ohdittoh
still kicking :)
LINDSAY MORGAN KAY
Bass-boosted-to-the-point-of-being-virtually-unintelligible music blaring on his boombox, yellow duck-patterned fluffy socks on his feet, a pink feather boa knotted creatively around his comically large neon green shutter shades to keep them anchored to his face, and his hair gel gripped like a microphone in his cheeto-dusted hands, the half-dressed Lindsay Kay screeched the lyrics to “Billie Jean” offkey and offbeat as he ran from one corner of his house to another in a game with his tiny dog that only the two of them understood. Across the counter and the island was flour, strewn in messy clusters from…uh, was it last Wednesday that Lin’d had a one day fixation on making beignets? Well, it was sometime…but then he’d eaten them all in, like, ten minutes, and then he’d wanted to make some more, but then he just started eating some Cheez-Its ‘cuz he was still hungry, and so he just lost all interest in the beignets. Flour-inked pawprints dotted the floor and the bottoms of the cabinets and the carpet and the loveseat and literally all of the furniture, and some flour-inked human prints were right there beside them. As a matter of fact, on the, ya know, half of the outfit that Lin hadn’t wound up putting on yet – his jeans, and his bomb ass leather jacket – lay on the floor with an array of floury pawprints up and down them.
But Lin didn’t care. Duh. He was Lindsay fucking Kay, so he gave zero fucks.
The party was gonna be lit tonight, Lin knew, and Lin was never wrong, so he was fuckin’ hype, dude. New Year’s Eve parties always were – and they always required a lil’ bit of pregaming, too, which was what Lin was doing, in his own Linny way, right now, as he took a stop from his dancing for a moment, calling a time-out with his hands and his voice and reaching into the sink for a handful of sour gummy worms and Swedish Fish.
Of course, this little pitstop distracted him, and he glanced down at the dog, who lapped at his ankles, and cackled. He stooped down to pet her as another song drew to another close, and his hand had almost reached out and touched her head when –
Knock-knock.
The beginning to “Blinding Lights” cut in abruptly. Confusedly knitting his brows and standing up from his stooped position, he asked his dog, “Was that a knock?” He peeked his head around the corner, as if seeing his door would give him any clue as to who was coming over.
Knock-knock.
That was a knock. “Bishi, did you invite someone over?” He grinned vaguely, rolling his eyes. Well, if someone was knocking at this time, it was probably his stupid old bitchy neighbor. “Delored DeLaney, that you?” he yelled, over his blaring music, and, cackling, he gripped the doorknob in a hand. “I told you, dude, my shit fuckin’ slaps, so th –”
He stopped dead in his tracks, the blood freezing in his veins as he peered up into a face that was sickeningly familiar yet extremely out of place. The image of the person was obscured by the shutters on Lin’s sunglasses, and he slowly – shakingly – reached up and yanked them from his face. His boa gave a pop, and half of it fell to the ground, slowly sinking, and until it hit the floor, Lin could not think, or talk, or move.
And then, his mind reeling, Lin could only stammer out a breathy, “D-Dad?”
Ricky’s pale blue eyes bore into him sternly. He wore no expression, and it made Lin’s mouth run dry. Ricky’s gaze didn’t leave Lin’s face, and Lin instinctively shrunk back, suddenly conscious of what he was wearing. “Go get dressed,” he said, his voice cold, “and get in the car.”
Lin still couldn’t process it. “What?” His voice was hollow and sounded to him like he was speaking into a pillow; he could hardly even hear the sound resonating in his head. “What are you doing –”
“Get dressed and get in the car.” Ricky’s voice was demanding, entirely cool and crisp and cutting. “Now.”
Lin always told everyone that he wasn’t afraid of “pussy bitch Pricky Worstbastard”. That the guy was an asshole who thought he owned everything and was owed everything in the world and thought that the world revolved around him but he really had no bite and he would lose in a fight with Lin – and yeah, duh, Lin would fight him, would punch him right in that fucking bitchass maw, because he wasn’t afraid of him.
But Lin was terrified. And right now, he couldn’t move, and everything felt like jelly, and the man in front of him felt like a hawk who already had him in his talons.
