The Perils of Praline (15 page)

Then noted civil-rights attorney Endora Allgreen came on screen standing on the exact corner where Praline met Malcolm. She wore a pink tailored suit, had enormous dyed black hair
,
and wore a thick layer of foundation that probably sold under the brand name Deathly Chalk.

“This is an historic, precedent-setting case which will change the course of justice in America. We will pursue this to the Supreme Court, if necessary. It’s time for Special Interest Groups to take responsibility for their actions.” Then she tilted her head and gave the camera her trademark stern, steady look.

Scrawny Tawny Garcia-Gonzalez came on screen again, scowling impartially, and continued, “In other news, the FDA has pulled allergy drug Allernawt from pharmacy shelves across America. Citing the “Pro-America Aren’t We Great” Act, FDA spokesman Melvin Spitzwater noted that the potential for Allernawt to be used by terrorists seeking to undermine the virility of the American man poses a significant danger to national security.”

In the corner of the screen, the logo for Praline’s apartment fire appeared and Tawny Garcia-Gonzalez took a deep breath and continued, “The search is still on for the arsonist responsible for yesterday’s apartment fire in Hollywood. Police have stated that building owner Warren Filbert is now backing off his story, saying that it ‘may not have been arson exactly, it may have just been a slight misunderstanding.’”

Praline breathed a sigh of relief, it was one thing to be sought for arson and another to be sought for prostitution, but both at once was trying. He may have relaxed too soon, though, as the reporter continued, “Detectives working on the case tell Channel 8 news that it’s unlikely Filbert will be allowed to recant his original accusations. And in an exclusive breaking news story,” Tawny lightened her voice to indicate the story was humorous. “Minutes ago, News Chopper 8 spotted a naked man running along the Hollywood Freeway.”

“Oh my gosh,” Praline said.

Video taken from a helicopter played across the screen. Aghast, Praline recognized himself running naked down the freeway. Even from a helicopter his ass looked larger than he would have liked.

As the reporter described what was on screen, Jason said dryly, “You didn’t notice a helicopter flying over head filming you?”

“There was a lot of visual stimulation.”

Much to Praline’s relief the story ended and a commercial for Alleryezz, the newly released antidote to banned drug Allernawt, began. A woman ran through a field of wildflowers with a smile on her face
;
she stopped in front of the camera and spoke sweetly of sneezing and runny eyes when suddenly an attractive man ran over and mauled her.

Just as Praline began to relax, Jason said, “Well, that’s just great. Two out of three news stories are about you.”

Praline decided it was best not to correct him.

The next morning on the way to work, Jason continued to act cool, but as he pulled into the parking lot at Box Studios, he said, “Don’t worry, I’ll calm down by tonight when we go out. Provided you keep your clothes on all day and manage not to commit any felonies.”

Praline mumbled a promise to do his best, though even he worried that it might not be possible.

His second day at work was much like his first. He filed and filed and filed. Madison made Jason work through lunch so Praline went to the commissary and got them a couple of sandwiches.

After lunch, Praline went into the file room to look up Dave G.’s resume. It was there. So, of course, he snuck it back to his desk and studied it most of the afternoon. Just like Jason had said, there was no address, only the name of his agent. Praline toyed with the kind of
a
story he might tell Dave G.’s agent to get the actor’s home number. He could pretend to be a high school pal in Hollywood before going off to a war zone (Praline decided not to be specific about which war zone because, well, to be honest he could never remember exactly which countries were currently being occupied), or he could be a long-lost relative with an inheritance he needed to give to Dave G., or, and this was probably the best idea, he could pretend to be from the Wish a Wish Foundation and say a cancer-stricken child wanted to meet Dave G. before going to the great beyond. Of course, all of these were terrible lies and giving cancer to a child, even an imaginary one, was likely to create an almost insurmountable karmic debt. Praline wished fervently there was an option other than lying for those times in life when the truth failed.

Dave G.’s list of credits was scant
,
with
House-Bound, Season 6
at the top; then a play he’d done in North Hollywood and a series of commercials for Cali-Security Bank
,
and, in an interesting coincidence, an industrial film for Burke, the drug company Malcolm Wright was suing.

