The Neon God by Ben D'Alessio

Author:Ben D'Alessio [D'Alessio, Ben]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: -
ISBN: 9781543974959
Publisher: BookBaby
Published: 2019-06-26T22:00:00+00:00

A triumvirate of empty bottles of house red formed a triangle next to the bed—a fourth had fallen on its side and rolled to the opposite end of the room, exposing a slant in the floor.

The buzz from the street grew insufferable and Dio was forced to hop from the bed, unlock the door, and call for Dominic.

Bare except for the same ripe, bright-red underwear, Dio stood at the top of the staircase as the security guard hustled up the steps. Bourbon Street revelers who had begun their festivities early rushed to the bottom of the staircase, some craning their necks just to get a glimpse of the nearly naked legend.

“I need to plug my ears,” Dio said, the cracks in his lips stained purple.

Buddy Landry, who had fought his way through the crowd and rushed up the steps, held his hands together as if in prayer, begging for a moment of the god’s time. “Please, please. We already have a line. I will cancel for the rest of the week if you just…”

“I’m not taking anyone today. Bring plugs for my ears, and wine,” Dio responded, rushing him back out of the room and slamming the door behind him.

Dio avoided the balcony and the pile of books. His knees tucked into his chest, he pulled the stained sheet over his head, forming an acrid cocoon that made him sweat. He had almost fallen asleep, drifting into that cloudy delirium, before the door swung open, causing the god to jump in his bed.

Expecting to see a groveling Buddy Landry carrying a box of earplugs, eager to please, Dio hopped out of the bed and approached the intruder.

“How did you get in here?! I said…”

“I’m not here to fuck you or get fucked by you, brother.” The intruder had a chiseled body and the olive complexion of an Illyrian soldier. “I’m straight as an arrow. I mean, there was that one time in college when I was studying abroad in Amsterdam, but I don’t want to talk about that one time in college when I was studying abroad in Amsterdam.”

“How did you get in here?”

“I paid that big fella at the bottom of the steps probably more than he makes in a week working in this dump. Oh, and the door was unlocked.”

Dio, lightheaded, moved to his chair, signaling for his guest to take a seat on the stool.

“Listen, you’re the talk of the neighborhood, and brother, that ain’t a good thing right now. You’re too big. This meteoric rise is going to be the end of you. This kinda thing happens from time to time, a girl or two starts giving below-market BJs at Nicky’s or Satin Dolls”—he pointed over Dio’s head to the upriver blocks of Bourbon Street lined with strip joints—“and every tourist from Kissimmee to Kalamazoo starts lining up at the ATM. All the police gotta do is start counting the johns that head straight for the champagne room. They shut down Missy’s last year for the same racket.

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