A Girl Named Yellow
Author: Fox Wild

Chapter 5
Chapter 5 of 9

“Can you just not schedule anything for a month?  I need some time to myself!”  David yelled at no one, he was simply venting his frustrations.


“Sure, we’ll just call off the dates for the northwest, I’m sure they won’t mind, concert they’ve been waiting for, for nine months, sold out the first three days, we’ll just cancel that part of the tour, and you can have your month off.”  Lutz said with heavy sarcasm.


“Great!  We’ll make up the concerts after that.”  David agreed.




David waved a finger around.  “After we get back on the road again, after our vacation.”


“So, are we pushing the… ah… what, 14 concerts that we already have solid dates on back?”  Heidi offered.




“After the dates that would be canceled to give you a month off, we have concert dates across the south.  We’d have to reschedule all the following concerts for a month later, maybe two months, sold out concerts, reschedule them all, no problem.  Unless you’d rather make them up after five months and finish the tour dates on time and makeup dates after that so we don’t have to reschedule all of them.”  Heidi explained, bringing things into focus for David.


“Do we have to make them up if we miss them?  Can’t we just cancel, refund people’s money and keep touring?”  He inquired.


Heidi was shaking her head before he finished.  “Contractually obligated.  Set number of concerts, cities, auditoriums can vary, but you have to perform the concerts.  Miss one, make one up.  Unless it’s for health reasons, it’s not advised to miss a tour date.  Concerts are where the money is made.  The people who invested in you, want a return on their investment.”


David looked crossly at her.  “Yeah, and that includes you.  You make a pretty good deal with what I’ve done here.”


“I have a good deal here because of what I’ve done David Vetsoll.  Don’t flatter yourself, your fans do that enough.”  Lutz moved and fully faced David.  “Allow me to put things into perspective mister Vetsoll, as to how and why things have happened, and to whom you owe your success to.  Battle of the Bands, high school edition.  Starting with urging you to start your own band, and play lead, to even compete, after which it took them hours to decide, our band won.  I have relatives on the board.  Blood is thicker than water.  They decided to go with what I wanted, for a long term investment.”


David moved under her gaze.  “Bullshit.”


“Of course it is mister Vetsoll.  Then, after the school dance, no more band.  You got a gig, and met some new musicians.  The band lived on.  No matter what, when the band looked like it was going to end, something came along to save it.  Yeah, that’s all bullshit Vetsoll.”


“Yellow.”  David ejected then waved a finger at Lutz.  “Yellow found our bassist.  Lydia, Yellow knew her, got her involved.  You can’t claim that.”


Heidi shrugged.  “Yellow found Lydia.  Who got her to stay?  Convinced her this band thing was worth the investment?  She had offers from other orchestras, better money than what she was making; but she stayed with us and chose a career of rock and roll over classical and opera.  Think she made that decision all on her own?  Chose to learn the electric bass?  Now she’s top of the charts.”


David looked at her blankly.  He didn’t want to see what was right in front of him.  Heidi, Lutz, background girl, a wall flower mostly, quietly working behind the scenes, setting her plans in motion.  Every major break, Heidi brought it to David, finessed him to go the way she wanted.  The reality was, he was her product.  She’s sold him and made a lot of money in her dealings.


“Two weeks.  We’ll work the makeup concerts in with the regular tour.  It’ll mean a bit more traveling, but we’ll make them up faster, and I need some downtime.  My health depends on it.”  David stated.


Heidi didn’t say anymore.  His mind was made.  Instead of a month, he compromised to two weeks.  He and the band had been going nonstop for some time now, a little downtime was warranted.  She didn’t want her product crashing too soon.  27 was some time off.  He had to make it to at least 27; and if he did die then, that was the gateway to immortality, and long term mailbox money for her.  She’d covered her angles to ensure her own end game.  After that, she could move on to other projects, hire people to handle David and his band, and simply milk the cash cow.


Heidi opened her tablet and pulled up an app.  “So, where would you and the band like to go for your two week sabbatical?  Tropical island, Vienna, maybe someplace cold?”


David shook his head.  “Send the others wherever they want to go.  I have a place I can go, back home.”


