Songs from the DARK Jukebox

The Chauffeur
By
Kiix

July 14, 2009
Word Count: 2410
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There are some days that you just want to drive. To drive to see what is hidden beyond that next shimmering hump of asphalt in the distance then the next and the next. To drive until the landscape changed. To drive until you could get to that place where no one knew your name or face and no one cared. My fingers tightened around the steering wheel as I fought with the desire to just to that. It wasn’t my place to do something like that. I was background filler. I was supposed to be one of those faces that only looked somewhat familiar, if you could only place it…somewhere. That’s what made me invaluable. I was white noise.

The hum of the engine, the dry coolness of the air conditioning the way the open road looked through my shades was something that I really communed with. Some people could do that in a room with twenty others, sitting on a mat in awkward positions while listening to new age tambourines and cymbals. The noise the car made was my mantra or HIS music.

I took my eyes off the road for a second and glanced into the rearview mirror. My boss was sprawled out on the back seat of the limo in his usual scene of debauchery. He couldn’t have looked more beautiful. If you can call a man beautiful. He was face down on the leather seat, his profile hanging off the edge but his hair was swept back over his ear displaying the perfect silhouette. He was naked from the waist up. The body glitter from last night’s final show of the tour made him shimmer in the early morning sunlight. He was like an ethereal being that had fallen to earth and I was lucky enough to have caught him before he crashed to the hard pavement. The silver and grey army fatigue shorts were barely covering his butt. There wasn’t a thing about him that I could find fault with. When he was awake, his aura or charisma if you like called to all walks of life. Mothers with daughters wanted to be with him. Those same daughters flashed their non-existent boobs at him in during the shows. Fathers showed their disapproval but the leaked candid photos of him in the nude doing art photos back in the day when he was still unknown was the most downloaded demographic for those males aged 30-45 with an income over $45,000.

Then there were things like this.

I turned my attention back to the road then flicked my eyes over to the twink dead beside me. I knew Silver had that glint in his eye when we picked up this wannabe hustler. I had hoped that he would just fuck him and give him some cash. I should have known. It was the last gig for this album. Emotions were riding high and I did lose Silver for a bit so I think he was high himself. The next few months was going to be hell when he came down from whatever the hell he took and the guilt hit him.

After he kills an anonymous sex partner, he writes the most poignant lyrics. Case in point the name of the last album “Sing Blue Silver.” He had an orgy that went horribly wrong. Three men dead. I had a hell of a time cleaning up after him. The album went platinum in less than three weeks. Silver still had the record for the most downloads in a single day for “Remembering Your Face.” He didn’t know the man’s name but he did recall the man’s face. He still woke up out of those nightmares screaming and crying. These were the times that I made sure no one was around. The last thing he needed was to have his face plastered on the front page of the National Tattler. I don’t care what Karen his manager said about the press. There are some things that need to be kept private and his ‘inspiration’ didn’t need to be speculated about.

The blacktop was too conspicuous and we were out about three hours now so I slowed the limo and pulled off onto a dirt road. I winced as gravel pinged off the undercarriage and the rocker panels. Silver was still sprawled out on the back seat.

This dead man was really just a boy. Couldn’t have been more than twenty-one. So young and so stupid. Doing shit like that is playing Russian roulette and this time around, he had lost. Some spurned one nighters had started the rumor that Silver did anything and everything but he did have standards that he didn’t bend on. The body was slim and slight and just, and I mean just beyond the pubescent stage. He was Silver’s type --young and firm. Those were the type that gave him the most inspiration. Bigger men, just gave him physical release.

I quit thinking of what these broken toys might have become long ago. In a way, Silver made their meaningless lives touch the world. They would live forever through music.

I pulled over and scanned the landscape. No where. We were in the middle of no where. I got out of the car and secured it before I started looking for a good place to dump the body. I’d have to search to see if they practiced safe sex. If they didn’t…well it wouldn’t be the first time I would have to make sure that no physical evidence was left to tie it back to him. Not my most favorite activity and the day was so warm already. I wanted to find a natural gully or sink hole to drop the body but I think this was out of the question. There was a dry creek bed. It would have to do.

Silver was stirring when I came back to the limo. I pulled on my leather gloves before I opened the front passenger door and yanked the body out and threw him on the ground. Quickly I headed to the back door to help Silver orient himself. He was a mess and he reeked of sweat and sex.

“Frank?” His voice was harsh and raw. He had given his fans his all last night.

“Sir…”

“What did I tell you about that? Only on tour.”

“Of course you did, Sir. We’re technically not home yet.”

He opened his eyes and I was mesmerized by those pale grey iris. His real name was Henry Wilkins but Silver suited him so much better.

“Frank? Why are we…I did it again?”

“I hoped to have remedied the situation before you woke up, Sir.”

“I killed him?”

“I’m sure it was an accident, Sir.”

“Frank…you’re supposed to keep me from doing bad things.”

“I know, Sir. I’m sorry, Sir. I will take the blame.”

“I…I can’t remember. We hooked up back at the hotel and I had a shooter and nothing else after that…”

“Drugs will do that to you, Sir.”

“I wasn’t on drugs. I’m not on drugs…I promised you, Frank. I made a promise to you to get clean and I have been…someone must have slipped something in my drink…because I didn’t do anything.” Silver slumped back against the seat. I pulled his pants up and buttoned them closed then rummaged in the refrigerator and pulled out a bottle of water and an ice pack.

“Where the hell are we Frank?”

“You really don’t need to know Sir.”