“Dad?” he repeated, and he swallowed hard, shaking his head. “Dad, no, it’s – I – there’s this –”
“Get dressed and get in my car, son.” Though his tone didn’t change and his expression betrayed now more emotion than the one before, Ricky was somehow more forceful there, and it felt like Lin was being constricted. “Right now.”
Lin was shaking. It registered with him that he was, and then it also registered with him that his dog was whimpering, nosing at his ankles. In the background, revealing that Lin had been standing here for far longer than he thought he had, there was silence from the boombox, and with a quivering finger, Lin tapped the pause button on his watch. He looked down at his dog, hardly able to breathe, “Bishi, go to your cage,” and he struggled to stay upright as he quickly and waveringly started to walk the dog to her cage.
He followed her to her large cage in the kitchen, trying to suppress all of the emotion in his chest – the confusion, the anger, the everything – as he fought hard to breathe. As he reached out to open the cage for her, he felt a tight grip on his shoulder, and he froze again.
“I said, pull your damned clothes on and get to my vehicle right now, Lindsay.” And the clothes he’d had sitting out fell down in front of him, on the floor beside his dog as the grip relinquished. “If you want to even be able to ever so much as consider seeing sunlight again.”
Lin wasn’t sure how he got from there to his father’s vehicle, but when he became conscious of what he was doing again, his now fully-clothed body was shaking against the leather seats, curled up as small as he could get it as he stared at the window remotes on the door. If he were in any Lin-ish state of mind, he would reach out and start to mess with the windows, but something wouldn’t let him, demanded that he sit still and wouldn’t let him do anything aside from that. He was suctioned to the seat. He hugged his body tightly with his sweaty hands, his mind and heart racing with a million questions and a million fears. Across from him sat the muscled man who he knew as one of the bodyguards of his father’s, and beside him sat his father’s assistant.
Of course. Ricky couldn’t go anywhere without them, even to see his son.
The door opened, and Lin looked up to see Ricky entering the back of the shining black limo. Adjusting the cufflinks of his tailored suit as he sank into the leather seat across from his son, Ricky turned, with a sigh, and commanded the driver to, “Drive.” For a few moments, he settled in the seat.
And then, he turned his cold, sharp eyes to Lin and said, “You are done in Los Angeles, Lindsay.”
Lin felt something shatter in him.
“What?” he asked hollowly, searching his father’s stoney expression for any sign that Lin had misheard what had come out of his mouth.
“I gave you your warning,” Ricky said, breathing a sigh and looking once more at his cufflinks. “One more stunt like that, and you were out. You said that you understood me. Do you remember?” His piercing blue eyes shifted back to Lin. “I gave you your warning.”
Lin was still reeling. No. No, this was impossible, this – no. He struggled in a breath, staring dumbfoundedly at the man in front of him. “Dad, what?”
“I warned you.” Ricky’s voice was entirely devoid of any of the sunniness that always sounded so forced, empty of any attempt at pretending to be anything at all right now. He spoke coolly, distantly. He didn’t raise his voice, and his tone was unwavering.
He was angry, and Lin was terrified.
“I warned you,” Ricky said, “and yet, you piss all over my image by being a complete ass at that…foolish, idiotic ‘dance’ to the paparazzi that I have repeatedly told you decide whether we will lead lives of success or one of ruin. I told you that it was my reputation that also rested on your back, and you do…that.” He lifted his hand to his head, breathing out a deep sigh and closing his eyes. “And I have to fix your mess, Lindsay. It is too much.” He opened his eyes, setting his gaze back on Lin’s as Lin’s lungs trembled, his body shaking. “And so, you are done,” Ricky said, voice final.
Ricky’s image quivered. The corners of Lin’s vision blackened. “No,” Lin said. “No, Dad. No, no, you can’t, I –”
“You have done this to yourself.” His father sat up straighter, looking down his nose at Lin. “It’s no one’s fault but your own.”
