I ever had.”

Jason’s face got very still, as though Praline had said something rude. “Best friend. Yeah, that’s what I’m going for.” And then he went into his bedroom.

Wow, thought Praline, Jason really hate
d
him. He d
id
n’t even want to be friends. People had told him it would be hard to make friends in California
,
and, while much of his experience seemed to prove the opposite, he wondered if it were true.

The next morning, Tammy from Sid’s office called. They’d heard about the incident with the paparazzi at the studio and would be sending a limo to bring him to work. Praline offered to let Jason ride in the limo, but for some reason he insisted on driving the Civic despite the fact that it looked like a can of soda that had been repeatedly stepped on.

He was about to tell Jason it was stupid not to ride in the limo, but then he remembered it was probably his fault the car was wrecked in the first place. Maybe it was best to let Jason do as he pleased.

When he climbed into the black Lincoln Town Car, Praline saw the three henchmen he’d sort of met in Sid Gaffer’s office. This time they introduced themselves. Stu Corbert was in his late twenties, blond, blue-eyed and built like a high school wrestler. Manny Blunt, also in his twenties, was olive-skinned and Mediterranean looking with curly black hair, green eyes and extra long legs. Terrell Cody was a light-skinned African-American of about thirty with arresting che
e
k bones, a jutting jaw and biceps that strained his charcoal gray business suit. They all smiled at Praline in the friendliest way.

“We thought we’d have a story meeting on the way to work,” said Manny, his hand resting casually in his lap, one finger gently flicking what was probably the head of his penis. Already, Praline was distracted.

“We’ve had some ideas,” added Stu, who reached inside his shirt and pinched his own nipple.

“Exciting ideas about your life story. You’ll love them,” Terrell chimed in. He put his large hand very high up on Praline’s thigh.

Then, as Terrell’s hand slipped all the way into Praline’s crotch, Manny said, “We think there should be a love interest.”

“Oh, there is,” said Praline. “I moved here for love. His name is Dave G. and he was on the
House-Bound, Season 6
…”

“Won’t work,” said Stu. “Competing network.”

Terrell had undone Praline’s pants and slipped his hand into the boy’s Big Willy boxer briefs. Stu continued, “No, we need something with real drawing power. Oh, oh, I know! What about that little girl on the new kid’s show
,
Kids Rule the World
, what’s her name?”

“Angelica Parsons’ little sister, Kilo Parsons,” said Manny.

“She’d be a great love interest,” Terrell said, right before he took Praline into his mouth.

“Excuse me, I’m gay,” Praline pointed out, though he wasn’t sure why he had to point this out, since he
was
in the midst of receiving an excellent blowjob from a very attractive man.

“Don’t worry, don’t worry,” Stu assured him. “We’re going to approach this with absolute integrity.” He leaned over and stuck his tongue deep into Praline’s mouth.

“It’s gonna go like this,” Manny explained. “Kilo is your high school sweetheart. The love of your life, but there’s a problem. You like to suck dick. And she doesn’t have one.”

“Oh, that is a problem,” said Terrell, taking a momentary break from his own cock sucking duties. Praline eased Stu off and came up for air. He noticed that Manny had slipped down his pants and was pulling on his cock, which was rather long and curved sharply to the right.

“So there you are,” continued Manny. “You love her. But you gotta fuck guys.”

Terrell pulled Praline’s pants off while Stu removed his shirt. Moments later he was naked, and even though Terrell was again sucking his cock and Stu had lifted his ass up and was sticking his tongue deep into his pucker-hole, Praline had the presence of mind to ask, “Why can’t I be in love with a guy?”

“America has accepted that guys fuck guys,” Manny explained. “They’re actually getting comfortable with the idea. But the idea of two guys in love—romance? No way.” With that he joined the threesome and twisted Praline’s head so he could slip his curvy cock into the young man’s mouth.

Manny moaned, then continued with his story ideas. “See, as long as you love your girlfriend Kilo, you can fuck all the guys you want. It’s as simple as that. Are you on board?”

“Nnnmmmmppph,” replied Praline, thinking it awfully discourteous to ask questions of someone while you have your dick in their mouth.

“Great,” said Manny.

Stu stopped licking Praline’s asshole and suggested, “How about a bromance? You know, we add a hustler who’s really straight and having sex with men because he’s down on his luck. He and Praline form a deep emotional bond…but never have sex.”

“That’s intriguing,” said Manny, as Stu slipped a finger up Praline’s spit-lubed ass. “We should explore that.”

Praline pulled himself off Manny’s dick and said, “I have a really good friend, but he’s gay. And he’s not a hustler.” He meant Jason, of course. “And you guys do know that I was never actually a prostitute. It’s just a big misunderstanding.”

Everything came to a complete stop. Terrell stopped sucking Praline’s cock and Stu’s finger pulled out of his ass with a pop. Praline studied the development executives’ faces and said, “What?”

“Don’t ever say that again,” whispered Manny. “The entire project is based on the ‘executive by day, prostitute by night’ premise. Everyone wants to see that. No one wants to see an ‘executive by day, has gay sex for free by night’ kind of story.”

