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    Johnny Come Back
    Johnny Come Back
    Johnny Come Back
    Ebook78 pages35 minutes

    Johnny Come Back

    By Chambers Mars

    ()

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    About this ebook

    Meet Johnny; a con artist and loveable rogue. He’s twenty, bisexual, Parisian and a survivor. Johnny Come Back is the first story from a new series, The Life & Times of Johnny Santé, which will chart the rises and falls in a young man’s fortunes, loves and friendships.

    Johnny Come Back is the first story from a new series, The Life & Times of Johnny Santé, which will chart the rises and falls in a young man’s fortunes, loves and friendships.

    Johnny is a con artist, a rogue who you either love or hate, and regular superhero in his own way. He has ‘a man has to do what a man has to do’ attitude running through his veins. Twenty, bisexual, Parisian – born and bred in the 10th on Rue Bichat, Johnny is a survivor, promiscuous, frequently doped out or drunk – usually both, and is a huge fan of Joni Mitchell, turtles and Mahoran cooking.

    This story contains graphic descriptions of sexual encounters and frequent usage of bad language.

    I sincerely hope that you enjoy the story. Feedback is especially welcome, and I'm thrilled with the feedback I have received so far, thank you! I would be delighted to hear from you.

    Please visit my website for updates on the Johnny series, Zac Tremble Investigates series and other projects.

    Thank you!
    Chambers Mars
    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherXinXii
    Release dateMay 9, 2015
    ISBN9783959263054
    Johnny Come Back

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      Book preview

      Johnny Come Back - Chambers Mars

      Project

      Author’s Note

      Johnny Come Back is the first story from a new series, The Life & Times of Johnny Santé, which will chart the rises and falls in a young man’s fortunes, loves and friendships.

      Johnny is a con artist, a rogue who you either love or hate, and regular superhero in his own way. He has ‘a man has to do what a man has to do’ attitude running through his veins. Twenty, bisexual, Parisian – born and bred in the 10th on Rue Bichat, Johnny is a survivor, promiscuous, frequently doped out or drunk – usually both, and is a huge fan of Joni Mitchell, turtles and Mahoran cooking.

      This story contains graphic descriptions of sexual encounters and frequent usage of bad language.

      Chambers Mars

      December 2014

      Contact Information

      www.carterseagrove.weebly.com

      carterseagrove@outlook.com

      www.alpmortal.weebly.com

      www.chambersmars.weebly.com

      alpmortal@hotmail.com

      chambers.mars@gmail.com

      Chapter One – Gonzales

      Lucille! Lend me five can ya’?

      Johnny, honey; you ain’t paid me the money I borrowed you last week.

      C’mon, Lucille; Gonzales has a sure thing and I’m gonna pay you back; you know I will.

      No I don’t. You eaten?

      Some French fries.

      Jesus! What your mamma would have said.

      She’d have said a man’s gotta do what a man’s gotta do to survive in this jungle. Please, Lucille; I gotta get in on Gonzales’s action.

      Five and no more! Harry is after you; not paid your rent neither?

      I paid him ... most of it. Fuck, Lucille! I need a break; where I am gonna get me one?

      "New bar opened on B-S-G [1] – Lucky Larry’s. Be careful! Come by later for something to eat."

      You’s a diamond, Lucille ...

      I gotta get ahead. Gonzales said it was twenty minimum. I got fourteen euros and sixty-eight cents ... Harry’s gonna bust my nuts if I don’t pay him by the end of the night. Johnny, it’s time to razzle-dazzle!

      Presto; can I get a coke?

      If you got three-fifty ... no tabs; new rules.

      Shit!

      Go suck Growler if you need a little walking around money ...

      Growler?!

      Take his dick and you’ll even be able to pay Harry.

      Fuck, does everyone know my business?

      He gave me twenty to call him if I saw you ...

      "Are you gonna call him?"

      That’s up to you ...

      "Meet me at Lucille’s for some of her Mbawa Ya Tomati ... twenty just to call him?"

      "Johnny; a word of advice in your kio – stop fucking around with your life. One coke, on me ... Go see Growler, pay Harry, pay Lucille and don’t give it to Gonzales."

      "Yes, Kasa!"

      I’ll see Growler and check out this new place; one good hit and I can square up.

      oOo

      Leon ...

      "Why if it ain’t Johnny Santé; behind on your rent?"

      Is Growler busy?

      Wait there ...

      Sucking dick ain’t too bad. Come on, Johnny, don’t give up on me.

      "He’ll see you - be warned; he ain’t in no mood for games tonight."

      Thanks, Leon; got a smoke?

      Get the fuck in there!

      Growler is a thug with a heart of coal; not exactly the last resort ... more like the terminal building at the airport. Check in and go someways interesting.

      Sit and fucking listen.

      Le Boeuf is stood in the corner like a mummy in a tux; stoic would be a happy face for him – he’s not happy.

      Growler rummages in a drawer of the desk which separates us and retrieves something which I only recognise once he’s flung it across to me. It’s a Polaroid photograph.

      Find this kid ...

      I pick up the photograph and peer at the face staring back at me; a kid of about fourteen, blowing out the candles on a birthday cake.

      "... name’s David Renard."

      I slip the photograph into my pocket; I don’t even want to know why Growler is looking for him.

      Need some rent money, Johnny; is that why you’re here?

      Jus-

      "Fucking shut up unless I tell you to speak. Find the kid and you won’t need to worry about the rent for a while ... No doubt you’re on your way to see Gonzales and hand him your hard earned cash because of his sure thing ... don’t! His man will throw the fight my way and Gonzales is gonna be looking for new pastures to shit in."

      I nod furiously.

      Now get up, drop your pants and lean over.

      I hesitate for a second; I only wanted to blow him for the rent.

      Do it or Le Boeuf will give you a hand.

      This is not demeaning; this is survival. Getting fucked up the arse by a fat sleazy pig like Growler is like commuting to work every day – you do it because you don’t have a choice if you wanna live in the banlieu.

      I do as he says and lean over the desk, pressing my cheek to the leather in-lay, inhaling deeply to

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