CHAPTER 67 - STRIKING BACK AND THE APPLE CART GETS TOSSED

DAY BEFORE LAUNCH PARTY  

MICHAEL

Yesterday was my worst day ever; I am no longer a US citizen. Who the hell did that butt ugly fucking whale know to get this done so quickly?! In order to become a British one, I have to live here for five years first! In the last two days, the publishing contacts have been on a finalisation lockdown or something, but promised to respond to my revision emails today. 

“Where the fuck is that lackey?!” I stab the keyboard so hard rejecting the ‘request to connect’ message that I break a nail. “Finally!” I yank open the door and point at the screen.

“What's the problem with the desk?” 

“Not the desk! It’s the screen, I need to…”

“...ah, I’m afraid that I’m not the right person…”

“Not the right person?!” I toss aside a shirt and sit down. 

“Be careful sir, silk creases…”

“Forget the pissing shirt!  Why are you here if you can’t help?!”

“You called room service.” He glances between me and wine. “Shall I call IT?”

“Don’t look at me like that, I am not drunk! Just call IT!”

“My apologies, just give me a few minutes sir.” He doesn’t look as sorry as he should and that is beyond infuriating! “This sounds like him…” He opens the door. “...hi, Marco, now if you could explain the problem I am sure he can help. Have a good day, sir.”

”Is he normally that fucking chipper?!” I growl as the door closes.

“Yes he is, sir.” Marco laughs.

“Don’t you start!” I snap. “I need you to find out who this is, they keep trying to connect to me!”

“Of course, let me see here.” He checks some numbers. “It says they’re calling from Pittsburgh. Do you know anyone there?” 

“Yes, yes, connect the call!” I’m disappointed to see Hunter. “Mute that!” I order, grabbing my wallet. “Well thank you Marco!” 

“No problem sir, is there anything else you need?”

“No.” As I go to hand him £20, I knock over the wine. He saves it before too much is spilt, then starts to clean up! “Marco…” I pull at his arm. “...leave it, here's another £10!”

“...sir, if you won’t let me clean it, I have to photograph and send it to housekeeping.” 

“Be quick!” I demand, keeping my eyes on the screen whilst he plays David Fucking Bailey. 

“Please make sure you call them when you’re done, sir? Red wine will stain. If it doesn’t come out, you will be charged for replacing the rug.” 

“Yes, yes I will!” I grab his arm and shove him out. I take a gulp of wine whilst unmuting him. “Where’s the rest of my fucking so-called family?!”

“Letting you and me have some much needed alone time.”

“Even when your dullard daddy and I were together, I didn’t want to spend time with you!”

“Getting to know me then would have prepared you for now.”

“What now? What could you do to me?!” I spit. 

“I told them about your plagiarising…” 

“Well that tattling got me five million dollars!” I crow. “What did it get you, asswipe?!”

“The loft, plus there’s a bit of payback on you of course.”

“I don’t see how you owning the loft is payback!” I scoff. 

“Not the loft, you berk, I am the joint artist with Uncle Justin on Rage…”

“...why didn’t you offer to help me, you selfish fucker?!”

“I want to work on something good…”

“...he’s got to draw it first, and with his gimpy hand…”

“...you cloth-eared shiteater! Whilst Uncle Justin’s been resting his ‘gimpy’ hand and planning his wedding, I’ve been drawing, and the ‘meeting’ tomorrow is the launch party; it goes online as soon as the champagne corks pop!” I feel like I want to throw up. ”Be careful with that wine! It stains! They say clothes maketh the man, but you proved differently with that utterly pathetic ‘let me show you, let me show you’ with them threads… ”

“... I am not pathetic!” I fume. “Stop calling me a shiteater!”

“It’s the truth! Did they crouch over your open maw and just dump it in? Was the diarrhoea in a glass then you sipped or chugged it?” The more he taunts me, the harder I have to swallow. Finally, I push the vomit down then reach for my laptop. “Why not just leave dad?”

“He passed the time between the other good fucking I was giving and getting.” I snort derisively. “If he improved during ‘downtime’, I might have been faithful, but he didn't, so I wasn’t.”

“How does he compare against George?!”

“He was better by a country mile…” I snarl red faced.

“…and gave you anal warts and is your half brother, shiteater!”

“You will regret those words! It may take...” I bite back my scream of joy. “... and you’ll all find out soon enough just how much!” I cut him off. “So the publishers want me to approve the first issue, do they? It will be my pleasure!”

EARLY EVENING 

I am still buzzing from my final victory. I completely destroyed the first issue. Okay it's only a pause not a total stop but it's a knife in their guts like the one in my heart! I’ve been buying some more clothes since I’m going to be here for a lot longer now. My revenge mode reenages when I spot Orin. Accuse me of being drunk; now you’ll see what happens!

The receptionist is all smiles. “Good evening, sir, how can I help you? Oh, they are just so sweet!”

I turn to where she’s looking, Marco and Orin are now hand in hand. “Is that kind of thing allowed?”

“What kind of thing?” She frowns.

“I’d have thought a hotel of this calibre would frown on staff fraternisation; let alone over emotional public displays of affection.” 

Her smile slips. “How can I help?” 

“I want to book a table for one, what time is the final service?”

“Quarter to ten, may I take your name, room number and preferred time?”

“Michael Novotny in the 3rd floor junior suite and quarter to ten.” She blinks a couple of times. “That's not going to be a problem is it?”

“No sir.” She grits out. 

“Good, when they've stopped making a spectacle of themselves, I expect to see them in my suite within ten minutes. I’ve got things for them to do.” 

TEN MINUTES LATER

MARCO

When Cat told us what he said, we laughed; when we told her that he’s been calling up high class escorts but getting nowhere, she almost wet herself. We both smile as we step inside. “Good evening, sir, how can we help you?”

