Free Fiction: Man's Ruin Part Four (A Lenny Parker serial) by Jochem Vandersteen

Lenny Parker, PI / roadie / metalhead is back in a new serial, every new part starting with a metal video. He’s my slightly more humorous version of the PI. He doesn’t exactly know what he’s doing and sure as hell isn’t the martial arts master my Noah Milano is. In the first episode of this new story he was hired to track down the girl who robbed an old buddy of his lottery ticket. See previous parts here.
This time the video is Alice Cooper's big hit Poison. Read the story and it will make sense.

FOUR

“That was good,” Janey said and handed Lenny the glass back. “Wouldn’t mind another one.”

“You got it,” Lenny said and ordered a new one. He handed it her, this time she sipped it more slowly. Good thing too, this case would be getting expensive otherwise and he didn’t have that much cash. Not until he finished the case successfully and managed to get Keith’s lottery ticket back.

“Haven’t seen you around before, baby… You look pretty rock ‘n’ roll. I dig that. You in a band?” Janey asked.

“Yeah, I’m a bassplayer,” Lenny said.

She moved closer to him, running a finger across his chest. “Those are usually the most sexy.”

Lenny swallowed. He wasn’t exactly used to getting hit on by women that hot. It’s not like his band had any groupies yet. He had to force himself to keep his head clear and on the case.

“Good to hear. You come here often?”

Janey smiled mischievously. “I come as often as I can anywhere.”

That girl had some lines. Lenny couldn’t help and feel a slight stir in his jeans. “That’s a good way to think, I guess.”

Poison, by Alice Cooper started playing. That got her excited. “I love that song. Come dance with me, sugar.”

What she called dancing was more rubbing herself up and down Lenny’s rotund body. Not that he minded. He could see Casey at the bar, shaking her head in disbelief. Dancing, she move her lips closer to his and tasted his lip. Tongues interacted and he loved the way the whiskey taster on her tongue. This wasn’t a bad case to be on, really.

“How’s about you take me to your place, sugar?” she whispered in his ear.

“That sounds really good,” Lenny admitted. “We’ll have to call a cab though, a friend drove me over.”

“Sure,” she said. “I’m going to the little girl’s room while you call one,” she said and walked off.

Lenny joined Casey at the bar. “Looks like I hit paydirt.”

“You’re right on the dirt-part. What a cheap whore,” Casey said.

“You almost sound jealous,” Lenny noted.

“Fuck you, heterosexual.”

“Right. I’m going to take her home. I gotta call a cab. Thanks for taking me over here.”

“Sure, enjoy. And watch your dick. You only got one.”

“I won’t be sleeping with her. I’m a professional. I’m just going to try and find out where she has the lottery ticket.”

“Sure.”

Janey returned from the toilet and put an arm around Lenny. “Ready to go, baby?”

They walked outside, the cab just arriving. They got in the car and as soon as they were seated Janey put her tongue in Lenny’s ear. He saw the driver looking at her lecherously. Lenny gave him his address and they drove off.

Lenny barely had time to pay the driver as Janey pulled him along, out of the car to his apartment building. They walked over to his place, Lenny somewhat fumbling with the keys as Janey was now rubbing his crotch. Man, he wasn’t used to that.

The door opened and they went in. Janey looked around the place. “Nice bass guitars.”

“Thanks,” Lenny said. He was pretty happy with them as well, they looked pretty cool on his wall he thought. “I would have cleaned up the place if I knew I would have female company though.”

“Never mind. Just take me to your bedroom, baby. I want you.” She threw her jacket off, then pulled her top off, displaying a lacy black bra and small but firm breasts.

Lenny felt eager to take her to the bedroom and enjoy all of the good things her body seemed to offer. Then he decided he was a professional and locked the door of his apartment.

“No, we stay here,” he told her.

“What do you mean, here?” Clearly she wasn’t used to that.

“In the living room. You stole something from a buddy of mine. I want it back.”

“I don’t know what the fuck you are talking about.”

“The lottery ticket you stole. He wants it back.”

“You’re creeping me out. I’m outta here.” Janey walked to the door, but Lenny blocked it with his rotund body, arms crossed.

“Just get me the ticket and you can go.”