Heidi looked up from the tablet.  “Ah… you mean the Castle Danger house?”


David brought his eyes to her.  “Yeah, of course.  It’s my secret get-away place.  I’ve always kept it.  Always will.”  His expression changed as he read Heidi’s face.  “What have you done?”


She laughed nervously and flipped her hair.  “Ah… well, you see, it was an asset, and… ah… well, you weren’t using it; it’s been sitting empty… three years.  Since I was managing your assets…” she visibly cringed now, “I put it on the market.”


Horror struck David’s face.  “You what?!  Put it on the market?  What the hell does that mean?  You sold my house?!”  He screeched.


Lutz looked in a manner one would never expect the confident, business minded woman to look.  “I… David, it was just sitting there, empty, you said you wanted Castle Danger in your past… I, I thought…”


“Who bought the house?”  David demanded.  “Find out who bought it, and find out how much they want for me to buy it from them!”


20 minutes later, Heidi walked back to where David was.  “It’s… ah, there was an issue… the realtor… the house hasn’t sold.  The realtor’s signs kept disappearing, they know who, they just can’t prove it.  Then there was some showings… apparently… there was some… sabotage was the word they used, to prevent any sales.  Sewer…”  Heidi made a guttural sound.  “other things.  They’re refusing to list the house anymore.  One of the local realtor’s is afraid to go out to the place, claims it’s haunted.  Has to be Yellow, that bitch!”


“Good girl Yellow.”  David muttered to himself.




“Nothing.  I’m leaving for Washington, Castle Danger.  I’ll call you when I’m leaving, until then, leave me alone.”  David ordered.  He headed to the door, “And don’t sell anything of mine without checking with me first.  You may be the power behind the throne, but I still sit in the throne Heidi.”




David drove his favorite vehicle to Castle Danger.  Heidi tried to insist that he have a limo drive him, or the service, but he refused and drove himself.  This was a piece of American pride.  A 1974 Dodge power wagon four wheel drive.  Mileage was not something you talked about with a truck like this; tromp the throttle and you left raw fuel on the ground behind you.  It even had the factory original AM radio and both speakers.


As he passed thru the early morning sites of Castle Danger, his headlights hit on the realtor’s office.  Piled on the lawn in front of the door, was a pile of signs for the realtor’s office.  David had a suspicion, and chuckled to himself as he drove past.


He turned down the drive to his house.  The place looked… lived in, maintained, it looked like home.  A feeling he hadn’t had in some time now hit him like a runaway train, it felt like home.  He’d missed the place, simpler times.  Times before there was even a proper bedroom in the house; days and nights spent on his couch, which, unless Heidi sold it, he still had.


Down the way, rounding the bend, he could see the front of his place, the wrap-around veranda porch.  Yellow would give him crap for that, saying a veranda was a porch.  Yellow, she’d been here, of course, and was apparently expecting him at some point, hoping at least.  The wind was blowing lightly, he could see the flicker of paper in the air; paper held down by a painted rock.  Were they waving at him?  In some twisted way, maybe, but, no, they weren’t waving at him.  They lined the veranda from the front, to the door on the side from what he could see as he drove up.


There had to be a hundred letters; maybe not quite that many, 50?  20, that was a more reasonable number.  They’d been left over several days.  He remembered back to the cemetery, the letter she’d left on the grave, how she’d wanted to leave it again after it blew away.  It would never be read, she believed the spirit of the person would hear the words.  That was Yellow.


He collected the letters then went inside and placed them in the attic with the others he’d collected over the years.  He laughed at the thought that Yellow should’ve been an author for as much as she wrote; in a way, she was.  He closed the box and looked at it, considering reading some of the letters.  He sat there for a minute, put his hands on the lid of the box, time washed past him.  Ten minutes later, he placed the box fully on the floor and stood, then went back downstairs.


Downstairs, he looked at where his bags were piled, the well used luggage that had been with him for about a year now.  The only original piece with him was the large black backpack.  It was by far the most worn, having been repaired many times now.  Every time someone suggested replacing it, he’d get misty and refuse, stating sentimental reasons for keeping it.  That was the truth, Yellow had given him that backpack, shortly after he moved here when school started.  He didn’t have one, and there was no bus to school, and they were almost a mile away.  Yellow had pity on him and bought that one for him with her paper route money.  That was Yellow.