Lin shook his head frantically. “Dad,” he said, looking into Ricky’s unwavering, icy gaze, trying desperately to reach him. “Dad, no, Dad,” he pleaded, “Dad, I have –” He struggled for air, and for a few moments, he tried to steady his breathing. The world around him warped beneath a veil of tears, and he pressed his tongue hard to the roof of his mouth to try and force them back.
“Charlie,” he said finally, lifting his eyes to his dad again. When he said her name, his voice almost broke. He shook his head. “Charlie, Dad, I can’t – and Zeph, and – and Mitsubishi – and – and –”
Ricky heaved a sigh, his gaze thoroughly unamused. “Do you expect me to pity you?” he asked. He looked over at Lin. “You’ve done this to yourself,” he repeated. “This is your own fault, son.”
“No.” Lin clenched his teeth, looked up at his dad again. A tear spilled over the edge of eyes. His body shook. He wanted to punch Ricky, to scream, to lose his mind. “No, Dad.” His voice broke. “No, I –”
“You’re crying now?” Ricky’s cold voice was tired. He breathed a sigh, and Lin clutched his stomach, looking away from him. “You aren’t proving to me anything to me with tears, son, beyond that you can’t accept the consequences of your own actions,” Ricky said. “You’re just showing that you’re no better than that whimpering little spayed mutt you had.” He clicked his tongue. “Crying about what you’ve done to yourself? Mourning the loss of…what, this thing, this life that I gave you because you forgot that it wasn’t yours to begin with?” Here, his voice rose a bit, for the first time since the start. When Lin looked over to him, he could see a hateful look in his eyes, and Lin shrunk back, hugging himself tightly as he tried to shove back the tears.
He felt his father stare at him for a long moment. Squeezing his eyes shut, Lin begged to be anywhere but here, anywhere but here. He wanted to be back in his room, or in a room at the party, or, hell, in his bed, having an awful fucking nightmare that he’d wake from any second.
Look away, fuckhead, Lin pleaded as tears wrenched from his eyes. I get it, you fucking hate me, you fucking want to ruin my life – isn’t that fucking enough?
“You’re an idiot,” Ricky spat, and Lin flinched. “Tears. Tch. I knew that there was nothing even remotely manish about you. You’re an embarrassment.” There was a pause, and Lin felt Ricky’s eyes boring into his skull again. “And you wonder why I don’t want to claim you as my son…”
Lin, angry, clenched his teeth, lifting his eyes to look at his father. When he met his father’s gaze, he opened his mouth to give him a piece of his fucking mind.
But his lip quivered, and all of his strength folded. He gasped painfully, squeezing his eyes shut, and weakly, he begged, “Dad, please.”
“What?” his father asked flatly. “What more do you want?”
“Just…” Lin lifted his eyes, his tear-soaked cheeks burning as he looked his father in the eyes. “Just one chance. Just – just one –”
“I knew you would ask that.” Ricky breathed out a long sigh, shifting back against the leather seat. He propped his elbow up on the top of the leather seat beside him, holding his head up with his hand. He closed his eyes, and for a long moment, he just sat like that. “Look, Lindsay,” he said finally, his voice low, “I’m already tired of this. I’m an exhausted, busy man, and the last thing that I truly wanted to do with the little time that I have in the day was come and haul the ass of my useless…” He dropped his hand, lolling his head back. “Whatever. I am too tired...”
He opened his eyes, turning them back onto Lin. “The short is that the things are getting finalized, Lindsay. Meg has been contacted about all of this, and I’m working things out with the school. Things have to get…wrapped up. If you truly want to convince me to let you stay, you have more than just today. But I highly doubt that you can do anything, Lindsay.” He worked his jaw. “You’re a shitstain on the bottom of my shoe, as far as I’m concerned…” He breathed out a sigh, closing his eyes again. “I’m always so eager for you to convince me otherwise.”
“I’ll do it,” Lin said determinedly, without a second of hesitation.
I will fucking do it, he promised himself.
If he was leaving LA and leaving this damn career that he’d worked so hard to build, then he was leaving as a dead body, luhmao.