“This is kidnapping! I’m calling the cops!” Janey said.

“I’m pretty sure you won’t do that,” Lenny said.

She charged him like a bull. She crashed into him, Lenny bouncing with his back against the door. She tried to push him away from the door, but Lenny was just to steady on his feet. She tried to knee him in the balls, but he saw it coming, twisting his hip and taking the knee on his leg. Then she went for his eyes, long nails like claws. He grabbed her wrists and pushed her away from him. She fell down on his couch.

“You bastard!” she said.

“I’m really sorry, but I really want you to give the lottery ticket back. I’m not going to hurt you, but I’m also not going to let you leave until you do.”

“I know some nasty people, asshole. They will really enjoy killing you.”

Lenny really didn’t like being threatened. He didn’t want to die and was no hero. Still, he took on Keith’s case and couldn’t just back down. So he tried to act as much as a tough guy as he could.

“Many have tried. As you can see no one has succeeded.”

Then she started to cry. “It’s not as cut and dried as you think. I need the money. I’m in trouble.”

.
TO BE CONTINUED

Free Fiction: Man's Ruin Part Three (A Lenny Parker serial) by Jochem Vandersteen

Lenny Parker, PI / roadie / metalhead is back in a new serial, every new part starting with a metal video. He’s my slightly more humorous version of the PI. He doesn’t exactly know what he’s doing and sure as hell isn’t the martial arts master my Noah Milano is. In the first episode of this new story he was hired to track down the girl who robbed an old buddy of his lottery ticket. See previous parts here.
This time the video is Slipknot's People = Shit but with a very different video. It will make sense when you read this episode.

THREE

“What the hell happened to you?” Casey asked Lenny as he walked into her apartment. “You didn’t go into a moshpit again, did you? You’re getting too old and slow for that shit.”

“I ran into a fist leaving a bar,” Lenny told her, wiping some blood from his nose.

“Shit, sit down. Let me clean that up a bit,” Casey said.

Lenny sat down on the ratty couch in her apartment. There wasn’t much furniture but the walls were covered with old concert flyers. Casey used to go to nursing school before dropping out so she seemed to be the best person to visit after his little encounter at the Tower Club.

Casey wet a cloth and washed his face with a tenderness he really hadn’t seen her exhibit before. As she did he told her exactly what happened.

“Leave it up to you to get beaten up within hours after taking on a case. Philip Marlowe has nothing on you.

“If only I was as good an investigator. Or as witty,” Lenny said and winced when the cloth hit a painful part of his nose.

“Right. You’re lucky. Nothing broken. Won’t even need stitches. Must hurt like hell, though. Let me give you some medicine,” Casey said and offered him a bottle of Jack.

Lenny took a long pull, making an aaaah sound as the booze made the familiar slightly burning but pleasant sensations it does.

“Let me put on a band-aid on that snozzle of yours. I only have My Little Pony ones left. Hope you don’t mind.”

“Right,” Lenny said. “Nothing says metal better than a pink horse.”

“Prog-metal perhaps? Or stoner metal?” Casey suggested.

Lenny shrugged. “Doesn’t matter. We haven’t got any gigs lined up in the next few weeks anyway.”

“True. First time you seem happy about that. So, now what? Are you continuing your investigation or do you choose to keep your teeth?”

“Hey, you should see the other guy. I won the fight. So yeah, I’m continuing my investigation. What kind of private eye would I be when I dropped the case as soon as some dude gets a bit physical.”

Casey chuckled. “You don’t look like you were the winner of the fight.”

“What do you know about fights, you’re a girl?”

That wasn’t Lenny’s smartest choice of words. Casey pinched his nose, causing him to go down on his knees, howling in pain.

“I’m a fucking woman, Lenny. Not a girl. And you know I know all about fights,” Casey said.

“Yeah, yeah. Just kidding. Ow man…” Lenny wiped some tears from his eyes.

“Take another one from the bottle to take care of that pain,” Casey offered.

“I can’t. I’m driving. And imagine that bartender calls that Janey is there. I will have to get behind the wheel right away.”

“Well, it’s not legal already now.” Casey put the bottle against Lenny’s mouth. “Now drink your medicine, I will drive you when it’s needed.”

