Chapter Forty-three: The Noble Monarch Hotel

Chapter 43

The Noble Monarch Hotel

Fabien brought a chocolate mousse cake to Celeste’s table and her eyes lit up.

Celeste: “I didn’t order this!”

Fabien: “No, it’s on me! Enjoy!”

He placed the bill on her table.

Celeste: “Thank you!”

She said this and dug into her cake. Then, he went to the bar to get Jaxon’s drink and brought it to his table.

The door swung open. Maxx came in dressed in a pink sequin zoot suit, pointy pink boots, a huge pimp hat, and star-shaped sunglasses.

Maxx: “MAXXY MALONE OF SEX BEEST IN DA HOUSE! OWWWH!”

He announced and shot his fist in the air. Anthony followed him to the cash register.

Anthony: “We’re picking up an order and going straight home, Maxx. I am not leaving you alone like the last time you tried to microwave a hamburger wrapped in aluminum foil! And why did you take an hour to get ready?!”

He asked sharply.

Maxx: “ ‘cause what if Filly-babe was here, Tones?! I’m Maxxy Malone of Sex Beest, not fuckin’ Fatley!”

He stomped his feet. Jaxon froze and turned around when he heard that obnoxious voice and splash of neon pink that was hard to miss.

Jaxon: “...What is that clown doing here?”

He twisted his mouth.

Maxx: “CLOWN?! Nah-ah, I ain’t no fuckin’ clown!”

He stomped his feet and froze when he recognized him.

Maxx: “Oh, NAH-AH! What are you doin’ here, you Maxxy Malone wannabe?!”

He rasped and stomped his boot.

Jaxon: “Wannabe? You’re the wannabe!”

Maxx: “NAH-AH!”

Anthony grabbed Maxx’s shoulders.

Anthony: “Maxx, we’re picking up our dinner and going home. We’re not clowning around.”

He said firmly. Jaxon laughed.

Jaxon: “Good one, because there will be nothing by clowning around with Maxx.”

Maxx: “NAH-AH! Tones, dat asshole stole from me! It’s why his ‘band’ is STEAL Axe ‘cause they steal from da Sex Beest!”

He whined and stomped his feet.

Jaxon: “YOU stole from US!”

He fired back at him.

Maxx: “NAH-AH! I did not, loser! You stole from ME! And da lady babes are lined up to fuck ME, not YOU!”

He growled.

Jaxon: “Da lady babes are lined up in the opposite direction to get away from you.”

He said dryly.

Maxx: “NAH-AH!”

He whined.

The patrons gathered around to laugh at Maxx. Maxx glared at him and clenched his fists.

Maxx: “You’re goin’ down, loser! I’m gonna make a Sex Beest Album and it will sell triple Maxximum for MAXXY! And your album will be da worst album ever!”

He said loftily causing a wave of laughter from the people watching.

Fabien: “Hey, Anthony, did you place an order to go?”

Anthony: “Yeah, I don’t want to dine with him.”

Fabien snorted and went to the kitchen to get his order. He came back with a paper bag and a bottle of root beer.

Fabien: “So, is your order a double bacon cheeseburger with cheese fries, a 20-ounce root beer, and fifty wings in mild sauce?”

Anthony nodded.

Maxx: “NAH-AH! I don’t want no fuckin’ wings or burgers, Tones! I ain’t Fatley! I WANT CHICKIE NUGZ!”

He whined, stamping his obnoxious cowboy boots. The patrons all laughed at the clown. Jaxon shook his head.

Jaxon: “You’re a pathetic man-child.”

Maxx: “NAH-AH! YOU’RE DA LOSER!”

He snapped, took Jaxon’s drink, and dumped it on his head. He laughed like a hyena.

Maxx: “AHAHAHAHAHAHAHA! Now your hair is not da mane!”

He shot him a fingerbang. Jaxon gasped and shot up from his seat as he felt the cold liquid traveling down his spine.

Jaxon: “You stupid clown!”

He snapped and grabbed a drink, tossing it onto Maxx. Maxx shrieked, and the bar trembled. Fabien lost his balance and held onto a table. The other patrons looked around, and one man asked his friend if he felt that. Celeste held onto her table. What the Hell? she wondered.

Maxx: “NAH-AH! MY SEX BEEST MANE!”

He cried.

Anthony grabbed Maxx.

Anthony: “I am so, so sorry about what he did. I will pay for that and we’re leaving now.”

He said to Jaxon with a pleading look in his eyes. Maxx yanked his arm away.

Maxx: “NAH-AH! I DON’T WANT NO FUCKIN’ WINGS, TONES! I WANNA NUGGIES! And I will make Sex Beest! Dat loser is goin’ DOWN!”

