Junkfood Noir

Chapter 3: “In Hollywood, Everyone Can Hear You Scream”

The city spread out beneath him like a sea of Christmas lights. Hollywood. Babylonia.

Gamble couldn’t believe almost a year had passed since he’d stepped off that shitty Greyhound bus from that shitty little nowhere town and checked himself into that shitty hotel on Hollywood Blvd. His arrival didn’t improve his life but holy fuck, it was Hollywood. That had to count for something, he kept telling himself.

“It’s the view you’re paying for.” That came from David, who was stepping onto the back porch with two Jack and cokes in his hands. “At least that’s what the realtor insisted when I bought this place.”

David Michael James.

Aka Dick Johnson, the visionary director behind such recent classics as the CUM FARTING GUTTER SLUTS series and the 35mm epic GRETCHEN GETS A GANGBANG.

He and David had met, at some party or another, over a few lines of blow when the man offered him $100 to take him in the bathroom and suck him off.

“I’m not gay,” Gamble had told him.

“Neither am I,” the older man winked.

David doubled, then tripled his offer. Gamble, in desperate need of cash, relented.

6 and one half minutes later, as he washed the act from his mouth, David scratched his number on a piece of toilet paper and told him to call sometime.

So he did.

“Truth be told, the daytime view is nothing but haze and the smell of shit. But the nights, man. The nights up here in the hills are like overlooking your own kingdom.” David slid one of the tumblers towards Gamble, who chugged the drink down in one long gulp.

“Strong enough?”

“Skip the soda next time,” Gamble said, eyes still transfixed on the twinkling lights below.