TWENTY MINUTES LATER

First he read the information pack, then listened to something on his phone; it’s killing him that we’ve not moved an inch or dropped a smile. He’s not our first lonely, jealous, gay millionaire and he won’t be our last! 

“Right, I need you to look at my laptop. And you can check and restock what’s missing from the fridge and bathroom.”

“Of course, sir.” Orin smiles, stepping outside.

“Where’s he going, my stuff is…”

“Getting the trolley, sir.” I reply, enjoying his disappointment at our preparedness! 

“Won’t be a moment, sir!” Orin trills as he wheels into the bathroom.

“Could you login, please.”

“In a bit, I need to check some things first.” 

“Of course.” I head to the bathroom. 

“Where are you going, use the staff john!”

“I am not using the facilities…” I return with the drinks, “...many hands make light work, sir!” 

“That's all done for you.” Orin steps out. “I’ve also refreshed the towels, robes and laundry collection will be in the morning, that department closes at six.”

“Leave; Marco’s going to be here for a while!” 

“Hotel policy dictates that no member of staff is allowed alone with guests after seven.” He glares at him. “I can pull up the policy if you want?”

He goes back to scrolling. “So the thing with my laptop is…ah ha they got my message!” He punches the air then tosses his phone on the bed. “This is what happens when you…” His stomach growling makes him blush. “...you’ve delayed me long enough. Here are my login details, it’s running funny. And you can move my reservation to nine thirty. After you’ve hung up my purchases.” 

“Sir, you’re running a DriveStrike…”

“Drive…no I’m fucking not!” He turns the laptop to him, jabbing the keyboard. “Stop it, make it stop!”

“Sir, just log into your account on your phone and stop it that way.” Orin calls over his shoulder.

“I don’t have a fucking account!” He trembles. “So it really does get rid of everything?”

“Only on the laptop it’s running on, the data would be safe, if you had it on your iPad for instance.” He grabs it then starts to sway, we help him sit down. “Get some water. Sir, you’ve had a shock…”

“...yes, shock over the…brandy is better!” He pushes away the glass, Orin pours with gritted teeth, he gulps it down. “...get on with your work! So everything on my iPad will be fine?! You give your word!”

“As long as you don’t delete anything on the iPad everything will…would you like one of us to get the door?”

MICHAEL

“Whoever it is, get rid of them!” I grab my phone and slam the bathroom door. I feel sick, my heart is slamming against my ribs. “I said I’ll be a minute!” I shout over the knocks as I splash my face.

“Sir, we’ve got to go to a staff meeting!” Marco shouts.

“TOUGH FUCKING SHIT!” I holler then hear muttering, followed by laughter. “I’m so glad you find my distress fucking funny!” I yell wrenching open the door. “You’re going to…”

“...what?” Brian asks, helping himself to the mini fridge, whilst Brandon looks through my iPad. “Bruh, want something? There’s beer or…”

“He got beer?” He scoffs, he hands him one. “This has to be a hotel choice.” He takes a few deep swallows. “We said they could go…”

“...they answer to me, not you!” I snap my fingers for my iPad. “Give me that and get out, why are you here?!”

“Where else would we be?” Brian picks at the label. “After what you tried to do with Rage.”

“Rotting in hell, and what did you expect after the shit you did to me!” I snark. “It's not my fault the publishers sent me…”

“...it was a fake link from Hunter. The moment you clicked on it the DriveStrike started. He's very smart, that nephew of mine.” Brian bends the screen of the laptop till it snaps off. “Everything goes ahead as planned, then we get married, killing two birds with one stone.”

“Here, you gonna take it?” 

“Toss it on the bed. I don’t want to get close to you!” I hiss. He does so with a smile.

“You had a chance…” Brian sighs. “...we fixed that crap of yours, it’s something you could’ve built on but you had to be Michael!” I ball my fists at the realisation. “So hope you’ve learned your second lesson. You’ve got five mil, use it to build a future, be a better person and…”

“...come on, bruh, we’ve got our futures to enjoy with men we don’t have to pay for.” Brandon tosses the bottle in the trash.. “He gave you money and I’ve given you time.”

“Just fuck off!” I yank the door open. “Or I will call security!”

“Will do no good.” Brian drawls as they head out. “We're guests here, and…”

BRIAN

“...you can’t even slam a door right!” I snap, shutting it in his face, then laugh at his screaming. “You were a lot calmer than I’d be considering what he said.”

“Hmm…” Bran grimaces. “...but at least he’s gonna leave us alone now.”

“Best use for the tax write off.” I snicker as we head down to our cars. “Explain the time you gave him.”

“Did you know he had everything from the year dot on his iPad?”

“So…”

“First, I deleted all of his emails but left the accounts active. Sadly there's no recycle bin for an iPad, so you really must delete with care…”

“...shit!” I gasp.

“...then there's his Apple ID...”

“...you changed the password?” I frown at Justin being at reception. “What’s he doing? Hey!”

“Hey!” He rushes up, the kiss curls my toes. “I’ve found it!”

“Hold a second.” I glare at Bran’s knowing smirk. “Apple ID?”

“I’ll let Justin tell you, it was his idea! Now, I know it's been six weeks for you, try to...” 

“Fuck off!” I grouse, as he heads to his car, Justin entwines our fingers. “What did you find?”

“Tattoo place! We can get them done before the launch…”

“No!” I growl opening the car door. “We get them after we're married, there’s a healing process!”

“We’re not putting it on my ass!” He declares clambering in, which tightens his jeans! “I’m gonna suck you off…” I rip off my belt. “...after I send this email.” 

“..who the fuck to?!” I wail.

“Michael.” He puts a finger to my lips. “As well as the emails, Brandon deleted his Apple ID so he’s lost everything.”