He growled and began knocking over the tables with food, drinks, and utensils crashing on the floor and glasses smashing upon impact. Anthony pressed his hands against his temples.

Anthony: “MAXX, WHAT ARE YOU DOING?!”

He screamed. The patrons laughed at Maxx and one man was taking pictures of Maxx throwing a tantrum.

Deimos entered wearing a motorcycle jacket, torn jeans, and cowboy boots. He opened the door for Tristan, who was wearing a double-breasted long black peacoat, black dress pants, and black wingtip oxfords. A blue scarf was wrapped around his neck and tucked into his coat.

Maxx: “Hey, JACKSHIT! UP YOURS, LOSER!”

He grabbed the bottle of root beer and shook it vigorously. The bottle top popped off, and Tristan was sprayed with rootbeer. Tristan screamed. Deimos’ jaw dropped.

Maxx: “Oh, NAH-AH! It was supposed to hit dat loser, not Lame-os’ frog boyfriend!”

He whined and stomped his foot. Tristan looked at root beer all over his new coat in horror. He could have broken down and cried. The color drained from Anthony’s face.

Tristan: “MY COAT! You ruined my coat, you foolish cretin!”

He cried. Deimos’ fury soared and he turned to Maxx.

Maxx: “Pffft, dat lame coat! It ain’t no coat like MAXXY’s!”

Before Maxx could go on, Deimos grabbed Maxx by his neck and strangled him.

Maxx: “AUUUGHHH!! ACK! H-HELP M-ME, T-TONES!”

He choked.

Deimos: “I will fucking kill you, you CLOWN!”

He growled. Anthony looked hopeless. He didn’t care what happened to Maxx anymore and didn’t know why he took him in. The joke stopped being funny long ago.

Deimos rammed Maxx’s head into the jukebox, electrocuting him all over. Maxx screamed and wiggled around until he went limp. Deimos spit on him.

Deimos: “Fuckhead.”

He went to Tristan.

Deimos: “Are you okay?”

He asked softly and caressed his cheek.

Anthony: “I’m sorry, Tristan. The dry cleaning will be paid for, I promise.”

Tristan: “Anthony, you didn’t cause this. You shouldn’t be responsible for that thing.”

He said firmly.

Anthony: “Well, I don’t think Maxx will survive that…”

He nodded to Maxx, who started wiggling around and lifted his head from the jukebox.

Maxx: “Filly-babe?”

He looked around smiling. Tristan and Deimos gaped at Maxx. Fabien cupped his mouth. Anthony drew a defeated breath.

Tristan: “He will pay for the damages here.”

He said firmly and left. Deimos glared at Maxx and followed Tristan. The bartender approached Anthony.

Bartender: “The manager wants these damages paid for pronto.”

He handed him a bill.

Sitting at a table in the back was Dr. Wolfgang Duerr in a black trenchcoat, black bowler hat, and black sunglasses obscured his eyes. He sipped his sparkling water and mentally noted what he observed from Maxx.

~

After Tristan ranted and vented to Deimos, Deimos suggested that he take a nice shower followed by a relaxing bath. Tristan was in his bathroom undressing and furious with Maxx for ruining his peacoat. He noticed something on his bathroom sink counter. It was a box with a silver ribbon. Tristan undid the ribbon and lifted the lid. It was a rose-scented relaxation bath set containing shower gel, hand cream, foot cream, body powder, bath salts, and bubble bath. Tristan traced his fingers over the foot cream and bit his bottom lip.

He took the shower gel and stepped into the shower.

After he showered and freshened up, he slipped into his silver bathrobe and drew a bath. He poured some bubble bath and bath salts into the water, slipped out of his robe, and stepped into the tub. He inhaled the lovely rose scent and lifted his foot to wiggle his toes. He couldn’t wait for Deimos to rub that foot lotion into his soles. He leaned back and closed his eyes, feeling his cares melt away. He noticed another box on his bathroom counter and smiled. Another gift, huh? He thought.

~

Tristan drained the tub and used one of his Turkish towels to dry himself. He slipped on a pair of clean underwear and brushed his hair as he used the hairdryer to blow it dry. He tied his hair back into his loose ponytail, approached the box, and lifted the cover off.

~

Deimos sat in Tristan’s room waiting for him. Deimos wore a black tank top with black gym shorts. Tristan stepped in. He wore a black tracksuit consisting of a hoodie with three white stripes worn over a dark gray t-shirt and black sweatpants. He was barefoot. Tristan laughed awkwardly and stroked his ponytail. He admired Deimos’ toned body. He wanted to trace his muscles with his soft fingertips. He cleared his throat.

Tristan: “What, you want me to join a gym?”

Deimos chuckled.

Deimos: “No…”

He nodded to the light blue yoga mat on the floor. Tristan eyed it quizzically.