He’d sent no word he was coming.  He didn’t even have Yellow’s number anymore.  The days of touring, changing cell phones, somehow, her number never made it.  He felt low now; he’d taken her for granted.  Never bothering to try and call her until he was on his way here, only to find, he didn’t have her number, or anyone who would know it.  She took care of his place for him, and he never even called her, wrote a letter, nothing.  A text would’ve been easy.


Why, he didn’t know, but he walked into the kitchen and opened the refrigerator.  Inside, to his chagrin, a bottle of orange juice, carton of milk, a loaf of bread, some roast beef, cheese, and a new jar of miracle whip.  He checked the date on the meat, it was three days old.  Someone had recently put it in the fridge.  Yellow, this is something she’d have done.


Looking around the house, it looked… exactly the same, despite the changes.  Things had been fixed, added, but the place looked the same.  It felt the same.  Only one thing was missing, Yellow.  He poured a glass of orange juice, and headed to the veranda.  This was what was missing from his life now.  This simple pleasure, sitting down without anyone following after him, needing his input on something, needing to explain some detail to him.


David was halfway through his glass of orange juice, when a car appeared on the drive in.  There was a realtor’s logo on the side.  Great, more business.  The car parked, and a middle aged woman got out, saw him, then started for the veranda.


“Mister Vetsoll?”  She asked when she arrived.




“Martha Miller, Western Realty.”  She introduced herself as and held out her hand.


David didn’t move to shake hands.  “I know who you are miss Miller.  I’m not interested in selling the house, my manager made an error in listing it.  Your company already said they didn’t want to do business with me anymore.  Why are you here?”


“Ah, yes, well…”  Miss Miller stammered as she retracted her hand.  “Be that as it may, we were still hired on your behalf, we still need to close this business.  I have papers with me for you to sign.”


David shook his head.  “Not signing anything.”


She looked at him distraught.  “Yes, but… your agent…”




“Manager, fine, she authorized us to sell and started a contract with us.  We simply need your signature to close the contract, and that the house was not sold, no interests were exchanged.  It just closes our dealings mister Vetsoll.”  Miss Miller explained.


David shook his head again.  “I never signed anything with your company in the first place, not signing anything now.  My manager hired you, she can fire you.  You’re interfering with my serenity.  Leave.”


With a dejected air, miss Miller nodded and started to turn, then stopped.  “What do you want done with the letters that were delivered here?”


In a quick movement, David’s head came up and he focused on the woman.  “What letters?”


“Unsealed letters, left with a rock to hold them down.  Some crazy fan I suspect.  Probably the one who kept sealing our signs.  There’s quite a collection back at the office; we didn’t know what to do with them.  They weren’t mailed, so…”


“Bring them here, all of them.  Did you read them?”


Miss Miller made an embarrassed sound.  “Ah… no, not personally, but, they were left on the porch, unsealed, we didn’t know what they were.  Some of the agents read some of them.  Most of them didn’t make any sense, but…”


“They weren’t yours to be reading.  Bring them here right away!”  He demanded.


“Yes.  I’ll have someone arrange to bring them out this week.”  She said then started to leave.


“Today, within an hour, have them here.  My people will be in touch, lawyer type people.”  David advised.


Without another word, miss Miller left the veranda, and the yard.  About forty minutes later, a boy driving a pickup truck pulled into the drive.  David met him at the walk, he had the boxes of letters left at the house.  There were four of them total, and they were full.




“The shop looks a little bare Yellow.”  David said after he walked up to her at the counter in the flower shop.


“David!”  Yellow barked with joy in her voice.  “When did you get into town?”


Yeah, like she didn’t know he was here.  “Last night, early this morning.  Thanks for keeping an eye on the place for me.  Heidi put it up for sale without me knowing.  Stopped that.  Thanks.  You know… thanks.”


She giggled.  “Don’t know what for.  I just took care of the place for you.  I didn’t do anything else.”


