Kompera
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Blackmailed
🕑 Added 2022-06-30 22:09:01 +0000 UTCNote: This is a story-prompt for Wyld.
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“And that’s my leg routine.” James gave his signature crooked smile. He was standing opposite his tripod in the spare room he had set up in his apartment for filming. He was wearing only a small pair of briefs, but most of his videos were done half-naked these days. It added to the retention rate, and by extension, his income. “I know I don’t usually go into my workout routine a lot, but if you want more of this type of content, let me know. And be sure to like, comment, and subscribe.”
At twenty-five, James was an online personality, model, and adult entertainer. He had a decent following — decent enough to pay his bills. His career as a content creator was becoming his life, and he didn’t mind it.
James finished the video and walked over to the camera, turning it off. He smiled to himself, absently scratching at his lean abs. James loved showing off his toned body. As far as he was concerned, he’d died and gone to heaven with this gig.
James’ phone chimed. He walked over to a table in the corner of the room and lifted it, throwing a glance at the screen. It looked like he had a text from an unfamiliar number. Raising his eyebrows, James unlocked the phone and opened the message.
It said: I know what you did. And if you don’t want the rest of the world to know, you will meet me tomorrow morning, 9 o’clock, at Donna’s Diner in The Village.
James felt tension shoot into his shoulders and down his spine. A lump rose to his throat, and grew there, making it hard to breathe. But he knew he was overreacting. This could mean anything, he assured himself. It could be some practical joke. It’s probably just Steve messing with me.
But James’ sense of dread continued to swell, resulting in a long night of tossing and turning in his bed, unable to sleep. By morning, he had dark circles under his eyes, and knew he couldn’t film today. Not looking like this. Choking down a stale cup of coffee, James got dressed in a T-shirt and some sweat pants, then headed to the diner, which was only a short subway ride from his apartment.
Just as James walked into the diner, he received another text from the unfamiliar number.
Table in the back corner.
James looked around. His eyes found the aforementioned table, where a guy was seated in a booth. He looked to be older than James, maybe in his thirties. He seemed stockier and a little taller. He was dressed in what James would describe as business casual. Some jeans and a crisp button-down shirt.
“Take a seat,” said the guy as James approached. He was practically leering.
James swallowed as he sat down opposite the stranger. “Hi…” he said awkwardly, trying to keep things amiable. “Do we know each other, or…?”
“No. But I’m a big fan of yours.”
“Right…” said James uneasily. He didn’t like the rapt way this guy was looking at him.
“My name is Brian,” he said. “I heard you lived in the city. Managed to get your number. You have a great online presence and an even better body, but I was interested in offering some…input.”
James gave him an incredulous look. “That’s not exactly how this works.” He tried not to sound too irritated.
“I know about the competition,” Brian mentioned, causing James’ heart to plummet down into his stomach. “Isn’t that how you got that initial modeling contract? The one that jumpstarted your whole career? I wonder what would happen if people found out how you cheated. The way you drugged Tim Johnson. He was a shoo-in to win, wasn’t he? Some might consider that poisoning. You know, criminal behavior. Certainly the legal system.” Brian gave a sinister smile as the waitress came over. “I’ll just have a coffee. Black.”
She smiled and nodded, then turned to James, who couldn’t really register her presence, let alone produce words.
“Can you come back?” Brian asked her. “My friend needs a little more time to decide.”
“Sure thing,” she said cheerfully before bounding off with her notepad.
Brian returned his attention to James. “So what do you say? Nothing too serious. Just take a little instruction here and there. And meet me once a week right at this diner to chat some more.”
James swallowed hard. He managed to find his voice. “What do you want?” he said quietly.
The guy reached for something on the bench beside him. James noticed a large duffel bag perched there. The guy pulled out what looked like a soda can, but it was black and completely unmarked. He handed it over to James who raised his eyebrows.
“Call it a nutritional shake. Drink it.”
“You can’t be…serious?”
“As serious as you are about not ending up in jail and losing your endorsements.”
James’ cheeks burned. Resignedly, he popped the can, and began to chug it. He almost choked at the flavor, despising the sweet vanilla taste, and the grainy thickness. There was also a chemical aftertaste, but he forced the whole can down in seconds. Afterwards he grimaced. He wasn’t exactly one for sweets.
Brian reached into the duffel bag, pulling out a whole six-pack of the unmarked cans. “Drink one a day. Nothing too complicated. I’ll meet you back here in a week. Same time?”
Resisting the urge to deck the guy, James took the six-pack under his arm. “Same time,” he agreed.