Tristan: “What is this? Something for the cats?”

Deimos chuckled.

Deimos: “A yoga mat! Yoga is relaxing!”

He smiled. Tristan grimaced. He didn’t want to do yoga to relax but have Deimos massage that cream on his feet.

Tristan: “I can’t do yoga.”

He muttered.

Deimos raised the remote and turned the stereo system on. The sounds of rain pitter-pattering on the ground soothed Tristan’s ears and swept him into a relaxed state. It slowly transitioned into a gentle synthesizer melody imitating the sound of raindrops.

Tristan: “The music is nice…”

He said softly.

Deimos rose and gently grasped Tristan’s arms and lowered him onto the mat. Deimos lowered himself on the floor behind Tristan.

Deimos: “Copy me.”

He stretched and did the cat pose. Tristan turned his head and stretched his foot out. Deimos bit his bottom lip as he eyed Tristan stretching his long legs and flexing his slender feet. He got a waft of roses and felt a tightness in his gym shorts.

Deimos then did the camel pose. Tristan glanced at him and groaned. He bit his bottom lip struggling to do it and fell on his back. Putain! He thought angrily.

Deimos did the reverse plank pose and Tristan gritted his teeth as he tried to do it. Am I doing this right?! He thought, feeling his frustration soar.

Deimos checked out Tristan and his feet, admiring the view and feeling his desire for him to rise.

Deimos then did the lord of the dance pose. Tristan pursed his lips and swallowed. He stood up, standing on one leg, and tried to grab his foot but lost his balance and fell over again. He huffed and puffed. Deimos stopped and stood over him.

Deimos: “Are you okay?”

Tristan: “Deimos, ENOUGH!”

He snapped and flailed his arms. Deimos drew back and looked hurt.

Tristan: “I can’t do this!”

He cried and scrambled to his feet. Deimos looked away and embraced himself.

Deimos: “I’m sorry…”

He mumbled.

Tristan: “I wanted to relax by having you rub that foot cream into my feet! I don’t find THIS relaxing!”

He said sharply.

Deimos was cut to the core. He turned away so Tristan wouldn’t see he was going to cry. Tristan knit his eyebrows and felt regret for how he acted. He wrapped his arms around Deimos.

Tristan: “I’m sorry, Deimos… I know you’re trying… I did love the bath salts and soaking but I am not good at yoga or anything athletic…”

He bit his bottom lip.

Tristan: “I wanted you to massage that foot cream into my feet.”

He whispered into his ear. Deimos smiled a bit and shivered to his whisper tickling his ear. He turned around and wrapped his arms around Tristan, caressing his silver tresses.

Deimos guided Tristan to his couch and laid him down, propping his feet on his lap. He got the bottle of rose-scented foot cream, squirted some on his hand, and began massaging it into his feet. Tristan felt his cares melting away. He eyed Deimos lovingly as Deimos’ tender fingers massaged Tristan’s soft, slender soles. Deimos kissed Tristan’s toes and gazed at him. Now to work up the courage to get some tickling tools to make this much more fun, he thought.

Deimos felt his sexual desires burning and swiftly placed a pillow under Tristan’s feet. Tristan let out a peal of laughs.

Tristan: “Why the pillow?”

He teased. Deimos reddened.

Deimos: “For your soft, pillowy feet! I want this to be a pampering experience for you!”

He said quickly and flushed. Tristan cupped his mouth to stifle a laugh. Right, he thought. His tongue flicked over his lips. Should I tease him with my feet? He thought. Tristan rubbed his feet on the pillow and Deimos’ desires burned through. Tristan felt the hardness beneath the soles of his feet through the pillow.

Deimos saw what he was doing after he scrutinized Tristan’s brazen smirk. He snaked his arm over his ankles and wiggled his fingers over his soft soles. Tristan howled with laughter.

Tristan: “WAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA DEHEHEHEHEHEIMOS! WHY?! WAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!”

He laughed hard and thrashed around.

Deimos: “This music needs vocals and you’re providing it.”

He teased and vigorously tickled the balls of his feet. Tristan shrieked and laughed hard.

Tristan: “HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!! OH GOHOHOHOHOHOHOD! NOHOHOHOHOHOHO!! STAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAP!!”

He laughed hard and wheezed in between laughter as Deimos’ tickling grew more intense.

The door swung open and Deimos immediately released Tristan who was gasping and panting. Tristan’s feet tingled and his heart thundered in his chest. He removed his glasses to clean them. Celeste stood in the doorway.

Deimos: “Is Ivy’s pantry empty or something?”

He asked gruffly.

Celeste: “I followed the laughter and wanted to ask you two something.”

She drawled.

Tristan: “What, how ticklish are we?”

He asked wryly. Deimos froze and glared at Tristan.