“You’re going to be staying with Isa and I, for now,” Ricky explained tiredly, “and in our house, you won’t be using your phone, and you won’t be – well, you won’t be leaving. You’ll do your schoolwork online, and I’m having your usage of your devices closely monitored. No more social media. No more wiley internet usage. You will do your schoolwork, and that’s it. Those are my rules. You have always been living under my rules, and those are the rules now, and unless you can convince to me that it should be anything but those rules, that is how it will be until you’re shipped back to…you know.”
Lin could’ve been told any conditions, and he would have complied – because this wasn’t the fucking end of him, and what was a little bit more of a challenge, luhmao? “I will,” Lin said, sure.
“That’s not how you answer that,” said Ricky, his flat voice unamused.
“I…” Lin breathed out a sigh, setting his face. “Yes, sir."
And also, suck my dick.
But Lin didn’t care. Duh. He was Lindsay fucking Kay, so he gave zero fucks.
The party was gonna be lit tonight, Lin knew, and Lin was never wrong, so he was fuckin’ hype, dude. New Year’s Eve parties always were – and they always required a lil’ bit of pregaming, too, which was what Lin was doing, in his own Linny way, right now, as he took a stop from his dancing for a moment, calling a time-out with his hands and his voice and reaching into the sink for a handful of sour gummy worms and Swedish Fish.
Of course, this little pitstop distracted him, and he glanced down at the dog, who lapped at his ankles, and cackled. He stooped down to pet her as another song drew to another close, and his hand had almost reached out and touched her head when –
Knock-knock.
The beginning to “Blinding Lights” cut in abruptly. Confusedly knitting his brows and standing up from his stooped position, he asked his dog, “Was that a knock?” He peeked his head around the corner, as if seeing his door would give him any clue as to who was coming over.
Knock-knock.
That was a knock. “Bishi, did you invite someone over?” He grinned vaguely, rolling his eyes. Well, if someone was knocking at this time, it was probably his stupid old bitchy neighbor. “Delored DeLaney, that you?” he yelled, over his blaring music, and, cackling, he gripped the doorknob in a hand. “I told you, dude, my shit fuckin’ slaps, so th –”
He stopped dead in his tracks, the blood freezing in his veins as he peered up into a face that was sickeningly familiar yet extremely out of place. The image of the person was obscured by the shutters on Lin’s sunglasses, and he slowly – shakingly – reached up and yanked them from his face. His boa gave a pop, and half of it fell to the ground, slowly sinking, and until it hit the floor, Lin could not think, or talk, or move.
And then, his mind reeling, Lin could only stammer out a breathy, “D-Dad?”
Ricky’s pale blue eyes bore into him sternly. He wore no expression, and it made Lin’s mouth run dry. Ricky’s gaze didn’t leave Lin’s face, and Lin instinctively shrunk back, suddenly conscious of what he was wearing. “Go get dressed,” he said, his voice cold, “and get in the car.”
Lin still couldn’t process it. “What?” His voice was hollow and sounded to him like he was speaking into a pillow; he could hardly even hear the sound resonating in his head. “What are you doing –”
“Get dressed and get in the car.” Ricky’s voice was demanding, entirely cool and crisp and cutting. “Now.”
Lin always told everyone that he wasn’t afraid of “pussy bitch Pricky Worstbastard”. That the guy was an asshole who thought he owned everything and was owed everything in the world and thought that the world revolved around him but he really had no bite and he would lose in a fight with Lin – and yeah, duh, Lin would fight him, would punch him right in that fucking bitchass maw, because he wasn’t afraid of him.
But Lin was terrified. And right now, he couldn’t move, and everything felt like jelly, and the man in front of him felt like a hawk who already had him in his talons.
“Dad?” he repeated, and he swallowed hard, shaking his head. “Dad, no, it’s – I – there’s this –”
“Get dressed and get in my car, son.” Though his tone didn’t change and his expression betrayed now more emotion than the one before, Ricky was somehow more forceful there, and it felt like Lin was being constricted. “Right now.”
Lin was shaking. It registered with him that he was, and then it also registered with him that his dog was whimpering, nosing at his ankles. In the background, revealing that Lin had been standing here for far longer than he thought he had, there was silence from the boombox, and with a quivering finger, Lin tapped the pause button on his watch. He looked down at his dog, hardly able to breathe, “Bishi, go to your cage,” and he struggled to stay upright as he quickly and waveringly started to walk the dog to her cage.
