The Devil's Arcade: An Action Crime Thriller played out with the police, a reporter and desperate criminals - but who are the criminals? by Jason Michael Thomas

Author:Jason Michael Thomas [Thomas, Jason Michael]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Rampart Books
Published: 2024-08-02T00:00:00+00:00

10

It was, what you might call, a message from beyond the grave. Robin was browsing through his emails when he discovered one from Yo-Yo in his spam folder—thanks to his asinine email address [email protected]. The subject heading was: Have a gawk at this!

He clicked it open and read it:

Hiya Rob,

After having a gander at your hot bird… it kept bugging me that I new [sic] her from somewhere. I told ya I’d seen whore [sic] before. I’m sorry for being the bearer of bad news… but it’s deffo whore [sic] in this porno Girls Suck & Fuck At Frat Party… isn’t it? I taught you should no [sic]. U deserve to no [sic] the truth. I mean… I’d wanna no [sic] if my bird wasn’t as pure as an angel outta one of those Renaissance paintings. Don’t worry… I won’t tell a soul. Here’s the link…

At first Robin felt it had to be a wind-up. There’s no way it’s true, he thought. Robin was stupefied, not just by the accusation that Emily was literally a whore, but also by the atrocious grammar. He thought, How could Yo-Yo correctly spell renaissance?

Robin knew he would not have got it correct in a Spelling B—yet Yo-Yo couldn’t distinguish whore from her and no from know and taught from thought?

He did not immediately click on the link. Robin lit a cigarette and watched the billow curl up towards the ceiling, as he attempted to come to terms with it being even a remote possibility. It had to be a case of mistaken identity, he felt. Yo-Yo was nothing more than a dirty old—or rather middle-aged—man and was at the stage in life where all young pretty blondes looked alike, right? Besides, Emily was not that type of girl.

Despite all his best efforts to put his mind at ease, Robin was still afraid to click on the link and had a bad feeling in the pit of his stomach when finally mustered up the courage to watch it.

The cheaply shot film began in a university dorm room with four naked males—none older than twenty—standing in front of bunk beds. Then two naked women—one blonde, one brunette—came into the frame. Robin could not see their faces yet.

The camera turned to show a group of a half-dozen other students—both male and female, and all white—in their underwear, drinking beer and whistling and applauding. It was a male dorm room, judging by the posters of half-naked women and American football memorabilia on the walls.

They were all very drunk. One of the girls was swaying back and forth as if she was about to topple over at any second. She grabbed onto the man beside her and he turned and cupped her breast in his hand and started to French kiss her.

The spectators goaded the two naked girls, chanting: Go girls. You go, girls.

The camera turned its attention back to the two naked girls, who were now on their knees. It zoomed in on the brunette’s face: she was giggling as the guy towering over her playfully slapped her cheek with his semi-erect penis.

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