Lenny had to drink or drown, some whiskey running down his goatee.

As Casey removed the bottle he said, “Thanks. I guess.”

“I’m your pal, Lenny. You know that. You just have to learn to watch your mouth.”

“But wait, you had a few drinks after our show. Are you allowed to drive?”

“I can handle my liquor better than you, tubby. You know that.”

That’s when the openings riff of Black Sabbath’s Iron Man played, Lenny’s ringtone. He answered it.

“She’s there. Great. Buy her a drink on me. I’m coming over right away,” Lenny said in the phone. He disconnected and told Casey, “I’m in luck. Janey showed up at the Tower Club already.”

“Awesome, let’s roll then,” Casey said. “Give me your keys.”

So a few minutes later they were driving. Lenny prayed no cops would have them stop over, because he had to admit Casey was driving okay, but he figured legally she still had too many an alcohol percentage in her blood for sure.

Casey told him as she was driving and he was shotgun he had to shut his mouth and let her choose the music. Some screaming punkrock girl was shouting about Cosmic Bullshit through his speakers. Not his thing.

Before the third song had set in they were already at the Tower Club. Casey parked the car pretty neatly and they got out.

When they walked in the room, KISS singing about their Love Gun they spotted her right away. She was dancing all by herself, more sensual than any stripper. Short, leather skirt. White tank top. Tattoos of geisha’s, dragons and koi fish all over her slender arms. Lipstick red as blood. Almond eyes. Flawless skin. Bleach blond hair. A beauty.

“Wow, she’s hot. That her, right?” Casey whispered to Lenny.

“Seems to be,” he said.

The bartender nodded to Lenny who gave him a wink.

“What is she drinking?” Lenny asked.

“Jack, on the rocks.”

“Of course,” Lenny said. “Okay, give me two of them.”

“What happened to your face, man?” the bartender asked.

“Walked into one of your customers.”

The bartender nodded. “Think I know which one. Alex. Sorry about that, dude.”

“Yeah.”

“That’s a pretty hot babe you got tagging along. If you can arrange a date with her for me, I don’t need the backstage pass to any rockband, dude.”

Casey leaned over the bar, smiling her sweetest smile at the bartender. “You could just ask the hot babe herself. She’s not deaf.”

The bartender blushed a bit. “Sorry.”

“You can buy me dinner anytime, but you won’t be getting my pussy unless you develop one yourself. Sorry, buster,” Casey told him.

Lenny walked over to Janey with his glass of Jack. “Here, for you.”

She glanced at him like he was some kind of amusing novelty. Then she said, “Sure, why not.” She drained the Jack like a longshoreman. Or someone from an eighties glamrock band.

Lenny smiled. The game was afoot.

TO BE CONTINUED

Free Fiction: Man's Ruin Part Two (A Lenny Parker serial) by Jochem Vandersteen

Lenny Parker, PI / roadie / metalhead is back in a new serial, every new part starting with a metal video. He’s my slightly more humorous version of the PI. He doesn’t exactly know what he’s doing and sure as hell isn’t the martial arts master my Noah Milano is. In the first episode of this new story he was hired to track down the girl who robbed an old buddy of his lottery ticket. Read the first part here.

Lenny walked into the Tower Club, they were just playing some AC/DC. There were about twelve people inside, most older guys with tattoos and two women in their forties with way too much make-up. Behind the bar was a wiry guy with a Black Sabbath T-shirt and a buzzcut.

Lenny sat down at the bar and ordered a beer.

“Nice crowd,” he told the barkeeper.

“Huh?”

“Don’t any younger girls come in here?”

“Sometimes. Mostly weekends. Those ladies are always  here, trying to pick up dudes. Divorced women, you know the type.”

“Sure. I like Asian girls myself. Plus when they wear tattoos.”

“No kidding. That’s creepy,” the barkeeper said.

“Why?”

“There’s a regular here, this Asian chick with blond hair and tats everywhere. Incredibly hot.”

“No kidding. Has she been in today?”

“Last time I saw her was yesterday. Went home with this big dude.”

“She sounds great. Do you know her name?”

“Janey they call her. That dude was pretty big though. You wouldn’t want to get on his bad side, trying to put the moves on the chick.”