Deimos: “I’M the tickler!”

He insisted. Tristan looked away and smirked.

Celeste: “I already know that both of you are extremely ticklish, though!”

She chirped. Deimos turned ashen.

Deimos: “I am NOT ticklish!”

He rasped.

Celeste: “I can prove otherwise.”

She put her hands up. Deimos gasped.

Deimos: “NO!”

He shrieked.

Tristan cleared his throat.

Tristan: “What did you want to ask, Celeste?”

Deimos breathed a sigh of relief.

Celeste: “Was there a Reonaquake today?”

The two quirked an eyebrow.

Tristan: “We don’t get those in this state.”

He said slowly.

Deimos: “I didn’t feel anything shake.”

Celeste nodded.

Celeste: “I was at Danny Donger’s and the restaurant shook for a bit.”

Tristan surveyed her expression. Why didn’t we feel anything? He wondered.

Deimos: “Did a car ram into it or did something explode in the kitchen?”

She shrugged.

Celeste: “Search me. I don’t know. Maxx let out a loud fuckin’ scream and the place shook.”

Tristan recalled Maxx’s screams affected himself, Deimos, and Celeste. But he never recalled anything shaking.

Deimos studied Celeste and recalled Ashley telling him and Tristan about Maxx and wondered if the dead Xupran in Maxx’s old room had a connection to that. He cupped his chin. Tristan flicked his gaze onto Deimos and knew when he was deep in thought.

Tristan: “Do you think Maxx’s scream caused the place to shake?”

Deimos: “I don’t know what to think and if we questioned Ashley or Blake, I don’t think they could tell us anything more than we already know since both stick to whatever beliefs were hammered into them from a young age.”

He explained.

Tristan: “It’s strange neither knew what a Xupran was. I know they were cut off from the rest of the world but how cut off? It’s as if they are not from this world.”

He added.

Celeste: “Yeah, they seem pretty tight-lipped about this ‘Sunshire’.”

She said as her voice trailed off.

~

The following day in the evening, there were a few people at Danny Donger’s. Not many people and it was less busy than usual. Jaxon entered the restaurant and the host greeted him and led him to a table. Jaxon flipped open the menu. He flicked his eyes on someone entering the establishment. Tristan entered the restaurant; he wore a black double-breasted peacoat with a blue scarf wrapped around his neck and tucked in, black dress pants, and black wingtip Oxfords. Jaxon eyed him with intrigue with a glint in his eye.

Tristan went to the counter to place an order for food and no one was there to serve him. He twisted his mouth and paced around. He scanned the restaurant and spotted Jaxon. He recognized him from the Steel Axe music videos and their debut album. The album depicted a painting of a mad Queen with large breasts swinging an axe that read “Steel Axe” on it, cutting off a man’s head with his blood splattering to read the album title “Off With their metalheads.” The man had orange tan skin and a bright yellow mullet.

Tristan never met a famous rockstar before and this was a first for him. Should he approach his table and introduce himself? He mused. He didn’t want to appear foolish. He noticed he was staring at him. Should I wander up? He wondered. Jaxon smiled at him and waved his finger at him to come over. Tristan’s eyes grew large, alarmed. He pointed to himself and mouthed, “Me?” Jaxon nodded and mouthed “Yes, you.”

Tristan pursed his lips and approached his table.

Tristan: “H-Hello! How are you? I recognized you from your music videos and your album you bought! I love your music! You’re very talented!”

He stammered, feeling awkward.

Tristan: “My favorite track from your latest is ‘Death to Poseurs!’ I love them all, though!”

He raved. Jaxon smiled at him.

Jaxon: “Aww, aren't you fucking cute? No need to be shy!”

He beamed. Tristan’s face turned a deep shade of red. Imagine being told you’re cute by a famous rockstar, he thought.

Tristan: “Oh, I’m terribly sorry, sir!”

He waved his hands around.

Tristan: “Th-Thank you! I’m Tristan… Tristan Trémaux.”

He blurted. Jaxon smiled at him.

Jaxon: “Relax, no need to be so formal.”

He encouraged him to breathe. Tristan nodded and took a deep breath. Tristan felt hot from his anxiety rising. He untied his scarf and opened up his jacket showing an Italian-cut suit underneath with a blue pressed shirt, and a dark blue tie.

Jaxon: “I'm Axion Jaxon, but you already know that.”

He nodded. Tristan’s smile spread to show his teeth.

Tristan: “Of course, I do. I love your music!”

He said ecstatically. Jaxon smiled widely at him and leaned over to get closer.

Jaxon: “Say… how would you like to come on tour with us, Tristan?”

He offered. Tristan raised his eyebrows.

Tristan: “Oh, I don’t play any instruments and my singing is terrible.”