David snickered.  “Yeah, I bet.  Why don’t you swing by when you’re done here.  What time do you close?”


“Ah, four, five, yeah, it’s just me here now, so, not done until five.”  Yellow said with a glum tone.


David looked concerned.  “You running this place by yourself?  What happened to the other girls?”


Yellow chortled and dropped her head some looking amused.  “Oh, most of them found other jobs, I couldn’t keep them working enough, so…”  She looked off to the side and pointed.  “Everything’s internet sales now.  I put up designs, people put in their orders and I ship them out.  Not a lot of street traffic anymore with Pro Buds having a store here.  Not quite what I wanted, but it pays the bills.  And I can handle it all by myself, so I save money on labor.”


David smile slightly.  “Yeah, I know what you mean.  Never is like you think it will be.  Now days I practically have to kill someone to get time to myself.  Never thought I’d be responsible for hiring people, firing people, managing a crew, payroll, keeping up a fleet of vehicles.”


“Awe, the big times sound so hard.  Poor baby, all his millions and he still isn’t happy.”  Yellow teased.


“Millions of debt you mean.  You know how much it takes to keep a crew like this going?”  David said fully pulling his business side into the room with them.


“Wow, David Vetsoll, all grown up, sold out to the business.”  Yellow said, somewhat mockingly, mostly not.  She was seeing a maturity in him.


“Yeah, you sold out long before I did… I think.  Business was always your dream.”  He bobbed his head some.  “Guess it was mine too; just didn’t realize how much business there was in music, in being a band.  I always thought when you made it big, you hired people to take care of you.  But who do you hire to keep an eye on those people?  You have to do it.  People will rob you blind if you don’t watch them.  Being a fairly new band, we’re prime targets.”


“That’s another right of passage into the adult world, getting stung in business.”  Yellow added.  Shaking her head, she changed topics.  “So, are you going to go to the 10 year reunion?”


“What?  10 year reunion?  That’s like… not for a while yet, isn’t it?”  David responded a bit flabbergasted. 


“Yeah, like three years, four, three.  They’re already making plans for it.  The 10 is the big one until 25, so, they’re trying to make a big deal out of it.  Rented a hall already.  Collecting money, of course.”  Yellow told him.


“Ah, shit, too soon to be thinking about a high school reunion.  Just skip it and hold out for the 25 year reunion.”  David proclaimed.


“Yeah, right.  Shit, people can’t even really plan for it, years out, who knows what we’ll be doing, where we’ll be living.”


Awkward silence fell on the room now, broken only by the hum of the refrigeration units, that were mostly empty.  After a couple minutes of this, David got things moving again.


“Say, if you want to, why don’t you swing by the house, when you’re done.”  He asked her.


Yellow smiled.  “I’d like that.  I will.”  She answered, then he started for the door.  A man with a hat was walking in as he left.


“Hello Bob.”  Yellow said in a down tone.


“Yellow.  How’s business been?”




By 6:00pm David was wishing he’d have had the foresight to ask Yellow for her phone number.  His house was barely a 20 minute drive from town.  She may have had other things to do, he thought about calling the shop.  No phonebook, no internet.  There was a wi-fi signal that was strong, but he didn’t know the password.


By 9:00pm, he decided she decided not to come.  He wasn’t mad, he thought she was happy to see him, maybe not.  Maybe something happened… maybe he should stop worrying.  He came here to escape worry and stress.  He got up, walked to his truck and got in.  Not knowing where to go, he fired the engine and started driving, with no place in mind to go.


He drove by his parents old house.  The place looked pretty much the same.  His parents were in Europe presently, this house, they still owned, but rarely visited anymore.  He hadn’t spoken with either of his parents in over a year.  They texted once in a while.  Was he that distant to his family and friends now?  That they never talked, the only people he regularly spoke with were… industry people, band members, label people, he didn’t have regular friends anymore.  What was Rocks up to?  Was he still married to the little gothic girl?  The last he knew, they were going to Egypt.


