I yanked on Piece of Shit’s leash harder, and tightened it up around my wrist by looping it several times. He was all the way up to my hip bone and choking within seconds. I glanced down at him. “Let me find out that the two of you have been up in here fucking and whatnot while I was en route.”
“No . . .” Cough. “We didn’t . . .” Cough.
I loosened the leash a bit. Didn’t need anyone dying on me. Imagine the headlines:
Wicket Discovered with Dead Naked Male and an Unidentified Samoan Female in Hilton Head Mansion
Is Wicket More Wicked Than We Thought? Secret BDSM Lifestyle Uncovered After Man Chokes to Death in Hilton Head
Famous Singer Wicket Caught Up in Sadomasochistic Murder!
The press would have had a field day; especially the bitches trying to make names for themselves by talking shit about talented and famous people. The funny part was that no one ever remembered their names, or even read their bylines, and they were still nobodies with no talent at the end of the day.
“Listen up, I want both of you to get your asses into separate showers right this second and get to scrubbing. I don’t know if you’ve been up in here fucking or not, but I won’t tolerate no bitch-ass behavior up in here!”
“Yes, Mistress,” they whispered in unison.
“Get to moving. I’m going to check out the rest of the house and make myself a drink. Did you get my fucking liquor?” I eyed Glaze with disdain.
“Yes, Mistress. Your Absolut Crystal is on the bar.”
“It fucking better be!” I let the leash go completely. “Now get the hell out of my face! Both of you!”
Glaze got up off the lounger and walked past me. I hit her on the ass with my Hilde Palladino bag that I’d purchased on tour in Norway. She jumped a little. “Bitch, you better not flinch from that little hit. Wait until I rip into that ass out there in the sand. You better get prepared.”
“I’m ready, Mistress,” Glaze replied. “I love pain. Bring it on.”
I fought back a grin. Instead, I frowned. “Oh, I’m going to bring the shit on, all right. Now go get your filthy ass into a shower. You smell like dick.”
Piece of Shit and Glaze were not crazy enough to be fucking outside my presence—at least I didn’t think they were—and she didn’t smell like dick. It was all a part of blowing off steam for me.
As she walked off into the house, Piece of Shit had the audacity to try to get up on two legs and walk. I pushed him so hard that he fell backward and hit his head on the porch ledge. “Motherfucker, are you insane? You better crawl your ass into the house. Matter of fact, once I fix my drink, I’m coming to check on you in that shower and you better be on all fours like the affenpinscher that you are.”
He started crawling. “Yes, Mistress.”
I kicked him in the left buttock as he entered the house.
I walked into the house to find the bar. While I was pouring my drink, I got a text alert on my cell phone. It was Michael. I’d been messing with his head since the night he gave me his number. I made it seem like I could get him an acting job. Technically, I could, but there was no way in the world that I would actually make it happen.
MICHAEL: HEY, WICKET. JUST CHECKING IN. ANY GOOD NEWS FOR
ME?
ME: GIVE ME A FEW MORE DAYS. WAITING TO HEAR BACK ON A POSSIBILITY.
MICHAEL: OKAY, COOL. THANK YOU.
ME: NO WORRIES. IF I CAN HELP YOU, I WILL. YOU HAVE MY WORD.
MICHAEL: YOU’RE THE BEST.
I started conniving a plan in my head right then and there. So far I had merely been stringing him along. Now it was time to actually exact some revenge on his ass. Time kills all deals so I was sure he was starting to panic. He kept texting me to try to seem relevant somehow. Soon he would start lying about having other opportunities that he didn’t want to pass up if I wasn’t serious. He would try to spin the tables and act like he was doing me a favor by offering up his acting skills, instead of the other way around. It was the oldest game in the book, but what people never realized was that artist development executives, publishers, agents, and the rest invented the game. Sure, there were some truly significant people who did have deals coming at them right and left—I was one of them—but most were peddling a crock of shit.
Michael was a peddler just like Bianca and Cherie. I was still stringing them along as well but planned to save the best for last. I wanted to ruin all of them—even if it was by reputation only—and make them pay for the rest of their natural lives.
As Glaze came out of one of the bedrooms, freshly bathed and wearing a towel, it all became clear.
“After this trip, I want you to meet me back in Atlanta. I’ll get you a room at the W, and fill you in. I need you to do something for me.”