Big-ass Bob Poundmax got married, and the five-tier cake was an ode to diabetes.
Harry’s old lady, Shere, designed the thing for her best friend’s reception, and was busy showing it off when Bunji got there. It wasn’t her wedding, but this bitch loved being the center of attention.
Bunji thrust his hands into his pockets and found a quiet corner to deal with the tuxedo that Walken made him wear. When the bride and groom appeared, Bunji removed the unlit cigarette from his mouth and bowed to the bride, just like Harry showed him.
Shere tapped her glass, “One last picture before we cut the cake!”
Bunji dodged the bitches rushing the room and fell in behind Walken.
“Kugashira,” he said under his breath. “Your bowtie is upside down.”
Bunji peered over the rim of his sunglasses and spotted the uneven variation in size from the top. Lucky for him it was a clip-on; an unsnap and turn-over fixed the problem.
“Where’s the best man?” Shere griped. “Harry please go get Lee and tell him we need him for one last picture.”
“Why don’t leave him alone Shere,” Harry said.
“Harry,” Shere said. “Go get him please,”
Walken knew his daughter wasn’t going to let it go.
“Go get Lee,” he said, tapping Bunji’s shoulder. “He’s in the bar,”
Bunji realized that with Heat gone, the pecking order ended with him. He eventually found the tall bastard in the bar, and he stood out for being the only one in there with a single braid down the length of his back.
The bartender shot Bunji an anxious glance. In front of Lee on the bar were four empty bottles of beer, three empty martini glasses, and five spent shot glasses. Bunji tapped the smooth satin on Lee’s shoulder, forcing the lanky bastard to turn around.
“Don’t you touch me,” Lee glared down with that sharp angular face. “Flea-bitten little plebe,”
A couple of Bunji’s Kugashira-gumi stopped socializing to watch Bunji react.
“Kugashira, you little scumbag,” Lee’s body wavered. “You make me want to vomit,”
Lee nearly fell until Walked stepped up and caught his arm. Lee yanked his arm free, but when his body bent at the knees, Walken caught him again. Lee pushed the old man away, growling.
Walked stepped into him and whispered, “You’re going walk with Kugashira out to the reception room for one final picture with the wedding party,”
“You don’t scare me, Walken,” Lee slurred. “All you need is a feather cap and crush velvet suit, and you’ll resemble the pimp you are!”
Now it was Bunji’s turn to watch for a reaction, but the silver-haired old man did nothing.
“We’re all just deluding ourselves,” Lee’s speech ran together. “Going through life with blinders on because it’s easy,”
Lee’s legs then folded, and his body fell into Walken on its way to the floor.
“Kugashira,” the old man growled. “Take this home,”
Bunji motioned to one of his men.
“No, Kugashira!” Walken snapped. “You take him home!”
Bunji cuffed the back of his neck, frustrated.
Speeding over the South Avenue Bridge, Bunji took the exit to Balkon-town.
Lee stirred, “Where am I?”
“You’re in hell with me,” Bunji tossed his spent smoke.
“It’s where I belong,” he whispered.
“Is that right?” said Bunji.
“I had plans,” he whined.
“Plans with the big guy?” Bunji asked.
“Hell no,” his head swung lazily on the headrest. “MacDowell’s no man to make a future with,”
Bunji now protected Harry after the big guy took control of Millenion. Walken joined the board to help him, disbanding his Overkill's after Heat betrayed Harry and the Graves. Bunji swept for old Walken, while Balladbird Lee remained Harry’s clandestine administrator, rarely seen until Harry wanted you dead.
“Everything I did,” Lee slurred.
Bunji asked, “What’d you do?”
“I told him Heat would never betray us,” his head dropped and hit the window with a thud. “I told him,”
Bunji kept his eyes on the road; what shit was Lee talking about Brandon Heat? He slowed out front of Lee’s building and fought the urge to just open the door and let the lanky bastard fall out onto the street.
A young valet appeared with his hand out for the keys.
“You fuck my ride up, I fuck you up,” Bunji warned.
The young man nodded as Bunji walked to the passenger side. Yanking Lee out by his hair, Bunji hoisted the long bastard over his shoulder and labored to carry him to the elevator.