The high school looked the same, except for a large addition that was newly completed.  The years had past like nothing.  Sitting here looking at the high school, regret suddenly hit him; the choices he’d made, were they right?  What if he’d done things differently?  Changed some things, he still could.


Contracts, those could be a problem, he couldn’t just up and quit.  He still had three albums remaining on his contract.  All the money he had, was tied up in those same contracts; don’t fulfill them, don’t get the money.  He drove off from the high school, confused, questioning himself, his life choices.  Was he happy?  He’d found success, but had that made him happy?


He turned into the old park, he didn’t know why, he had no place else to go.  This was where he first met Yellow, maybe that was why he went here.  The township spent less and less on the park every year it seemed.  The few buildings around were beaten up.  The bathrooms had out of order signs on them and were locked.  As he walked across the park, he wondered if the McDaniel brothers still ruled the park, or who their current successors were.


Some boys were watching him as he crossed the park, once they saw he wasn’t coming towards them, they ignored him and went back to what they were doing.  He found the old path that led down through the woods.  It didn’t see much use, but it still looked like it had some traffic.  Once he was past the no trespassing signs, he headed for the secret clubhouse, otherwise known as the original Castle Danger Community Center. 


Since he’d graduated, the old building didn’t see any use, and was looking ready to fall down.  He looked for the key, it still hung where they left it so many years ago now.  The lock worked, he opened the door to the dark inside.  Without thinking, he reached for a light switch.  The power was still connected, a light turned on.  Mice and bugs scattered under the glow of the light.  The inside was a mess.  A tree had come through a window, opening the entire thing to the elements.  He went to a door with a crayola written sign that said ‘Yellow’s Office’ and stood in front of it for several minutes staring at it.  He opened the door finally and looked in.


It looked like she could walk in any second and sit down at the desk.  The stuffed unicorn he’d given her sat on a shelf still.  The room had been unaffected by the weather, the door had preserved it.  He walked in and looked around as memories flooded his mind.  He felt as though he could almost cry, but he didn’t know why; the memories were of happy times, spent here with his friends.  Maybe that was why, those friends, now were far removed from his life, and not that many years ago.


David stood there, watching the second hand on the clock on the wall tick away.  He straightened himself, shook his body, then turned and walked from the building, locking the door and returning the key as he left.  Yellow still came here occasionally, he knew this now; just not since the tree came through the place, probably.  Three months?  Six?  Within the last year at least; when was daylight savings time?  Didn’t matter, she may not be back for another year.  He walked off in the dim light.


As he walked by a power pole, he lifted a switch on it, lights on poles lit up, lighting a path down to the lake.  He was past the end of the path and on the sand of Danger Lake beach.  There were no more security lights, the one by what had been the picnic area, no longer worked.  Rocks had tried to climb the pole, but after one attempt, wisely gave up.


The beach was old, the sand weathered and worn looking; driftwood lined the sides of the beach with some deposited along the shore of the beach itself.  He remembered Yellow would collect the driftwood, she even made a chair out of some larger pieces, it was in his den in his house.  HIS house, not Heidi’s to sell, let, teardown, or anything else; it was the house Yellow built, for him.  His house, was not for sale; he declared this to the night sky.


“My House Is Not For Sale!!  Not now, not ever!  Do you hear me gods of rock and roll?  The House That Yellow Built is MINE!  You cannot have the House That Yellow Built!  It is not yours gods of rock and roll!  I, David Vetsoll, claim the House That Yellow Built as my sanctuary!  I shall be interned in this house upon my death!  Do you hear me gods of Rock?”


“I doubt it, the gods of rock and roll are stone deaf.”  A familiar voice said from within the grasp of darkness.  “Also, I think you need a sacrificial offering of blood and piss when you make a deal with the rock and roll gods.  Ozzie book three, chapter three, verse three.  Yea though thoust not needith to the head of a bat biteth off, yea, but a good menstrual stain on the carpet and bed, a good story make.”


“Yellow?”  David queried in a puzzled voice, she sounded… off.


“Nope.  I’m your fairy fuck sister.”  Yellow said as she stepped forward, cigarette in one hand, bottle of Jack Daniels in the other, and a tit hanging out.  Not his favorite of the two either, this one had the small nipple.