He followed her to her large cage in the kitchen, trying to suppress all of the emotion in his chest – the confusion, the anger, the everything – as he fought hard to breathe. As he reached out to open the cage for her, he felt a tight grip on his shoulder, and he froze again.
“I said, pull your damned clothes on and get to my vehicle right now, Lindsay.” And the clothes he’d had sitting out fell down in front of him, on the floor beside his dog as the grip relinquished. “If you want to even be able to ever so much as consider seeing sunlight again.”
Lin wasn’t sure how he got from there to his father’s vehicle, but when he became conscious of what he was doing again, his now fully-clothed body was shaking against the leather seats, curled up as small as he could get it as he stared at the window remotes on the door. If he were in any Lin-ish state of mind, he would reach out and start to mess with the windows, but something wouldn’t let him, demanded that he sit still and wouldn’t let him do anything aside from that. He was suctioned to the seat. He hugged his body tightly with his sweaty hands, his mind and heart racing with a million questions and a million fears. Across from him sat the muscled man who he knew as one of the bodyguards of his father’s, and beside him sat his father’s assistant.
Of course. Ricky couldn’t go anywhere without them, even to see his son.
The door opened, and Lin looked up to see Ricky entering the back of the shining black limo. Adjusting the cufflinks of his tailored suit as he sank into the leather seat across from his son, Ricky turned, with a sigh, and commanded the driver to, “Drive.” For a few moments, he settled in the seat.
And then, he turned his cold, sharp eyes to Lin and said, “You are done in Los Angeles, Lindsay.”
Lin felt something shatter in him.
“What?” he asked hollowly, searching his father’s stoney expression for any sign that Lin had misheard what had come out of his mouth.
“I gave you your warning,” Ricky said, breathing a sigh and looking once more at his cufflinks. “One more stunt like that, and you were out. You said that you understood me. Do you remember?” His piercing blue eyes shifted back to Lin. “I gave you your warning.”
Lin was still reeling. No. No, this was impossible, this – no. He struggled in a breath, staring dumbfoundedly at the man in front of him. “Dad, what?”
“I warned you.” Ricky’s voice was entirely devoid of any of the sunniness that always sounded so forced, empty of any attempt at pretending to be anything at all right now. He spoke coolly, distantly. He didn’t raise his voice, and his tone was unwavering.
He was angry, and Lin was terrified.
“I warned you,” Ricky said, “and yet, you piss all over my image by being a complete ass at that…foolish, idiotic ‘dance’ to the paparazzi that I have repeatedly told you decide whether we will lead lives of success or one of ruin. I told you that it was my reputation that also rested on your back, and you do…that.” He lifted his hand to his head, breathing out a deep sigh and closing his eyes. “And I have to fix your mess, Lindsay. It is too much.” He opened his eyes, setting his gaze back on Lin’s as Lin’s lungs trembled, his body shaking. “And so, you are done,” Ricky said, voice final.
Ricky’s image quivered. The corners of Lin’s vision blackened. “No,” Lin said. “No, Dad. No, no, you can’t, I –”
“You have done this to yourself.” His father sat up straighter, looking down his nose at Lin. “It’s no one’s fault but your own.”
Lin shook his head frantically. “Dad,” he said, looking into Ricky’s unwavering, icy gaze, trying desperately to reach him. “Dad, no, Dad,” he pleaded, “Dad, I have –” He struggled for air, and for a few moments, he tried to steady his breathing. The world around him warped beneath a veil of tears, and he pressed his tongue hard to the roof of his mouth to try and force them back.
“Charlie,” he said finally, lifting his eyes to his dad again. When he said her name, his voice almost broke. He shook his head. “Charlie, Dad, I can’t – and Zeph, and – and Mitsubishi – and – and –”
Ricky heaved a sigh, his gaze thoroughly unamused. “Do you expect me to pity you?” he asked. He looked over at Lin. “You’ve done this to yourself,” he repeated. “This is your own fault, son.”