He blurted followed by a laugh.

Tristan: “However, I do plan on purchasing tickets to see you and Tortugazm perform!”

He nodded. Jaxon chuckled and waved his hand.

Jaxon: “Oh no, I didn't mean to play music with us, but hang out while we're on the road and keep us company. It gets lonely out there, so we like to have folks like you join us.”

He stated. Tristan paused and surveyed him.

Tristan: “I see. I’m sorry but I will have to decline. I can’t leave Deimos and my job behind.”

He said earnestly. Jaxon’s expression shifted when he mentioned this Deimos, who he deduced was his partner.

Jaxon: “Aw, that's too bad. You have a great night, Tristan.”

He said genially. Tristan curtly nodded.

Tristan: “You too, Jaxon. Keep up the great work.”

He said earnestly and went to the bar, where he saw a server. He went up to place an order to go.

~

Fabien arrived at the restaurant to clock in for his shift. He wore his Danny Donger’s uniform and buckled his server pouch around his hips. He shot Tristan a glare when he saw him picking up an order to go.

Fabien: “You’re going to need more food for that fat bitch at home.”

He snapped. Tristan swung his gaze to Fabien and raised an eyebrow.

Tristan: “Whom do you speak of, Fabien? This is for Deimos, Celeste, and me. I would have gotten for Deimos and me but you know Celeste steals snacks.”

He replied. Fabien shot him an ice glare.

Fabien: “Good! Don’t get a damn thing for Craig’s fatass sister! They’re BOTH leeches!”

Tristan scrutinized his demeanor and took mental notes of Fabien’s hostility toward Craig.

Fabien got his notepad from his pouch and went to Jaxon’s table. He raised his eyebrows astonishingly.

Fabien: “Oh, hello, you’re back!”

He smiled a bit.

Jaxon: “Just the guy I wanted to see.”

He smirked. Fabien’s smile widened.

Fabien: “Is that so?”

He brushed his hair behind his ear.

Jaxon: “Oh yes.”

He bit his lip and eyed him in his uniform. Fabien bit his bottom lip.

Fabien: “Can I get you anything to eat or drink?”

He asked softly.

Jaxon: “No, today, I will be the one serving you.”

He beamed at him, presenting him with a VIP pass for the Torturgazm tour. Fabien’s eyes lit up. He pulled out a seat and sat with him.

Fabien: “Oh my God, you were serious?”

He gasped and cupped his mouth.

Fabien: “Good music and a backstage pass? Count me in.”

He smiled widely at him and rubbed his leg on Jaxon’s. Jaxon grinned widely at him and put his arm around him.

Jaxon: “Good company backstage? Count me in.”

He quipped. Fabien locked his half-lidded gaze on him.

Fabien: “I gotta ask… Anything kinky going on backstage?”

He purred and rubbed his foot on his leg. Jaxon chuckled.

Jaxon: “I wouldn’t want to ruin the surprise.”

He purred and placed his hand on his lap. Fabien shivered to his touch.

Fabien: “Well, I don’t like to be bound by anything… except in the bedroom.”

He winked. Jaxon chuckled.

Jaxon: “Ohh, my kind of guy.”

He winked and lightly tickled the palm of Fabien’s hand. Fabien let out a peal of giggles and scratched his hand. He cleared his throat.

Fabien: “So when does this… ‘backstage tour’ begin?”

He asked softly and placed Jaxon’s hand between his thighs.

Jaxon: “Whenever you want it to, baby.”

He winked at him, rubbing his thigh.

Fabien: “I didn’t bring my car…”

He whispered in his ear and caressed his chest.

Jaxon: “That’s okay, we can take mine.”

He whispered back.

Fabien: “I’d like that… That way, certain people won’t find me.”

He said bitterly.

Fabien: “But I didn’t bring it because I was going to have a drink.”

He admitted.

Jaxon: “Certain people like that bogan loser, huh? Forget him. Have a drink on me!”

He held his glass up. Fabien smiled, but his smile faded when he recalled getting a waft of foot stink when he came home.

Fabien: “Yeah… Him. He lives with me now.”

He sighed. Jaxon looked at him with sympathy.

Jaxon: “You poor soul. Why don’t you ditch that zero and come be a hero on tour with me?”

He smiled at him. Fabien brightened a bit.

Fabien: “I’d love that…”

He purred and threaded his fingers through his hair. Jaxon smiled at Fabien, placing his hand on his knee.

Jaxon: “So, come with me…”

He whispered in his ear. Fabien shivered to whisper and smirked.

Fabien: “Let me tell Gary I have to go home. Gary Owens is my boss, by the way. I’m not well…”

He winked and kissed him before he rose to go out back. Jaxon winked back at him and kissed him back.