Toward the end of the day, Madison popped into his office. “I’ve been working Jason to the bone all day. There are some things I need to bring to my condo, do you think you could help me out with that?”

“Sure,” Praline said.

When six o’clock came, Madison showed Praline a small stack of boxes and asked if he would bring them down to her car. Jason sat at his desk, and behind her back kept waving and mouthing, “Just say no!” in what seemed a mute tribute to Nancy Reagan.

Praline shrugged it off and picked up the boxes. Following Madison to her car, she opened the trunk of the trim little BMW and Praline put the boxes in—presumably they were filled with actors’ resumes that she’d be staying up late into the night to study. She smiled at him as she walked around to get into the driver’s seat. To be fair, Praline did consider refusing to be helpful
;
Jason had actually given him good advice on a number of occasions. On the other hand, the situation seemed so mundane that if he refused he’d seem completely unprofessional.

During the drive Madison did most of the talking
.
“I’ve really taken an interest in you, Praline. I think you have the, uh, assets that could really take you somewhere in this business.”

Pleased that the two days of filing he’d done had somehow managed to show off his intelligence, his drive and most certainly his people skills, Praline preened. “Wow, do you have any advice you can offer me?”

Madison didn’t even pause to think about it. “Business is about personality. Contacts, networking, who you know, that’s all vitally important, but it can change in a moment. Suddenly, the people you know are out and you with them. That’s where personality comes in. Do you have the strength of character to go on and make something of yourself anyway? Can your personality dominate the personalities around you? Can my personality dominate yours?” Here she left a dramatic pause. “Well, can it?”

 Praline giggled and asked, “But what about working hard, isn’t that enough?”

“I love people who work hard. They’re great to have around—never forget to take credit for everything they do. It’s one of the ways to get ahead.”

“Okay,” Praline said agreeably, though he was hard pressed to figure out, as an intern, exactly whose work he should be taking credit for.

Madison mused. “CYA is the most important rule. Cover Your Ass. Always know what you’re going to say when things fail. And things inevitably fail. Even success is failure if you position it correctly.” She pulled the car into the garage, which made Praline cringe, given that the gate had once tried to kill him.

“But, isn’t it better to just focus on doing a good job?” Praline wondered.

“That’s the worst thing you can do. See, if you succeed no one asks you to explain how you did it, they just congratulate you and try to figure out how to make you look bad.”

On the way up in the elevator he tried to keep the boxes in front of his face on the off chance they ran into Jocks Hammer or Stewart. It would be better if they didn’t know he was in the building.

Madison continued, “If you fail, everyone wants an explanation. You end up with more attention and more allies. It’s your moment in the sun. One of the best ways to get promoted, besides sleeping with the right people, is to fail spectacularly.”

“Well, thank you for the advice,” Praline said, though he doubted he’d ever deliberately fail just to get a promotion.

They got off the elevator and walked the short distance to Madison’s apartment. After he put the boxes next to the entry table, Praline looked into the excessively dramatic living room and saw a tall, slender man standing next to the wrought iron wine rack/bar. His wavy hair was a lighter blond than Praline’s was normally, and every so often the man brushed it out of his watery blue eyes. Dressed in a silky shirt and a pair of drawstring pants that were almost pajama bottoms, his skin was a healthy, glowing pink.

Madison swept into the living room and said, “This is my husband, Dougie. Dougie, this is Praline—isn’t that the most adorable name?”

Dougie walked over and shook Praline’s hand. In a buttery British accent, he said, “It’s certainly a pleasure to meet you. Can I get you a cocktail?”

“I’m not old enough to drink,” Praline explained.

Dougie turned to Madison and said, “You’re right, darling, he is adorable.”

“Isn’t he?” she agreed. “Make him a lemon drop.”

“Fabulous idea.” Dougie went over to the bar and got to work.

“I don’t know…” Praline’s experience with alcohol was minimal. His mother was dead set against it. She felt it needed more Federal regulation as it cut into her business terribly. “What exactly is a lemon drop?”

“It’s practically candy. You’ll love it,” Madison injected.