“You mean, he’s still here?”

“Yes, as soon as I take care of you, I’ll dispose of the body.”

“I don’t even remember his name.”

“I’ll find out, Sir.”

“I’m sorry, Frank. I didn’t take anything. I know I didn’t.”

“It must have been in your drink, Sir. Here, drink water it will flush your system. I’ll be right back.”

“Frank…”

“It’s not your fault, Sir.”

“It never is, is it?”

I said nothing as I climbed out of the back of the limo. The heat of the quasi-like desert hit me hard. In a few hours it would be almost impossible to breathe. I reached down and picked up the young man under the arms and began dragging him away from the car. Picking him up in a fireman’s carry was out of the question. I had discovered the hard way that bodily fluids do not stay in a corpse. It was right rank. At the time Silver was a raving drug addict so my condition wasn’t that bad but right now, he would definitely freak.

The running shoes left heel marks in the rough ground. I’d have to brush those away on the way back. Because Silver was awake, I made sure to drag the boy further than I had intended. When I couldn’t see the limo anymore I dropped the weight. I was sweating.

“Uhhhh.”

I looked down at the body. His head moved.

Shit. Damn it. I got down on my knees and pressed my ear against his nose. Warm breath hit me. Trying to feel a pulse through leather gloves was redundant.

“Hey…hey.” I shook his shoulder.

He groaned and his eye squinted against the brightness of the sun. “Can you hear me?”

Plain brown eyes opened a mere sliver then closed again. His lips parted and a horrendous wheeze broke through his bruised windpipe. The purplish bruises on his neck were evidence that Silver had strangled him during some sort of sexual deviancy.

“Help….me.”

“Sssssh, don’t try and speak.” Damn it. Damn it. Damn it all to hell. I shifted so my shadow fell over his face. Even messed up as he was, he was a rare beauty. His dirty blonde hair should have been a rats nest. There was dark circles under his eyes and his lips held a tint of blue that leaked through the lingering remains of his pale grey lipstick.

“Do you know who did this to you?”

“Sil…..sil…..ver.”

“What was that?” I leaned closer pressing my ear up to his lips.
“Silver.”

I sat back on my heels letting the light of early morning hit him full on. I wasn’t angry with him – this youthful man. He had sex with Silver. He knew Silver in a way that I never would. In a way that I wouldn’t even dare to consider because of what I was. No, I wasn’t angry with this beautiful boy. He had experienced the joy of Silver’s touch. He had lain beneath him, his legs spread while the rock god pounded hard into him. The talented fingertips that stroked that tan kissed flesh. My hands copied the same motions that Silver had acted on the night before. My hands were so much bigger, stronger.

My hands began to squeeze around the convulsing throat. He was weak. Silver had almost killed him. It didn’t take long to make sure that the job was done. I watched as I strangled him. I owed this boy that much. I couldn’t turn away from this monstrous deed. To make sure, I took his head in both hands and wrenched his head sharply listening for the pop of a fractured vertebrae. Quickly, I stripped him. The last indignity I had to do was check for physical evidence. I was quietly grateful that Silver had practised safe sex.

I arranged the boy in a fetal pose, leaving him in an innocent manner for the angels to find. A thin wallet fell out of his pocket as I folded up the pants. Boris. His name was Boris? He had been twenty-one years old as of…yesterday.

I turned and left Boris out in the desert sun. Boris – a stranger. A stranger had met silver and now, because of my small contribution, his name was going to sung on millions of lips. No, I wasn’t angry with him for having felt the carnal pleasure with Henry Williams, aka Silver, aka pop idol of the known world. Boris had known a side that only a few hundred had experienced but he was truly intimate with Silver in an elite group of four. Well, no five.

Carl. Ethan. Ricky and David. Now Boris.

These songs were million sellers. Double Platinum. Triple Platinum. From tweeners to fiftyish sang his songs. Sing Blue Silver was his best album and tour ever. These young men had proven to be the best muses to his emotional truth. It came out in the music.

No, I would never be able to be with Henry the way I dreamt. In a way, these young muses were my tie to his genius. When the world sang of Carl, Ethan, Ricky and David, they were really singing about me. I gave Henry the creational fodder to get inspiration moving. Boris was not the first I had…released to Silver’s muse. I opened the trunk of the limo and carefully set the clothes inside. I would burn the evidence later.

No, I wasn’t jealous of any of them. They had known Silver in a way I never could. Frank would never be a name sung by anyone. I stripped my black leather gloves off and slipped into the front seat of the limo. Looking into the rear view mirror, Silver was propped up into the corner of the seat and door, asleep and innocent. The drug I had slipped into his water bottle the night before was too weak. I’d have to measure a little more carefully next time. The guilt would fester for a few weeks then Silver should lock himself in his studio and the next album would start to take place.

No, I wasn’t angry or jealous of any of them. I turned the key and the limo purred to life. The car responded easily to my hands as I pulled away from the dump site. A single tear burned in my eye. I wiped it away with the flick of a finger. No…I wasn’t angry.

I was envious.

-30-


"The Chauffeur" by Duran Duran


I used to own this on vinyl. Yes, I am that old. I always thought the melody was rather…creepy. I just didn’t expect this…ickiness, to come out of this song but damn, it just kept on driving down this road. It veered this way last Friday and I tried to rein it in but it just kept trekking back to it, so here it is.

Wash my brain, rinse and repeat…..repeat, repeat, repeat. Argh….

Should I continue with these songs or leave it be? Give me your thoughts oh, Loyal and true…