At Lee’s penthouse floor, Bunji slid the key card Walken gave him into the slot. When the lock popped, Bunji kicked open the door and dropped Lee onto the foyer tiles. Closing the door behind him, he stepped over Lee’s sleeping body and ventured into the kitchen.
Balladbird lived a good life. A large plasma screen television hung in the living room, and there was imported beer in the fridge; elegant bitch even owned a fantastic view of the bridge to the valley.
Beer in hand, Bunji entered the bedroom. The décor was typical Balkon bullshit; rice paper lampshades, sandy pastels, and thick bamboo in big corner pots. In the center of the room was a large round bed with white netting draped around it. The thick satin comforter was purple, just what Bunji expected from a guy who got his body waxed once a week.
In the far corner was a squared wood-plank floor with a washing stool and a bucket, and beside it sat a square soaking tub; he forgot how close Lee’s culture was to his own.
Back in the living room, Bunji flopped onto the large sectional and with remote in hand, channel-surfed until he found a show he liked. Two beers later and he remembered Lee still in a heap by the front door.
“I guess you’re out of commission, elegant,” he belched and took a long stretch before mustering the energy to collect Lee. He dragged the unconscious man by his braid to the bedroom and with hands under Lee’s armpits, chucked him sloppily onto the bed. When he began pulling Lee’s shoe off, he cried, “What the fuck am I doing this shit for?”
Lee mumbled, “Sorry Heat,”
Bunji peered through the netting and hearing nothing more, his mind turned foul. Lee was nothing more than an elaborately dressed doll with ink-black hair and a full-body tan. Arms askew and legs spread wide, the Balkon seemed dead until his snoring started.
“You’re wrong, Heat jus’ cares—the old man,” Lee’s voice drifted. “Doesn’t mean he’s agains—you,”
Bunji pushed the mesh aside and join Lee on the bed, “He betrayed us,”
“Um—no,” Lee shook his head.
Bunji waited, but Lee said nothing more. Shaking his head, Bunji removed Lee’s suit coat, careful to avoid getting poked by the senbons tucked inside the sleeves. Tossing it aside, he unbuttoned Lee’s shirt and was caught by the dark little nubs on the man’s broad muscular chest. Excited, Bunji tore off his own tuxedo jacket and yanking his shirt over his shoulders, exposed his body-wide tattoo's to no one.
He pulled Lee up by his arms and pressed his chest to Lee's. The pony-tailed man's weary head dipped down, treating Bunji to the aroma of his shampoo. Released, he fell back and Bunji moved over him like a crab. He brought his face close enough to feel Lee's breath on his lips.
“BALLADBIRD!!” he screamed.
Lee didn’t flinch, but Bunji’s cock did. He thought again of that expensive Balkon sex doll from the porn store. The thin lips around its gaping mouth were just like Lee’s, along with those line-thin eyes. A layer of sweat blanketed Bunji’s skin; his lifeless doll was right here.
Bunji ran the back of his hand over Lee’s ribcage and rested his palm flat against Lee’s chest. Fingers pinched a dark nipple, making it harden. He rolled its erect tip slowly, and when he pulled it upward, Lee’s hip jerked.
“You’re like a bitch cat in heat,” Bunji got comfortable on his doll. Hands toyed with Lee’s tits, enjoying those hips as they pumped beneath him. He grasped Lee’s chin and squeezed his fingers into Lee’s cheeks, puckering his lips. Bunji kissed Lee hard, lashing at Lee’s teeth with his tongue and invading his gums.
If Lee woke, Bunji was dead.
“You got me so hard, elegant,” he moved his crotch to Lee’s lips. “That’s right you fucking whore, beg me for my meat, beg for it!”
Bunji pulled wildly at the snap on his pants. Packed with blood, his erection bounced out and struck Lee in the face with enough force to startle even Bunji. A devious smile spread across his lips. He rubbed his cock against Lee’s sleeping face, streaking his flawless cheeks with pre-cum.
“You fuck face whore,” he slapped himself against Lee’s eyelids. “Show me some respect you fuck!” and with a flick of his wrist he forced it past Lee’s lips. Bunji settled into a spot where Lee’s wisdom teeth should’ve been and relished the soft slick flesh against his slit.