“No.” Lin clenched his teeth, looked up at his dad again. A tear spilled over the edge of eyes. His body shook. He wanted to punch Ricky, to scream, to lose his mind. “No, Dad.” His voice broke. “No, I –”
“You’re crying now?” Ricky’s cold voice was tired. He breathed a sigh, and Lin clutched his stomach, looking away from him. “You aren’t proving to me anything to me with tears, son, beyond that you can’t accept the consequences of your own actions,” Ricky said. “You’re just showing that you’re no better than that whimpering little spayed mutt you had.” He clicked his tongue. “Crying about what you’ve done to yourself? Mourning the loss of…what, this thing, this life that I gave you because you forgot that it wasn’t yours to begin with?” Here, his voice rose a bit, for the first time since the start. When Lin looked over to him, he could see a hateful look in his eyes, and Lin shrunk back, hugging himself tightly as he tried to shove back the tears.
He felt his father stare at him for a long moment. Squeezing his eyes shut, Lin begged to be anywhere but here, anywhere but here. He wanted to be back in his room, or in a room at the party, or, hell, in his bed, having an awful fucking nightmare that he’d wake from any second.
Look away, fuckhead, Lin pleaded as tears wrenched from his eyes. I get it, you fucking hate me, you fucking want to ruin my life – isn’t that fucking enough?
“You’re an idiot,” Ricky spat, and Lin flinched. “Tears. Tch. I knew that there was nothing even remotely manish about you. You’re an embarrassment.” There was a pause, and Lin felt Ricky’s eyes boring into his skull again. “And you wonder why I don’t want to claim you as my son…”
Lin, angry, clenched his teeth, lifting his eyes to look at his father. When he met his father’s gaze, he opened his mouth to give him a piece of his fucking mind.
But his lip quivered, and all of his strength folded. He gasped painfully, squeezing his eyes shut, and weakly, he begged, “Dad, please.”
“What?” his father asked flatly. “What more do you want?”
“Just…” Lin lifted his eyes, his tear-soaked cheeks burning as he looked his father in the eyes. “Just one chance. Just – just one –”
“I knew you would ask that.” Ricky breathed out a long sigh, shifting back against the leather seat. He propped his elbow up on the top of the leather seat beside him, holding his head up with his hand. He closed his eyes, and for a long moment, he just sat like that. “Look, Lindsay,” he said finally, his voice low, “I’m already tired of this. I’m an exhausted, busy man, and the last thing that I truly wanted to do with the little time that I have in the day was come and haul the ass of my useless…” He dropped his hand, lolling his head back. “Whatever. I am too tired...”
He opened his eyes, turning them back onto Lin. “The short is that the things are getting finalized, Lindsay. Meg has been contacted about all of this, and I’m working things out with the school. Things have to get…wrapped up. If you truly want to convince me to let you stay, you have more than just today. But I highly doubt that you can do anything, Lindsay.” He worked his jaw. “You’re a shitstain on the bottom of my shoe, as far as I’m concerned…” He breathed out a sigh, closing his eyes again. “I’m always so eager for you to convince me otherwise.”
“I’ll do it,” Lin said determinedly, without a second of hesitation.
I will fucking do it, he promised himself.
If he was leaving LA and leaving this damn career that he’d worked so hard to build, then he was leaving as a dead body, luhmao.
“You’re going to be staying with Isa and I, for now,” Ricky explained tiredly, “and in our house, you won’t be using your phone, and you won’t be – well, you won’t be leaving. You’ll do your schoolwork online, and I’m having your usage of your devices closely monitored. No more social media. No more wiley internet usage. You will do your schoolwork, and that’s it. Those are my rules. You have always been living under my rules, and those are the rules now, and unless you can convince to me that it should be anything but those rules, that is how it will be until you’re shipped back to…you know.”
Lin could’ve been told any conditions, and he would have complied – because this wasn’t the fucking end of him, and what was a little bit more of a challenge, luhmao? “I will,” Lin said, sure.
“That’s not how you answer that,” said Ricky, his flat voice unamused.
“I…” Lin breathed out a sigh, setting his face. “Yes, sir."
And also, suck my dick.