David had a moment, his personal ‘movie moment’ as they would’ve called it when the gang he hung out with here was still… here.  Stupefied, he could only gawk at her.  He’d never gawked in his life, now, he was gawking.  For all the shenanigans Yellow had pulled over the years, she’d never made him gawk; everyone else, oh hell yeah, but not David, not until this very moment.  Ever have something happen in life, not your first time seeing live titties, but something that is a burned photo-plate in your head?  That moment is frozen, for the rest of your days, in your mental photo library, with no delete button.  That was this moment for David.  If that hasn’t ever happened to you, wait for it; hopefully you’ll live long enough for it to happen to you.  Why are these moments, never good moments?


“Yellow… what the fuck?  You’re smoking?  A cigarette?  And drinking?”  David stammered still not recovered from his recent introduction to gawking.


“Yeah, so?  You’re a big rock star now, you smoke, drink, snort, fuck everything that moves, pussy optional.”  She said then took a drag off the cigarette, trying to look tough, ending with coughing so hard, she ended up puking. 


Yellow looked at the contents of her stomach, now on the sand of the beach.  “Great, more room for Jack, he can always cum in my mouth.”


Before she could start downing the bottle, David grabbed it and her hands.  He removed the bottle from the one hand and held it, took the cigarette from the other and flicked it off towards the lake.


“What the hell Yellow.  I’ve never seen you take a drink before, always insist pot’s the only vice you have, now you’re… shit, this is the high test shit, fuck, now you’re hitting really hard shit, and starting smoking?”  David said, nearly screeching at the end.


“What do you care?  You’re not from here anymore Hollywood.”  Yellow reached for the bottle, David back from her.  “What are you doing here anyways?  Come down to see us little people, get ideas for your next million dollar album?  Trying to find someway to relate to the common person again so you can sell them a song?”


He was lost at the moment, nothing came to mind that he should do to help the situation.  “I came back because this is where my home is, the House that…”

“Yeah, the house that Yellow built, bullshit.  I should’ve burned the fucking thing to the ground.  Still might.”  She muttered as she stumbled after David.


“No, Yellow, promise me, you won’t burn down my house!”  He said facing her now, a very serious tone in his voice.


“Hey, I built it, I should have the right to unbuild it if I want to.”  She replied with a smirk.


David put a hand on each of her shoulders and squared off looking her directly in the eyes.  “Yellow, please, promise me, you won’t destroy my house.  It’s the only thing real I have in this world, it’s my most prized possession, please Yellow, don’t take that from me.”  He begged.


Yellow looked deep into his eyes.  He wasn’t kidding, the house meant as much to him as he said it did.  “Yeah, fine, I promise I won’t blow your house up.”


David held her.  “Or burn it down, run an end-loader through it, hit it with a planet, you won’t destroy it in any way?”


“Right, that’s what I just said.”  Yellow replied, then looked into his eyes.  “I won’t burn down, end-loader, alter the path of the moon or meteors in any way to affect your house.  Happy?”


“Maybe.”  He said, then held out his hand.




“The pack of cigarettes.  You’re dying of old age, not lung cancer.”


She snorted a scoff at him, then reached to her butt and produced a pack of cigarettes.  After a glance at them, she handed the pack to David.


“Fuck, you went straight to rot gut dog turds didn’t you?”  He commented looking at them.


“Hey, it was my first time, I don’t know shit about tobacco, weed, hell yeah, but not smokes.”  She returned.


David smirked.  “That’s not a bad thing.  Only one thing you need to know about tobacco, it’ll kill you, don’t use it.  Stick with cannabis.”


Yellow snorted.  “Oh, now look who’s all ‘pot is great’ now.”


“I never said pot was great; between the two, well, three, weed, cigarettes and booze, weeds the least hazardous.  Stick with what you know.”  David replied.


“Tasted like burnt ass, then I barfed.”  Yellow announced.


“Really?  You only had one drag?”