“Ah-that’s right,” he gasped, pushing into the groove of Lee’s cheek. “Kiss it bitch-suck that shit up-yeah, yeah you’re Bunji’s cock slut,” he pushed down on Lee’s forehead and then stood up on his toes. One thrust was enough to impale Lee’s mouth, and he did it, over and over. “Take it, bitch, take it!” he pulled out and rested back on his heels. “Real elegant , huh? Beg me to fuck your face!” Straddling his neck, Bunji grabbed Lee’s ears and pushed his arousal fully past Lee’s lips and into his gullet.
Lee’s throat convulsed and a warm thick fluid rushed over Bunji’s cock.
“That's real elegant, bitch,” Bunji pulled out as acidy vomit rolled down Lee’s chin. He slapped Lee hard across the face, “You got puke on my cock!” Unable to stop, Bunji began masturbating, his slit pressed hard against Lee’s cheek. “I got something to clean that shit up!” Bunji was about to blow, “Pretty bitch, not so high up now are ya?” he cried out as pleasure strangled his muscles. Cock-head against Lee’s cheek, he rubbed the sensitive skin under it until he shot a perfect white line between Lee’s flaccid lips.
“Lick it up,” Bunji smeared the rest of his spurt around, anointing Lee's eyes, nose, and cheeks. “Lick my nut up you fucking whore!”
Spent, Bunji fell back, panting. Outside the netting, he shoved his shriveled cock into his pants and zipped up. He took a moment to admire his work; Lee was splayed lewdly across the bed, shirt open, pants undone, one shoe missing, and his face smeared with Bunji’s rage.
Bunji arrived to Monday’s meeting late.
Throughout the tedious sit-down, he stole glances at Lee from behind his sunglasses. He watched the way Lee spoke and where he looked when talked. Typical Lee paid Bunji no mind. Elegant fucker just sifted through paperwork and gave Harry details on how Jack Bisco was shooting off his mouth about shit.
“He’s just venting,” Walken said from his position beside Harry.
“None-the-less,” Lee said. “When Bob returns we should have Bisco watched.”
“I agree,” Harry said.
You always agree with Lee, thought Bunji.
“What was that Bunji?” Walked asked.
“I said,” Bunji spoke up. “If he’s a problem then just kill him.”
Walken chuckled, “We’re not animals,”
“Don’t worry, Bunji,” Harry grinned. “If Bisco makes the move I think he will, you’ll get your chance.”
“I hope you’re wrong,” Walked added.
“Me, too,” Harry turned to Lee, “You and Bob keep an eye on his boys.”
“Bob can manage without me,” Lee said, closing his folder.
“All right,” Harry’s eyes lingered, unaccustomed to being dismissed.
In past meetings, Lee listened carefully when Harry spoke, but today Lee was only eighty-percent in the room. Bunji wondered if he might be the reason, but Lee hadn’t given him a second glance—the prissy fuck knew someone smeared his face, but he probably didn’t know it was Bunji. The meeting released without incident, and while Harry and Walken remained behind whispering, Lee followed Bunji out.
At the elevator, Bunji pressed the down arrow but kept his eyes trained on Lee.
“Hiya B,” the chunky red-head, Abigail, smiled. “Are we going to Tots for lunch?”
“I’ll drive,” Lee said, then heaved a sigh. “Oh shit, I forgot something,”
Lee strode casually to the elevator, and when Bunji turned to confront him, Lee landed a quick jab to Bunji’s gut. Brought to his knees, Bunji was paralyzed and unable to inhale. He tasted blood in his mouth, sure that Lee’s fist punched through his abs and out his back.
The heady scent of sandalwood found his nose.
“Don’t think that stunt you pulled on my face escaped my attention,” Lee’s breath tickled Bunji’s ear. “I had it coming after what I said to you at the wedding, but you didn't stick and let me properly thank you for it.”
“You’re welcome,” Bunji wheezed, still holding his guts.
“You pull that shit on me again, Kugashira,” the corners of Lee’s mouth curved, creating dimples in his cheeks. “And I’ll stick a pin through your dick and add you to my butterfly collection. Understand?”
“Yes,” Bunji gasped.
Lee sauntered back to Abigail.
“Is Mister Kugashira okay?” she asked.
“Kugashira’s got a cramp,” Lee said. “He’ll be fine once he goes to the toilet.”