“Who says it’s serious now?”

The barkeeper shrugged. “Guess you’ve got a point there. I’ve seen her with a lot of dudes, never the same one.”

“So maybe I could be one of them.”

“Who knows. She never seemed too picky.”

“Was that an insult?”

“Sorry, dude. None intended,” the barkeeper said. “Have a beer on me.”

Lenny wasn’t one to say no to free beer, even when he was investigating.  After a sip of it asked, “Could you give me a call when you see her?” He handed the bartender his business card, not the one for his PI gig but the one that identified him as a roadie.

The bartender had a look at the card. “Roadie, huh? Did you work with any bands I might know?”

“Bad Citizen Corporation?”

“The punk band? Cool. Not sure if I should give you a call when Janey is here, though. That sounds kinda wrong and creepy?”

“All in the name of love, man!”

The bartender laughed. “Okay, maybe. If you get me tickets for the next BCC show then?”

“They’re not playing anymore, but I guarantee you a spot on the guest list for the next Necromantic Poets gig.”

“Never heard of them.”

“No? They’re huge in Japan,” Lenny bluffed.

“Hey, how about some service here?” A muscular dude with graying long hair next to Lenny was apparently annoyed he had to wait to get the bartender’s attention.

The bartender told the guy he was sorry and took his order. It consisted of a large beer and a whiskey back. He downed it in the blink of an eye and ordered another. Lenny slowly finished his own drink and left the place.

As soon he was outside a hand grabbed his shoulder. Lenny turned around. The muscular dude from the bar.

“Yeah?” Lenny asked.

“Heard you asking about Janey. Leave her alone. She’s mine,” the muscular guy said.

“Huh? It’s really not cool to see a woman as property these days, dude.”

Lenny saw the fists coming but wasn’t fast enough to evade it. He rolled his head with the punch a bit, minimalizing the impact as much as possible. He was pretty good at taking punches.

Lenny pushed the man away from him. “Not cool!”

The muscular man punched Lenny in the gut. He was even better at taking a punch there, a result of many days on the road eating fastfood and drinking beer.

“Stop it!” Lenny yelled and hit his attacker in the mouth. Blood trickled from enemy’s face. Lenny followed up with another hard push, putting all his considerable weight behind it. The guy stumbled backwards, lost his balance and landed on his ass.

“Bastard!” the muscular man said.

“Hey, you’re the one who started it.”

The muscular man jumped up, tackling Lenny against the floor. On top of him now he started to punch him in the face. The guy was pretty strong but Lenny had muscles of his own underneath his fat. Dragging along all those heavy amplifiers and stuff had been a better workout than a gym. He heaved the graying man off him with a grunt. A painful crack sounded when his back hit the pavement.

Slowly Lenny got up, feeling the blood drip down his chin. His face hurt like hell. He made his way to his Dodge Ram, not looking back, just getting in. He drove off, dared a glance in the rearview mirror and saw the muscular guy still lying on the floor, shaking an angry fist at him.  

Free Fiction: Man's Ruin Part One (A Lenny Parker serial) by Jochem Vandersteen

Lenny Parker, PI / roadie / metalhead is back in a new serial. He’s my slightly more humorous version of the PI. He doesn’t exactly know what he’s doing and sure as hell isn’t the martial arts master my Noah Milano is. Also, starting with this new serial I will be showing more of my love for metal by posting a link to a metal video that someway is connected to the episode, this time a live performance of Code of the Slashers by death metal legends Cannibal Corpse.

For more Lenny Parker stories look here.

  

Lenny Parker thought his band, The Necromantic Poets, was killing it that night. After their most popular song Zero Tolerance and their new song Maim, Kill, Slaughter they did an encore playing a cover song, Cannibal Corpse’s Code of the Slashers. Lenny had a blast with the steady bassline and how it played off against Casey’s insanely fast drumming. Their aptly-named guitar player Mohawk gave his all with the buzzing riffs and their vocalist Mikey amazed Lenny once again with how gruff and guttural a guy of his stature could sound.