“Okay,” Praline agreed, partly because he didn’t know what else to say and partly because he knew that Terrell and Stu would continue their attentions to his nether regions if he was agreeable. And they did.

Manny slipped his dick back into Praline’s mouth. He ran his hands through the boy’s blue hair and whispered, “I don’t want to be insulting, but your ideas seem a little flat.”

“Mmmmmpppppph,” replied Praline. Stu
went
back to work on Praline’s ass
,
slipping in a second finger while Terrell
teased
the head of Praline’s prick with his tongue, and Manny
pumped
his face.

After a short while, Stu paused and said, “I think we’re getting near the studio.” Terrell and Manny stopped what they were doing and Praline was about to say, “Can we drive around the block?” when he realized that the three henchmen were lining up next to him. With great efficiency they came on Praline’s chest one after the other—presumably in order of seniority. Just as the last drop of jizz hit him on the belly, Praline let his own orgasm fly and nearly hit himself in the eye.

The henchmen began to dress, as Praline lay on the seat drenched in jizz. He wondered exactly how he was going to get out of the car and go to work. Noticing his predicament, Manny pulled a plastic box of baby-wipes out of the bar.

Apparently they had this kind of meeting often.

When he walked into his office, Jason looked up from his workstation and said, “Your mother’s waiting in your office.” Praline couldn’t believe it. He ran into his office and, just as Jason had said, there was his mama.

She was dressed in sandals, Capri pants and a purple blouse tied at the waist with an intricately braided hemp belt. Crooked in her elbow, she carried an enormous pumpkin-colored leather purse. Her hair was sapphire blue
;
apparently she’d read Harris Pilton and wanted to maintain a family resemblance.

“Mercy me! Praline, you have your own office and a secretary. In two days! Darling, that’s just amazing. I’m so proud of you.” Then she lowered her voice and said, “You didn’t give anyone your correct social security number, did you?”

“No ma’am,” Praline replied.

“That’s wonderful,” Robin exclaimed, then threw her arms around him.

“Mama, what are you doing here?” Praline asked.

“Darling, I’m going to be making some important changes in my life and I wanted to tell you about them.”

“Oh my gosh,” Praline said. “I saw this exact scene in a TV movie once. You’ve decided to have a sex change. You’re becoming a man.”

“No, darling, I need to change my source of income
,
not my genitalia.”

“Is it beginning to wear on you? Being an outlaw and all?” Praline gave her a sympathetic look.

“Oh, heck no. I’m not afraid of the DEA,” Robin explained. “It’s this fever for organic products. My clients have started to ask all sorts of questions about how my dope is grown and whether pesticides are used. Of course pesticides are used! No one wants some silly old bug eating up a cash crop like marijuana. Organic. Why that’s just ridiculous. One of the great benefits of dealing in an illegal product has always been the lack of government regulation. But now I’ve got clients who want me to sell them certified organic dope!”

“Can’t you get it certified?” Praline asked, innocently.

“Darling, the government does the certifying,” she said, exasperated. Then she added, “And I
have
spoken to my congressman about it, but he claims there’s nothing he can do. Now I ask you, what were all those contributions for if he can’t get me a tiny certification?”

“So what are you going to do for money, Mama?”

Robin gave her son a really big smile, the totally sincere one she always used when she got stuck selling substandard marijuana. “The most wonderful thing has happened, I’m gonna be on
The Dr. Jill Show
. I’m going to tell her all about my heart-wrenching attempts to save my homosexual son from a life of depravity and an eternity of damnation.”

Praline was shocked, “But Mama, you accepted that I was gay in about twenty seconds.”

“And I do accept you sweetheart, but Dr. Jill is paying me. Not much, but who knows where an opportunity like this can lead.” Like most Americans, Robin secretly dreamed of hosting her own talk show.

“
The National Inquisitor
.
The
Dr. Jill Show?
How can you do these things? This is your son.” Neither of them had noticed Jason scowling at the door.

“Darlin’, why is your secretary talking to me in such a derogatory tone?”

“Mama, this is Jason. He’s my assistant. We don’t use the word secretary. It’s demeaning.”

“Oh, well, it’s a pleasure to meet you, Jason.” Robin gave Jason the demure, innocent smile she reserved for district attorneys and DEA agents. “You may not agree with what I’m doing, but you have to admit, a mother knows best.”

“I would never admit that,” Jason said, betraying deep and abiding mother issues best left for another time. With a huff, he stalked out of the office.

Praline decided that Jason was at least a little bit right, and had to say something about it, “Mama, please don’t go on that show and tell lies about me.”

“But Praline, it’s a mother’s prerogative to lie about her children.”

“I’m a grown man.  Don’t you think if anyone is telling lies about me it ought to be me
?
”

“To me, you’ll always be my little boy.”

He wasn’t exactly getting anywhere so he decided to pull out the big guns. “Lying is a sin, Mama. You’re breaking a commandment.”