Jaxon: “I can make you better.”

He purred and waited for him.

When Gary Owens came out, a slew of other Danny Donger’s waiters came out to surround Jaxon. There were many men of different ethnicities, including the slim Asian man with feathered turquoise and blue ombre hair. Fabien was amongst the waiters.

Gary Owens: “Axion Jaxon? If I agree to let Fabien go tonight, would you give me the honors of taking a photograph to cherish this moment?”

He asked and bowed. There was a peal of laughter amongst the servers. The patrons cheered and encouraged him. Gary nodded to the wall of photographs of the servers taken with celebrities who visited over the years. Jaxon beamed brightly.

Jaxon: “I'd be delighted.”

He put his arm around Fabien and posed for the photo. Fabien shivered to his touch. The Asian man smiled up at Jaxon and leaned in on him. Jaxon posed with the men with a wide grin across his face. Gary snapped a picture.

Then they heard a wail. They turned around to see Maxx stomping his feet and crying. He sank to the floor, pounding it and sobbed. Anthony stood over him shaking his head.

Maxx: “NAH-AH! DAT’S NOT FAAAAAAAAAAAAAAIR! SEX BEEST IS MEGA FAMOUS! WHERE’S MY PICTURE?!”

He cried.

Anthony: “You want your picture taken with men?”

He challenged. Maxx angrily pounded the floor.

Maxx: “NAH-AH! Dat’s gay, Tones! I don’t wanna dat poser and liar to get dat picture! Sex Beest is MORE FAMOUS!”

He bawled.

Anthony: “Maxx, you’ve been living with me for months and haven’t made ONE attempt to make an album!”

He snapped.

Maxx: “NAH-AH! I have! It’s Fatley’s fault you’re not making my album!”

He whined. Anthony drew a long breath.

Anthony: “Everything is ‘Fatley’s’ fault.”

He muttered dryly. Jaxon scoffed at Maxx.

Jaxon: “No one wants their picture taken with an ugly clown.”

Maxx: “NAH-AH! SHUT UP, LOSER! I THINK YOU MEAN SEXY!”

He cried.

Anthony: “We’re going home, Maxx. I’m not having another round of you farting around.”

He grabbed his arm and pulled him away as Maxx whined and kicked his pointy boots.

Fabien cupped his mouth. Craig would have loved to see this, he thought. Then he grimaced that he thought of Craig. Jaxon headed for the door and opened it.

Jaxon: “So, are you coming?”

He gestured for him to follow.

Fabien: “Yes, of course.”

He smiled and dashed up to the door, leaving the restaurant.

He went outside and embraced himself.

Fabien: “Where is your car?”

Jaxon walked him over to a red 1985 Toyota Celica GTS convertible.

Jaxon: “Right here.”

He unlocked it and opened the passenger-side door for him to get in. Fabien beamed and strolled up sitting down in the passenger’s side.

Fabien: “Thank you…”

Jaxon got in the driver’s seat and revved up the engine.

Jaxon: “Ready for a wild ride, Fabien?”

He purred. Fabien leaned on him and placed his hand on his chest, gliding it down to his torso.

Fabien: “You bet…”

He said softly. Jaxon backed out of the parking lot and floored the accelerator down the street.

~

As he drove down the street, the wind blew through Fabien’s hair. He loved it. Fabien reached into his server pouch, withdrew a package of cigarettes, and pressed in the cigarette lighter receptacle. When it popped out, he used that to light his cigarette and inhaled a huge drag, blowing smoke out.

Jaxon made a turn into Quffolwed Garden to the Noble Monarch Hotel. It was a five-star gated hotel that resembled a castle. It has white stone walls and blue clay tile roofs. Ornate windows lined up across the hotel. The hotel had a manicured lawn with a marble stone pathway leading to a circular in-ground water fountain with spouts of water surrounding a statue of a woman with a cloth draped over her. Surrounding the hotel was a luscious garden with many colorful flowers, notably lavenders.

Jaxon drove down the marble stone driveway and up to the entry where the circular stairs led to a French door. A valet exited out of the entryway to greet Jaxon. He was a teenage white boy and wore a red bellhop uniform. Jaxon flicked him a quarter and smiled at him as he entered the hotel with his arm draped around Fabien with pride. Fabien nestled into Jaxon. The teenager scowled at the tip and drew a long breath. Fabien didn’t know how he felt about him tipping that guy so low but he didn’t want to start an argument. He wanted to forget about Craig.

As they entered the hotel, a spacious lobby with deep red tapestries hung from the ceiling with gold marble floors. Crystal chandeliers hung from the ceiling and there was a large antique analog clock on the wall across the room. There were pale yellow plush chairs with glass coffee tables placed around the lobby. Behind the chairs were glass tables with mirror surfaces with tiffany lamps on them.