Their audience consisted of roughly only twenty people, the half of which was more interested in drinking their beer or their phones, but that didn’t really matter to him. He just wanted to play and The San Diego Batcave was always happy to give them that chance, offering them as much beer as they wanted as their pay. Didn’t every great metal band start that way?

Lenny was sweating like crazy when he walked off stage, cracking open a beer as he he did, holding it against his head to cool off somewhat. The other band members patted him on the back, telling him how well he played. He told them he was pretty about it himself.

One of their only local fans, a huge dude with even more tattoos than Lenny walked up to him. Keith had made a career out of getting shit-faced and visiting metal shows. He had a day job as a garbage man, nice and honest work that earned him enough money to pay for his habits. He was a pretty stand-up guy. He shook Lenny’s hand. Lenny wasn’t a weakling, but even he had to admit Keith’s grip was pretty strong. Sweaty too.

“Hey man, great show!” Keith told Lenny.

“Thanks, dude. I appreciate it,” Lenny said.

“Next time play Leatherface Should Kill Britney though. I love that one.”

“Yeah, our drummer Casey hates that one. She thinks Britney is hot. Go figure.” Of course Casey had the sexual appetite of a class of sixteen year olds on Viagra.

“Can I buy you a beer?” Keith asked.

“Still finishing this one, but thanks!” Lenny said. He didn’t mention their free beer arrangement with the Batcave so he wouldn’t sound ungrateful.

“Okay, just let me know if you want one. Say, I heard besides working as a roadie you also do some PI work?”

“Yeah, every now and then between tours.”

“I think I can use your services then.”

“No kidding. Tell me more.”

“Let’s have a seat,” Keith said and led Lenny to the bar. They sat down on the barstools, Keith ordering another beer. Casey was downing shots of Tequila with Mohawk. That girl could drink like a fish. Meanwhile, Mikey was talking to some teenage jailbait who was admittedly pretty cute, as he was wont to do.

As the DJ started his death metal mix with some Gojira Keith confided in Lenny. “I got robbed of a million dollars yesterday.”

Lenny’s beer went out through his nose. “What? How much exactly do you make on that garbage truck because maybe I should think about a career change.”

“No, it’s like this… I bought this lottery ticket… And yesterday I went for some drinks in town, met up with this hot Asian chick… We ended up at my place, you know, fucking… Then I saw on the ‘net that my ticket fucking won… A million bucks man, can you believe it? To celebrate we had some more Jack Daniel’s and some weed and fucked some more, you know… At some point I must have fallen asleep and when I wake up my lottery ticket is gone.”

“Wow, that’s some story,” Lenny had to admit. “So you tried to get it back from her?”

“That’s the problem, I don’t know where she is. All I know is she called herself Jade. I want to hire you to find her. I’ll pay you 10% of the prize when you get me the lottery ticket back.”

Lenny whistled. That was a lot of money. Maybe now he could build that home studio he’d been dreaming about. “Sounds good.”

“You’re the only PI I trust with that ticket, man. I know you’re the most stand-up fucking guy in the whole of San Diego.”

“Well, thanks. All right. Can’t say no to a job like that. I’m going to need some more information about this Jade though.”

“Sure. She about five-ten, slender, Asian… Hair dyed silver and she’s like covered with tattoos. And she’s insanely hot.”

“That’s actually a description that should get me somewhere,” Lenny had to admit. “Where did you meet her?”

“Dive bar called the Tower Club, you know that one? I walked in for a little nightcap after a show here and when I saw her dancing by herself, holding a vodka in one hand and an unlit cigarette in the other I just knew I had to have her. The way she moved, the way those tattooed legs looked in the Daisy Dukes she was wearing… Dude, she was something.”

“All right. She tell you anything about where she worked or lived. Or something about her family?”

“No man, it wasn’t that kind of night, you know? I just know she liked rough sex and prime weed.”

“Right. Of course. Well, I guess that’s a start. Sounds like I should start at The Tower Club then.”

Keith squeezed Lenny’s shoulder. Lenny winced. “Thanks, dude! Thanks!”

It had been a tiring night but for the kind of dough that was to be earned with this job Lenny figured he shouldn’t waste any more time and as the DJ segued into Iron Maiden’s Number of the Beast he walked out the door, ready to play the PI.

TO BE CONTINUED