“Really, really donkey.  Lit it up just before I said something to you.  Sat down on the beach, started drinking.  Seemed to go together, smoking and drinking, least from movies and TV.  Bars, everyone drinks, then stands outside to smoke.  You’re right though, not for me.  I’ll die old, with a vibrator and a bong by my side.”  Yellow said with a gleeful jib in her voice.  “I’d drank, oh… some from the bottle, forgot I had even bought them, till I heard you talking to rock gods and shit.”


“Well, I lead a rock band, I know a lot about people puking.  I don’t drink, I don’t puke, unless the food from a drive thru is bad, then I puke for days.  This has been proven.  I’ve hired a food tester, his name is Ralph.  He’s a Boston Terrier.” 


“Really?  You have a dog now?”  Yellow was amused to hear this.


“Yeah, little guy is great, now that he’s bus trained, and people know when he’s telling them he has to go.”  David filled in.


“Can I have my bottle back now?”  Yellow requested with a finger gesture at the bottle.


David looked at the bottle.  “Oh, sure.”  He said, looked at her, smiled, then took the cap off as he retrieved it from the ground then turned it over, letting all the booze drain out; he returned the cap then handed the bottle to her.  “Here you go.  Your bottle.”


Her face wasn’t impressed as she took the bottle from him, then flung it as hard as she could towards the lake.  Her miss was announced by the sound of glass breaking.


“Fuck, rock pile.”  She growled.


“Amazing.  All these years, and without fail, you still manage to hit the only pile of rocks on the beach.”  David stated.


“Unless I’m actually trying to throw a rock onto the pile, then I hit Ken in the head with a rock.”


David cackled.  “Oh gawd!  I’d forgotten about that!  I bet he’s still got a scar from that.  Split his scalp right open.  What are the odds.”


Yellow rasped her throat in anger.  “Well if the dumb fuck would’ve taken a flashlight like he was supposed to, it’s not like we didn’t have 30 of them around here, they all worked, and were there just so that didn’t happen.”


He looked at her quietly for a second.  It was his own fault he got hit by the rock.  Had Ken taken one of the flashlights, he’d have been seen, Yellow would’ve never thrown the rock.  She ‘requisitioned’ a case of plastic LED flashlights from a local convenience store, and a case of batteries from some big box store.  Her reasoning, so people would be safe.  Plain and simple, that was Yellow.  She gave a shit about people.


“What the hell was he doing over there anyways?  It’s the rock pile.”  Yellow commented.


“Taking a wiz.”  David filled in.  “Also why he didn’t take a flashlight.  Good thing that rock didn’t hit his sack.”


“Not what I heard.”




“Some girl was here with a cousin or something, he was taking her to the woods.”  Yellow told him.


“Taking her to the woods, so they were looking for a place to fuck.  Lot of fucking went on at this place.”  David replied.


“Yeah, well, he was looking for a place to fuck, she wanted someplace to piss, that’s where he told her he was taking her.  Not exactly what happened.”  Yellow said, then took several steps away, dropping the topic.


After a minute, David moved to where Yellow was.  “Okay, go on.”


Without looking at him she replied, “Go on what?  I’m done, it’s said.  New topic.”


“No.  You started talking about Ken and some girl, imply shit, then duck out.  What the fuck happened that you heard.”  David demanded.


Yellow scoffed then shook her head as she looked at him.  “What difference does it make?  That’s years in the past, old history, doesn’t matter to anyone anymore.”


“It matters to me.  The truth… it’s never too old for the truth, that’s all I want, the truth.  I heard one side of the story, I’ve always known there was another side, but nobody knew it or would talk.  If you know it, at least, as you said, it’s old news, let me finally know the truth, the other side of the story.  Is that asking to much of you anymore Yellow?”


She shook her head again.  “Fuck.”


Now he shook his head.  “No, talk.”


She held a quizzical puzzled look on him.  After a few moments, this sustained look started to make him feel uneasy; he shifted in place, glancing off at times. 


“Asshole.  Straight to sex?”  Yellow accused.


He glared at her.  “I said no.  No means no, right?”


She scoffed hard in his face.  “No dumb ass, that you’d think I want to have sex with you after you just show up after, what, three years?  Who cares.  Try to call you, phone doesn’t work anymore.  Only address I have is the same as the fan mail and fan email.  Thanks.  How can I contact you if I can’t contact you?  You leave, I no longer exist to you.  You come back here, and I’m supposed to fall on my back with my legs wide just for you.  Go jack off dude.”