“It may be illegal for me to give you alcohol,” Dougie said, “But it’s certainly not illegal for you to drink it.”

Praline wasn’t sure whether that was strictly true, but he had to be honest with himself and admit that it wouldn’t be the first law he’d broken since arriving in Los Angeles. “I do like candy.”

Dougie handed him a cloudy yellow drink in a martini glass. As he walked back to the bar, Praline couldn’t help but notice the seductive way Dougie’s ass cheeks moved around in his drawstring pants. Just like two puppies fighting in a potato sack, as they’d say back home. Though, why anybody would ever throw puppies into—
oh, crap
. He realized Madison had been watching him. Had she seen him checking out her husband’s ass?

When they all had their drinks, Madison proposed a toast, “To new friends.” And then, for some reason she and Dougie giggled. Praline sipped his drink. They were right
,
it was just like candy. If he concentrated really hard, he could taste the alcohol. But there
were
few times in life when it seem
ed
important to concentrate hard, so Praline had never gotten good at it.

Dougie and Madison were already finished with their drinks, while Praline had barely touched his. “I’m making you another drink,” Dougie said. “And by the time it’s ready I expect you to be finished with that one.”

Praline gave him a weak smile.

“Do you think my husband’s sexy, Praline?” Madison asked, as Dougie went over to the bar to make more drinks.

“Well, sure,” he answered. Some might find that an uncomfortable question and not know what to say, but Praline knew that the best course in awkward situations was to be agreeable.

Then Madison leaned over and whispered, “Do you want to fuck my husband?”

This question registered further up on the discomfort meter, primarily because Praline wasn’t sure how Madison wanted him to answer. He decided it best to equivocate. “If he wasn’t your husband, why yes. But I respect the sanctity of marriage.”

“That’s good, Praline. Too few people do. Too few people are capable of making the accommodations necessary for a relationship to work.” Madison kept her voice low and velvety. “What if it’s okay with me? What if I want you to fuck my husband?”

Gosh, Praline thought. Should he fuck her husband? It would seem ungrateful not to. They were kind, generous people and had been excellent hosts. And besides, she was his boss. If she wanted him to fuck her husband, he supposed he was obliged to.

After Dougie brought them all new drinks—forcing Praline to guzzle the rest of his first—Madison said, “Honey, show Praline your ass.”

Dougie returned to the bar to set down Praline’s empty glass. Then he leaned over and undid the drawstring on his pants. Slowly, he slid them down over his muscled buttocks. From his tan-line, Praline learned that Dougie favored a very tiny thong bathing suit. One he remembered from the Klevin von Cain website. And, given the way he leaned against the bar, Praline wondered if Dougie spent a great deal of time practicing that particular pose. He was certainly good at it.

Briefly, he imagined husband and wife rehearsing it each week after the new episode of
Hollywood Hospital
. Choosing that specific time because
Hollywood Hospital
was the sexiest show on television. Of course, Praline realized he shouldn’t be thinking about posing sessions and
Hollywood Hospital
. He should be making a decision. Should he fuck Dougie or not?

“Let’s go into the bedroom,” suggested Madison, and then led by example.

As it turned out, Praline never actually made the decision whether or not to do Dougie. He just did him. Like many young men, gay and straight, his decision-making process was clouded by the sight of an attractive ass
,
not to mention a couple of lemony martinis. Moments after Madison left the room, Dougie stepped completely out of his pants and followed, and so did our over-sexed hero.

When Praline got to the bedroom, Madison had already slipped out of her dress, leaving her in nothing but a push-up bra, a garter belt with black hose, and lace panties. Praline realized she must have worn them all day, which meant…she’d planned this. Unless of course she was a quick-change artist, though somehow he doubted that.

From a dresser drawer, she pulled out a riding crop. After his experience with Warren, Praline felt he must object, “Um…you know, I don’t really—”

“Don’t worry, darling,” Dougie explained. “It’s not for you.”

And then, as if to prove the point, Madison whacked Dougie on the ass. He yelped, while his emerging erection gave a jolt and grew stronger. Praline suffered an instant chain reaction hard-on. Dougie bent over the bed, and the curvaceous Madison ordered Praline to strip and put on a condom.