Okay, so I bet you're all wondering what the fuck I'm doing here. Harry, you ask, you made the movie five years ago why the fuck are you talking about it now?
Well, the thing is is that they wanted to do a special five year anniversary edition box set, which Christ, I didn't make a fucking penny off of, but, hell apparently we have fans.
I never expected to have fans. The shit life throws you when you go from being a petty criminal stealing Xboxes to being recognized at LA parties. Which is the first circle of hell, means you can't get rid of them by telling 'em you invented the disposable razor or some shit like that.
Okay, I lied, I made a little bit off it but not as much as Gay Perry. He's the one, who, you know, had the smarts to get the really good contract.
Contract lawyers are fucking vultures.
Anyway, I'm still working with Perry and Harmony, surprisingly, has an acting career now. Turns out, that Kiss, Kiss, Bang, Bang actually did pretty good. Even in the Midwest, apparently they aren't as offended by swearing as I thought they were.
No one was more shocked about that than I was. Weird as fuck to get stopped by some fucking tourist from Iowa wanting my autograph. Anyway, this story isn't about that.
You've also probably heard by now that me and Perry are together. Yeah, it's true and this story, my friends, is how it happened.
"What?" I said and stared at Perry.
"Look, the client suspects that his boyfriend is cheating on him. I'd do it, but you look a lot like his boyfriend and..." He trailed off.
"Everyone and their fucking mother knows that you're gay?" I asked, not wanting to think about how many men he'd brought home. The 75 bucks I spent on a pair of ear plugs was a damn good investment.
See, the thing is that ever since my apartment had been destroyed in a shoot out and a small fire that had started when a bullet hit a gas line and ignited a dishtowel hanging on the oven door handle--the shoot out totally wasn't my fault by the way, how was I to know that an 80-year old woman was a drug kingpin and employed hit men and wasn't being bilked by a handyman like her son thought--I've been living with Perry.
"In all the fucking years I've been a private detective, I've never been in so many shootouts. How the fuck does this shit happen to you, oh wait, it's because you're a fucking moron," Perry had shouted at the top of his lungs.
"So," I asked, giving him my most brilliant smile, "can I live with you?"
He stared at me.
"Either that, or I camp on your front lawn."
"Jesus," he muttered under his breath, "I'm going to fucking regret this. Fine, you can live with me until you get a new place. On the couch, I'm not going to risk you fucking up my guest room. Again."
I coughed and tried not to think about the time I broke a bottle of Perry's very expensive whisky on his equally expensive silk coverlet.
And that is how I came to live with Perry, sleeping on his couch. Of course, he removed anything of value in the room and turned the guest room into a bedroom-cum-living room. Still, it was a damn comfortable couch and it probably cost more than I've made some years.
Wait, stop, I forgot to tell you about Harmony. Fuck, sorry about that. Five years later and I'm still a shit narrator.
She hit me with it when I opened the door to our apartment. She was curled up in a chair and biting her lip, "Harry, we need to talk."
"About what?" I asked, desperately trying to remember if I'd done anything seriously fucked up recently.
"I don't think this is going to work," she said and waved a hand when I opened my mouth, "I got an offer as a lead for a TV show."
"The thing is Harry, it's in Canada and I leave in a month. I'll be gone for over a year and," she paused, "you have more than a few priors on your record, including a couple felonies. I asked, they're not going to let you in long term."
Perry had pulled a few strings and gotten me my private investigator license, despite the priors I have in New York. There had been a short court case over the the people I killed in the movie and I had been found not guilty on the grounds of self-defense.
"I can still visit," I wheedled.
She sighed, "I haven't been happy for a while. I love you, but...you're not the one for me. I thought you were, but..."
I nodded "There's nothing I can do?"
She shook her head "There isn't, Harry. You can stay here until you find your own apartment. I've made up the guest room for you."
And that is how Harmony and me broke up. I ended up sleeping on her couch until she left for Canada since Perry had refused to co-sign a lease for me-- something about my being a walking disaster magnet.
Harmony went to Canada and I got her apartment. She wasn't pleased when I called her and told her that her apartment had been shot up and burned by a small fire.
"I LEAVE YOU ALONE IN MY APARTMENT FOR A MONTH AND THIS IS WHAT HAPPENS?"
"How was I supposed to know that a little old lady had a squad of trained hit men?" I said, fumbling for my lighter. I'd managed to save my cigarettes, thankfully, but the liquor cabinet was gone.
There was a thump at the other end of the line, "How big was the fire, Harry?"
"It started small, and then, well, spread to your neighbor's apartment. No one was hurt!"