There were entryways for the hotel restaurant, the spa, the pool, the exercise room, the cigar lounge, and a gift shop.

Celeste was at the receptionist.

Celeste: “I want to buy a spa package but I don’t want your spa people to touch my boys! I want to give them the ‘Celeste Treatment’! I will massage their feet, tickle them, and make them feel like kings! I want to book Fabien Bellegarde, Tristan Trémaux, and Victor Trémaux! I think I might need some scrubbing deodorizer for Victor! His feet can smell a bit sweaty! They’re not Craig stinky and definitely not Jaclyn stinky! Jaclyn’s feet could peel paint! Fabien and Tristan don’t need it, though! Their feet never stink! Neither do mine but this is a Celeste treatment!”

She rambled on to the receptionist who looked like he heard enough.

Receptionist: “Ma’am, we don’t do that. If you want to give them the treatment, do it at home or have our pedicurists—”

She pouted.

Celeste: “No one touches them but ME and the designated people I allowed, which are Deimos, Craig, and Makayla.”

She huffed. The receptionist threw his arms up.

Something caught Celeste’s eye. She saw Fabien and was going to bring him over to convince the receptionist to allow the Celeste Treatment in the spa but she saw him with another man. Who is that?! She wondered. Does Craig know? She mused. I don’t think so, she thought and finally left the lobby.

Jaxon and Fabien strolled by the hotel’s restaurant. It was a large spacious dining area with a dome glass ceiling. Ornate windows are scattered generously around the gray and gold marble walls in seemingly perfect symmetry. The oak dining room tables had fine white linen over them and had four hand-carved squiggle wooden baroque chairs with curved-in legs and red white and gold fabric upholstered seats and backrests. There was fine silverware and cutlery on the table with a handkerchief folded neatly in each wine glass. At the end of the dining room was the bar where the bottles of liqueurs were kept on the oak shelf and various drinking glasses hung from the rack overhead.

Jaxon noticed Tristan sitting inside there across from a corpulent white man in his fifties or sixties. He wore a brown English-cut suit, had his salt and pepper hair swept to the right and had an imperial moustache. He sipped on a cup of tea while Tristan lifted a glass of red wine to drink.

Jaxon couldn’t help but to stare at the peculiar sight, wondering to himself what a hottie like that was doing with an old kook like that. He hadn’t pegged him for a golddigger, he thought to himself.

A young white man wearing a white tuxedo shirt with a black bow tie, black pants, and black shiny shoes came with a tray. He handed several dishes to the portly man, which was a forty five ounce porterhouse steak, deep fried mushrooms, a baked potato, a cheese board, and a garlic loaf. He handed Tristan a plate with a sixteen ounce bone-in ribeye steak and fried mushrooms and brussel sprouts. Tristan and the other man raised their glasses and they touched them.

Jaxon recoiled in disgust wondering how he could have turned him down for some fat, old slob and if this was the Deimos he spoke of.

Fabien was ahead of him and smiled at Jaxon.

Fabien: “Coming?”

He batted his eyelids.

Jaxon: “Yes please.”

He teased and led him into the elevator. The two got in and Jaxon pressed the button for the twelfth floor. He led him to room 690 and swiped the keycard. He stepped aside to let Fabien in.

The room had a king size bed with a view of the luscious gardens, a kitchen and dining room, a big screen tv, a luxury walk-in shower with quality bath products and amenities, extra plush towels and robes, and a coffee machine. Jaxon flopped down onto the bed.

Jaxon: “Make yourself comfortable.”

He patted down beside him on the bed. Fabien unbuckled his server pouch and set it on the table. He untied his shoes, slid out of them and slipped his socks off. He climbed onto the bed with Jaxon. He rubbed his feet on his legs.

Fabien: “You know…”

He began.

Fabien: “I love being tickled.”

He declared and bit his bottom lip.

Jaxon: “Ohh, you’re a foot guy, huh?”

He teased. Fabien nodded and raised his foot. He wiggled his toes.

Fabien: “Can’t you tell?”

He teased him.

Jaxon: “Does that mean you like it when I do this?”

He teased, stroking his hand down his foot. Fabien shrieked and let out a peal of laughs.

Fabien: “HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA! YEHEHEHEHEHES!”

He laughed and tightly curled his toes.

Jaxon: “And what about this?”

He teased, trickling his fingertips down his soles. Fabien howled with laughter, loving this.

Fabien: “HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!! YEHEHEHEHEHEHEHEHEHES!”

He thrashed around and laughed hard. Jaxon smirked at him and stopped for a bit.

Jaxon: “Where else do you like being tickled?”

He asked. Fabien laughed and wiped the tears from his eyes.

Fabien: “My tummy and behind my knees.”