David started to reply, then held.  “You know what, forget you.  I’m done with this game.  Have a nice life Yellow.”


He heard her start sobbing as he walked up the beach.  He stopped turned, then headed back to her.  Once he was where she was, he put an arm around her and started her walking up the beach towards where the building was.  He needed to get her off the beach, to someplace safe.


“Just take me to my office.  I just want to sit in there for a bit.”  Yellow said once they were near the building.


“Ah, Yellow, there’s a tree through the wall.”  David informed her.


“Yeah, second time, should cut them all back, but, fuck it.  I’ll fix it up again next week.  Not like we use the building much, just my private office anymore.  Everyone else has forgotten the place exists.”  Yellow replied.


David shook his head.  “Everyone else grew up and stopped playing in their schoolhouse clubhouse.  Jobs, lives, careers.  Even you.  You just own the land, so, yeah.”


“Growing up and getting jobs shouldn’t mean you stop being friends, hanging out.”  Yellow countered.


“You’re right, it shouldn’t.  Doesn’t change the fact, that it does.”


“When did you become the sensible logical one?”  Yellow questioned.


“I’m the same way I’ve always been, just like you.  Only now, I’ve accomplished what I said I would, I don’t sound as far fetched, and the same reasoning now sounds logical.”  David answered.


Yellow cackled now then slapped David on the shoulder.  “You accomplished, don’t you mean Lutz accomplished?  Or haven’t you figured that out yet?”


David was taken aback a bit.  “What?  You mean, you knew what she was up to?”


Yellow nodded with a curt smirk.


“And you never said anything?”


She shrugged.  “Why should I.  She was going to give you what you wanted.  How is that a bad thing?  And she’d never fuck you.  Perfect manager.”


David smirked.  “Oh, how do you know Lutz and I have never rode the hobby horse together?”


Yellow scoffed.  “For starters, you’ve got to much penis for her.”


“What?  She’s a lesbian?  Bullshit.”


Yellow sighed.  “I didn’t say that, you did, I said, you had to much penis for her, she likes to dominate boys.  Her man will be quiet, meek, and lick her boots when she orders him to.  Plus, you’re not Kosher, Lutz, very Kosher.  You’re not Kosher, Lutz ain’t going to touch you.”


“What the hell’s that supposed to mean?”  David asked with confusion heavy in his voice.


Yellow sighed hard.  “Kosher, Lutz is a Jew dumb-ass.  You ain’t even circumcised.  You ain’t getting anywhere with that girl.  She’s very big on her suitors being one of the chosen, and only one of the chosen.  Figured working with her this long, you’d have gotten to know her a little, guess not; why bother if she won’t fuck you, right?”


“Alright, I’ve had enough, you look calm enough, I can leave, you are calm, aren’t you Yellow?”  David asked, tired of her prodding.


“Yeah, I’m calm, I’m not going to go high diving or anything, you can relax.  Just go, that’s something you do great, leaving.”  She barked at him, flipped the bird, then turned off and headed to the building to go to her office.


David stood outside watching the building, the light came on in her office, good, she’d be in there and not out doing crazy shit.  He watched as she sat down at her desk, pulled out a laptop, then started typing.  Well, it looked like the place wasn’t as unused as he’d thought.  Yellow didn’t live in the same reality as the rest of us.  Hers was slightly better.




Notify me when...

"This extract remains the exclusive property of the author who retains all copyright and other intellectual property rights in the work. It may not be stored, displayed, published, reproduced or used by any person or entity for any purpose without the author's express permission and authority."

Please rate and comment on this work
The writer appreciates your feedback.

Book overall rating (No. of ratings: 
Would you consider buying this book?
Yes | No
Your rating:
Post a comment Share with a friend
Your first name:
Your email:
Recipient's first name:
Recipient's email:

Worthy of Publishing is against spam. All information submitted here will remain secure, and will not be sold to spammers.

No advertising or promotional content permitted.