"You are paying me back for every single fucking cent of my security deposit. And remember when I said not to worry about the rent?"
"Yeah?" I asked, wincing at the tone of her voice.
"You're paying the rent."
The thing about gay bars is that they're pretty much like every other kind of bar, except that the music sucks and everyone is better dressed. I had to clench my fists to stop myself from picking a few pockets and lifting a watch or two. Perry hadn't been happy the last time I'd lifted a pack of gum from the gas station and I'd been stuck reorganizing two years of Centron's files.
Fuck, I did it again. I'm sure you're asking yourselves, "Why is Harry at a gay bar? I thought he was straight." So did I,folks, so did I.
The client's boyfriend was there, just as Perry said he would be. He was already talking to another guy, leaning in real close like a dame would in a Johnny Gossamer novel.
I sidled up to the bar, ordered a Jack and Coke, downed it quickly and ordered another one.
I touched the mark's shoulder and he tuned towards me, his look of annoyance turning to one of lust, "Yes?"
Okay, so it was probably a bad idea to go into the bathroom with him and let him push me up against the wall of a stall and probably an even worse idea for me to grab his ass. By the time we pulled apart, I had forgotten about the fact that I was wired and was only stopped from going further by Perry stalking angrily into the bathroom and grabbing the back of my shirt.
Jake had gone a little white at that point, and I don't blame him, I've been on the receiving end of his moods more times than I care to remember.
I tried to slip away, but Perry, damn him, wasn't going to have any of that.
"You," he said, "are going home and staying there until I get back."
As I lay on my couch afterwards, waiting for Perry to get back from meeting with his client, I thought back to kissing Jake, feeling the weight of him pressing against me in the bathroom and the feel of his rough stubble against my lips. It hadn't been half-bad. Actually, it had been pretty damn good. Better than when Perry had kissed me, but he had sprung it on me and we were disposing of a body at the time. Not exactly the circumstances conducive to having a really great kiss.
The front door opened and slammed shut, crap, Perry was home and was probably not pleased about the gay bar incident.
"How does this shit happen to you Harry? Seriously, all you had to do was go in there, find the mark, get him to kiss you, catch it on the hidden camera and get out of there. But no, what do you do? You go and you fuck him. I...I...I just don't get it Harry. How do you do this? How do you fucking do this shit? Manage to screw up the simplest of tasks."
"Well," I said as I sat up on the couch, "um, I don't mean to. It just happens," I coughed and Perry stared at me again."
"I don't know why I put up with this and how the fuck did you survive on your own in New York?"
I stood and walked over to him, "I did just fine before I met you, really, I swear I did. Um, okay, there were a few more run-ins with the law."
Perry stared at me, "That's because you were a thief Harry. You stole things from people. Expensive things, things that I had to work very, very hard to get expunged from your record. That sort of thing, Harry."
Well, okay, yeah he did have a point but, but, but...yeah. And that's when I decided to kiss him. I read an article in Newsweek or some shit like that that kissing lowers blood pressure and heart rate and given how red Perry was and how tightly his fists were clenched, I was more than a little worried that he was going to pop a vein or something.
I got off the couch, pushed him against the nearest wall and kissed him.
I did get a little bit of tongue before he pushed me away, "I can't fucking believe I'm being the nice guy here," he muttered, "Harry," he said, "you're straight and drunk. You're under stress and God knows you haven't gotten laid since Harmony left."
"Except for tonight?" I asked. "Well, almost getting laid tonight," I clarified.
"I stopped you from doing a monumentally stupid thing," Perry said.
"What? Sleeping with another guy?"
"No, asshole, sleeping with the clients fucking *boyfriend*."
I looked him in the eye, "I guess I'm not as straight as I thought I was."
He stared at me some more and I had a feeling that if I didn't act again, and soon, we would be having this argument all night.
So I kissed him again and this time he kissed back and Christ, he was a good kisser. The hard line of his dick pressing against me gave me a damn good indication that Perry was more than a little interested in me.
When I pulled away for air, I said "I'll try not to fuck this up."
And that is how me and Perry got together, sorry for leaving out all the dirty bits, but some things are better left to the imagination. I can hear Perry coming down the stairs, so I had better end this now.
I do want to add one more thing before I sign off, it is true that Perry and me got married. He said it was for the tax write-offs, but deep down, I know that it's because he loves me.
"Harry, are you doing another one of those fucking DVD commentaries?"
“What does it sound like?” I asked.
"Turn off the camera, we've got a case. Protocop is trying to sue Harmony for having balcony railings that were too low."