He blurted.

Jaxon smirked and tickled Fabien’s tummy. Fabien shrieked with laughter and howled when Jaxon dug his finger into his belly button and wiggled it.

Fabien: “WAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!”

Jaxon trailed his hands down Fabien’s torso, hips and legs, and tickled behind his knees. Fabien arched his back and laughed hard.

Fabien: “WAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA! OHOHOHOHOHO GOHOHOHOHOD!”

He laughed hard and writhed around, loving this. Jaxon snaked his arm around Fabien’s ankles and vigorously tickled his soft soles and toes. Fabien caterwauled with laughter and ecstasy.

Fabien: “WAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA JAHAHAHAHAAHAHAHAXOHOHOHOHOHON!! HEHEHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!”

Tears streaked down his beet red face as he gasped for air between laughing, and finding it hard to breathe.

The laughter and tickling were overwhelming him. He trembled all over and passed out. Jaxon stopped when he stopped hearing the laughter.

Jaxon: “Fabien?”

He called his name and looked at him to see him passed out in bed from the intense tickling he gave him.

~

Jaxon slipped out of bed and quietly got dressed, throwing on his jeans, cowboy boots and tank top. He closed the door behind him and headed back down into the lobby area to find Tristan. He looked through the restaurant and couldn’t find him. He heard soft jazz music coming from the lounge bar across the restaurant, and saw Tristan’s fluff of white hair in the window. He saw the same corpulent man with him. Tristan got a cigarette out of his golden case and leaned over as the man lit his cigarette for him.

Jaxon: “I’m getting to the bottom of this!”

He huffed and marched into the lounge bar, approaching Tristan and what appeared to be his “date.” Tristan raised his eyebrows and inhaled his cigarette to see Jaxon.

Tristan: “Oh, hello again! Fancy meeting you here.”

He chuckled.

Jaxon: “Fancy seeing you here, too.”

He flashed him a smile and turned to the corpulent man with him, his expression dampening.

Jaxon: “With Deimos.”

He twisted his mouth at the man, looking unimpressed. Tristan’s smile faded as he noted Jaxon scowling at the fat man.

Tristan: “...Why do you ask?”

Jaxon: “Really? Look at him and look at you.”

He gestured to their reflections in the mirror. The man’s jaw dropped.

Man: “Dear me, the cheek of today’s youth!”

He said in a gruff voice with a British accent.

Jaxon: “Aren’t you too old for today’s youth?”

He countered.

Man: “Dear me!”

He gasped.

Tristan cleared his throat.

Tristan: “What is this about, Jaxon? Do you have a problem with my date?”

He asked sharply. The man flushed. I wouldn’t mind dating Tristan, he thought. Jaxon laughed bitterly.

Jaxon: “Yeah, I do, that you blew off a rockstar like me for the likes of him.”

He cried and pointed at the fat man. The man gasped.

Man: “Good heavens! The cheek of today’s youth, my dear boy!”

Tristan glared at him.

Tristan: “So what if I did? Do you expect me to cheat on my lover with you?”

He asked sharply.

Jaxon: “Yes.”

He gaped at him. Tristan folded his hands and leaned in.

Tristan: “Fascinating. What do you have to offer me that Deimos doesn’t have?”

He asked in a low voice. Jaxon gaped at him and laughed.

Jaxon: “Are you kidding me?! Look at him. He’s fat and old!”

He gestured to the man.

Man: “Well, I think I please my man quite well in bed!”

He blurted. Tristan wanted to scowl at his client but held off. Jaxon recoiled with disgust.

Tristan: “So what? How does this affect you?”

He challenged.

Tristan: “Because I dare not leave my partner to have sex with you while you’re on tour, is that it?”

He added for good measure. Jaxon huffed.

Jaxon: “Whatever, that’s your loss. I can have anyone I want and I have a sexy man by my side.”

He gloated. Tristan’s shoulders shook and he laughed.

Tristan: “Well? Good for you then! Why are you here getting angry with my partner and insulting him?”

He asked wryly.

Jaxon: “Because it doesn’t make any damn sense.”

He threw his arms up and stormed off. Tristan and the man watched him leave. Tristan smirked. Checkmate, he thought. He flicked his gaze to the bartender taking pictures.

The man cleared his throat.

Man: “My apologies, Tristan. Why didn’t you correct the cheeky young lad?”

Tristan: “Because if I did, I wouldn’t expose him, Mr. Henderson. Now his true colors shine. He is no better than the very person he criticizes.”

He replied evenly.

Jasper: “Call me Jasper. Say, if you want to spend an evening in this hotel to make it more authentic—”

Tristan locked an ice-cold glare on him and Jasper drew back.

Jasper: “S-Sorry, sir.”

He said meekly.