American Evil

Chapter III: The Knife Party

Chapter III: The Knife Party

Brian Ayer's Condo, Park Avenue NYC, September, Friday, 19.45 P.M

Brian Ayers lived in one of the tallest residential towers in New York, called the Skyreaper Building. There was only a few buildings that could match up to the Skyreaper's height and those were the Empire State Building, the Chrysler building and some business buildings.

Taller residential towers were still in the proccess of being built, but those projects had taken forever. The Skyreaper was just windows on the outside, which allowed for some spectacular views.

Michael Welhaven rang the doorbell. He had taken a golden elevator to get up to Brian's place, which let you choose from a wide variety of elevator music, like classic jazz and for the more serious, classical music. Michael had found Satie appropiate, and listened to Gymnopedie on his way up the floors.

While he spent his time alone in the elevator he thought of the revolver he had hid in his jean pocket. His blazer covered it and made it look like a regular cellphone or a wallet.

He felt a tear drop in his eyecrook when the memories of Jade and him resurfaced. While admiring the stars one starlit night, they had swore to eachother that they would die together. Maybe they would now after all.

Brian's door was decorated with a silver lion's head with a latin Caesar's quote beneath it. "Veni, Vidi, Vici". Typical Brian. He actually had the nickname Gatsby in some circles because he threw parties where no one really knew who the host was. They'd just been invited, and they never declined parties. These were dawnwalkers, the ones that partied from sunset to sunrise.

The host opened the door. He smelled of musk and had his dark hair slicked backwards. He was standing in the door in a elegant dark suit. Michael didn't need to fake his smile. Despite his gloom mood Brian had a way of cheering him up. They gave eachother a good hug. Michael was way taller than Brian so he had to bow down a bit.

"Good to see you could make it, Mikey!" "Yeah" he answered simply. Michael looked inside for Brian's bathroom, which he always forgot where was located. Brian's place had a pure minimalistic design, but every room looked the same.

"What have we got?" Michael whispered. Brian winked and lead him to his 20K bathroom. It looked like a small greek palace. Michael had forgotten just how spectacular Brian's place was, but now that he himself was living in a bleak hotel, it really was something.

There were two woman statuettes in human size that looked like they were made of Rafael standing guard by the massive sink. The huge mirror in the bathroom had a golden frame.

"So?" Michael asked his old friend. Brian gave his suit pocket a tap: "I got pure Colombian coke, if you're still using the stuff. Then some ectsacy, amphetamines and LSD. I don't know the quality of the acid, might be good, might be shit".

When Brian told him that was it, Michael had a small panic attack. "Wait, what? You don't have any ludes? What about Valium and Lithium?" Brian shrugged apologetically. "So we only got the speedy stuff. And bad acid." He didn't like this. Cocaine would fuck him up good and he couldn't handle ecstacy. He was in need of relaxing before pointing the gun at Jade and the kid.

Michael knew he could ask around at the party for any other drugs, but that was risky. He might end up swallowing sleep pills instead of ludes and then the plan was ruined. On early Saturday morning Jade would have a visit of her parents and he sure didn't want her parents involved in his little "homecoming" of his. The bitch deserved pain, but not that kind of pain.

"Fuck it, let's do the coke." he said boldly. Brian fished out the small bag of cola. The coke was rocky and looked as pure as snow.

While Brian was pouring out the coke by the sink, he giggled as he seemed to have a case of nostalgia. "Hey, remember those knife parties back in the day, Mikey?" Michael sure did.

"Knife party" was a code word Michael and Brian had used when they were teens, for parties where people brought coke. Every time there was such a party, Brian and Michael would bring their pocket knives. The cool adults would give them a gram or so and they would snort it off the blades. It was actually pretty clever because that way they could snort the cocaine everywhere without attracting too much attention.

"It's amazing we survived all that bad white, I swear half of that stuff was baking soda" Brian laughed. "Yeah, that shit was foul". There was a small pause. "How's Jade?" Brian asked. "She's good" he lied. "We're... happy together" Brian smiled and patted Michael's shoulder. "I'm glad, Mikey. She's good for you you know".

20.15 P.M

Back at the party Michael felt woozy and high up at the same time. He hadn't done this much coke since being on a private shooting range with John Ralph, an employee who had worked for him a year back. That day he had almost killed him in a coke-fueled rage. Ralph had quit shortly after of course, and it was thankful that he hadn't made a lawsuit or told the press.

Michael also felt really confident now. He felt like he could do anything, including killing Jade and her little bitch kid. The music from Brian's stereo systems played loud. He could feel the bass through his body.

Walking up the stairs to the second floor, he thought he recognized someone admiring the nightview over downtown New York. There were lots attractive people there partying. The old man sat in a white chair with a cheap whiskey bottle with a suspicious-looking woman on his groin. Probably a prostitute. Michael approached him and looked at his face.

"Shit, Seth McQuips?" The old man grunted and clapped his old hand on an empty chair beside him: "Sit down, sit down". Michael did immediately. "Award-winning film legend, McQuips. I can't believe it. I haven't seen you on the screen for years!" McQuips looked completely hammered. He also had developed a wrinkly appearance since Michael last saw him in on film. What was he now, he wondered. 60?

"Everyone now think they're fucking actors just because they're good-looking. Like Enus Summerhailer or whatever his name is. Hey, how old are you, son?" Michael answered starstruck: "I'm soon to be 32, sir" The cocaine was opening new worlds inside his head. McQuips' face blinked on and off and made funny faces. For a moment McQuips looked like an antagonist from an animated children's film. The euphoria over seeing a washed-up film legend was significantly enhanced.

"Stop lyin', son, you're 22 tops." Michael threw his head back laughing. "You're so fucking funny, Seth" he screamed. McQuips drank up his cheap bourbon. The hooker on his lap chewed bubblegum and had an impatient look on her face. She was probably waiting for when McQuips would finally get the sex done and pay up.

"Whatever, son. When I was your age, I played a retarded anorexic. I went down thirty pounds of weight. I tell ya, I spent an entire month with the mentally disabled" He squeezed the hooker's thigh. Now he was speaking in slow motion. His eyes looked twisted and dark and the whites in them disappeared, making them completely black. "I was Harris Batch, America's favorite retard. Made my breakthrough. You know what you are?... A fucker is what you are"

Brian's stereo systems continued to boom inside the condo. Now it was playing Viol by Gesaffelstein.

The film legend's face was becoming a complete blur now and looked ghastly. It made Michael fall from his chair. The people that danced around him looked like wraiths or phantoms. They also seemed taller - even the women looked like they were over 6 foot tall. The cocaine had come with unknown effects. One of the monsters bowed down: "You okay... Fucker". in a twisted voice. Its face didn't look right. He couldn't see its nose or eyes.

He pushed the creature away and made his way down the stairs to the exit. It was time to visit Jade before he completely lost it. His gun felt his leg as he make long steps out the apartment. His heart began making hard fast beats. That coke had been good, but he should never have taken it. He would have an enduring high ahead of him. Anything could happen now, even the unthinkable. He would kill anyone that got in his way.