Page 157 of Forbidden Billionaires: Vol. 10

Friday

A million years ago again

“No, we need to climb it,” Mason said as he stared up at the John Harvard statue. “And sit on his little head.”

I couldn’t stop laughing. “So you want to sit on his head like you’re his hat?”

“Exactly. Because he’s not wearing one. Why the fuck isn’t he wearing a hat?”

Matt and Rob started laughing with me. Mason had been sober for over a month.

And from how fucked up we usually were before his season started…

getting back to that level after being clean had its consequences.

The main one being that Mason wanted to sit on the head of the John Harvard statue like a little hat.

“But it’s better than a hat,” Mason said.

“How exactly?” The cool autumn breeze blew and I shivered. Actually, maybe a hat didn’t seem like such a bad idea right now.

“It’ll be like a double decker John Harvard statue. Because I’m going to make the same pose as him. I’ll put my feet on his arms.”

“Why the fuck?” Matt asked.

“Because! You’ll see. Help me up.”

I wasn’t going to not help him up. My feet crunched in leaves as I walked over to the base of the statue. I put my hands out for him. Mason slid his foot into my hands and I hoisted him up.

He somehow gracefully got onto the cement block at the statue’s feet. But the gracefulness stopped there. He tried to climb onto John Harvard’s lap but kept sliding back down.

“Why is it so slippy?!” he yelled.

Rob was bent over laughing. “Did he just say slippy instead of slippery?”

Matt tried to say something, but I couldn’t make it out through his laughter.

“Do they wax this thing or something?” Mason asked, as if any of us would randomly know the answer to his question. “So. Slippy.”

“Stop saying slippy!” Rob said.

“NEVER!” Mason tried once more and somehow ended up sliding onto the statue’s lap.

“You look like a little baby,” Rob said through his fit of laughter.

“You look very little from my vantage point, son,” Mason said in a weirdly deep voice in an undiscernible accent.

“Was John Harvard Scottish?” Matt asked.

“That was definitely not a Scottish accent,” I said in a much better Scottish accent. Which just made us all laugh harder.

“I did it!” Mason yelled.

We all looked up. Mason was sitting on the top of John Harvard’s head. I swear he’d just been in the statue’s lap. How did he get up there so fast? Especially when the statue was so fucking slippy .

“How in the hell?” Rob asked.

“Bow to me, peasants!” Mason yelled and spread out his arms.

“I need a picture of this.” Matt pulled out his cell phone and snapped a photo.

“I’m king of Harvard now!”

“I don’t think John Harvard was the king of the university,” Rob said.

“Bow. To. Me!” Mason lifted his arms again as he tried to stand up on the statue.

“Dude, don’t…” Matt started.

But it was way too late. Mason immediately fell forward on the slippery ass statue and crashed down onto us. All four of us somehow wound up on the sidewalk groaning.

“Fuck,” Mason said. He put his hand on my upper thigh as he tried to stand up.

I shoved him off of me. “Watch the package, man.”

Mason laughed. “Oh my God. I know what we need to do. I need a package so bad.”

Rob, Matt, and I all stared at each other.

“Good, sir,” Rob said in a Scottish accent that wasn’t nearly as good as mine. “Pray tell. What the fuck do you want to do with another man’s junk?”

“What?” Mason said.

“You just said you need a package so bad.”

“Yeah I did.” He put out his hand to help Matt up.

Matt did not take his hand. “You can’t have mine.”

“What are you idiots talking about?” Mason asked.

I stood up and brushed off the back of my jeans. “Mason, you touched my upper thigh and then said you need a package so bad.”

Mason laughed. “Wow. No. I don’t want your package. Hunter dicks,” he said with a laugh. “Tiny baby penises.”

Matt started laughing.

“Projecting,” Rob coughed into his arm.

“I need it!” Mason yelled.

“Is he asking one of us to molly whop him or something? Because nose goes.” Rob touched his nose.

Matt and I both touched our noses too.

“You lost!” Matt yelled and pointed at me. “Molly whop Mason so he shuts up.”

“I’m not molly whopping anyone with facial hair.”

“So if he was smooth shaven you’d do it?”

“You know what I meant, Matt!”

Mason started laughing harder. “No. I don’t want that.”

“Then why do you keep asking for it?” Rob said.

“I meant I need the whole package. Of the woman variety. I need to put my dick in all the holes. Female holes. There’s three of them.” He got a big goofy grin on his face.

“Aren’t you not supposed to be doing that?” Matt asked.

“Aren’t you not supposed to be doing that?” Mason mimicked back in a very incoherent way.

Matt laughed. “That’s not at all how I sound.”

“Ah!” Rob yelled at the top of his lungs. “Speaking of holes, we’re late.”

“For what?” I asked.

“The soiree. There will be holes for Mason there. Come on.” He tapped Mason’s chest and started walking away.

“Did we agree to that?” Matt called after him. “I don’t remember agreeing to that. Or…maybe I do.”

“Did we agree to that?” Mason mimicked again with weird shoulder attitude this time.

“Dude, stop doing that.”

“Dude, stop doing that. Bloink!” He lightly slapped both of Matt’s cheeks at the same time and made a farting noise.

***

I wasn’t even sure how it happened. My memory just jumped to the four of us in an empty white room.

“I’m confused,” Mason said. “I see no holes. Dicks need holes, Rob.” He groaned and looked up at the ceiling. “I need a hole!”

“Yeah,” Rob said. “I’m confused too. Why did they send us in here?”

“How did we even get here?” Matt put his hands on the walls. “What is here? What even is life?” He banged his head against the wall.

Well, Matt was having a moment.

He banged his head again.

I pulled him away from the wall to stop him from getting a concussion.

“The door is locked!” Mason yelled. “We’re going to die in here without getting laid one last time!”

The door immediately opened. I was pretty sure it hadn’t been locked at all. I laughed. Doorknobs . Who the hell thought of putting a knob on a door? I laughed again. A knob was such a stupid thing to put on a wooden board.

An older man walked into the room wearing a beret that he had no business wearing.

“Aha! You’ve arrived. Just in time too.” He snapped his fingers and a woman came running in with a clipboard and a plastic bag. She handed him the bag and then ran off just as quickly as she’d come.

“Here are your outfits,” he said. “You have two minutes to change and then please make your way into the party. Any questions?” He pushed the bag into Mason’s hands.

“I have questions,” Mason said as he stared into the bag. “But also…I was a hat earlier.”

“Um. Okay,” the man said. “Just change and shimmy on out to the party.” He turned on his heel and left the room.

“I didn’t know there was a dress code,” Rob said. “You think she would have mentioned that.” He peered into the bag that Mason was holding. “Oh. Shit.”

“What?” I asked and looked into the bag. I plucked out a big fig leaf. “What the hell is this?”

“What the hell is anything?” Matt said with a big sigh.

Rob laughed. “Now that I think about it, she did mention something about posing. And needing four guys to do it.”

“Posing for…what?” I asked.

“For art, man. What else would we be posing for?”

“You didn’t think this was important to mention?”

“I forgot. I’m high.”

I laughed. “This isn’t an outfit though.”

“It must be a tasteful nude painting,” Rob said. “I’m guessing we put the fig leaves over our junk.”

“I’m not doing this,” I said.

“Ready,” Mason said. He’d already stripped out of his clothes and was holding a fig leaf in front of his dick. “What?” he said when he noticed I was staring. “Being naked is one step closer to getting that pussy. I bet there are some hot girls in there.”

I turned back to Rob. “Are they going to be selling this painting or something? Where is it going to wind up? And how many people are out there?”

“Eh.” Rob shrugged. “Who cares. Matt, stop stroking the wall and take your clothes off.”

“Okay,” Matt said and pulled off his shirt.

“This is a really weird thing to do on a Friday night,” I said.

“It’s a soiree,” Rob said, as if that made it not weird. “You’re just not getting it.” He started to strip.

“Yeah, get on our level, James,” Mason said, dead serious.

I laughed. “Fine. Whatever. But one of us is buying this painting when the night is over.” I pulled my shirt off over my head.

“I’ll buy it,” Matt said. “I like art.”

It didn’t seem like he liked art based on the frown on his face.

And I was wondering if this had anything to do with all the portraits he’d painted that were locked in his bedroom closet.

I cleared my throat. We weren’t talking about that tonight.

Or ever. I’d given Matt my word. “Just as long as this painting doesn’t end up in a museum somewhere. ”

“I’d look good in a museum,” Mason said. “Maybe we can sell the photo of me owning the John Harvard statue.”

That is not how I would have described what happened. I pushed off my jeans and boxers, grabbed a leaf, and put it over my junk.

“Let’s do this,” Mason said. He grabbed the doorknob. “Ah, it’s locked!”

Rob walked to his side and easily opened the door. “You’re so high, man.”

“No, I’m sober. For the game.”

The rest of us looked at each other. Did Mason actually think he was sober right now?

Rob cleared his throat. “Sure. Whatever you say. Arts and crafts time!”

The four of us left the room, and for some reason we walked in a single file line down the hallway.

“Wait, where did Mr. Beret say to go?” Rob asked.

“He said to shimmy on out to the party,” Matt said from far away.

I turned around and he was just standing there staring at the wall outside the room we’d been in. I backtracked and linked my arm through his.

Matt laughed. “For an art party, there is very little color here.”