Neil Olshey had, after sixteen straight hours of driving, stopped at a motel somewhere in Colorado. The promise of a bed was very tempting to Damian, but the prospect of sleeping in the same room as a man who kept murmuring “tie him up” and “punish him” in reference to a former teammate was anything but tempting. So the car it was.
Camping out in the car had one bonus: privacy. Damian called LaMarcus’ new San Antonio phone number (which Neil apparently did not have) and waited for the call to be answered.
Finally, LaMarcus’ voice appeared on the other end. “Hey Dame, what’s up?”
“Not much,” Damian answered. “Just going on an impromptu road trip with Neil Olshey against my will to come visit you.”
“Oh no,” LaMarcus groaned. “You said you got Neil with you? Damn.”
“Thought I’d give you a heads up,” Damian said apologetically. “What’s up with you and him, anyway? He keeps saying weird things.” Damian couldn’t bring himself to repeat exactly what weird things Neil had been saying.
There was a heavy sigh from LaMarcus’ end. “When I was in Portland, Neil was always making these…advances…towards me. The first time he called me ‘slave’ I thought he was making a slavery joke or something. But I think it was more than that. I think he wanted to dominate me sexually or something.”
“That’s sort of what I guessed,” Damian said, feeling a gross sensation across his skin as he thought about it.
“I had to get out of there, man. You understand, right? It was like ten percent basketball reasons and ninety percent Neil reasons. That dude is messed in the head.”
Damian nodded. “I got you. Just a warning, he’ll be looking for you in San Antonio pretty soon. None of us know your new address but I’m sure he’ll figure it out somehow. I don’t know if I’ll be able to call again.”
LaMarcus chuckled darkly. “Thanks, man. I’ll be waiting, I guess.”
The call ended and Damian lay back down on the too-small backseat, knowing that he was unlikely to get any sleep.
—
“You know where you’re going?” Damian asked as Neil drove through a posh San Antonio subdivision.
Neil looked startled, as if he had forgotten that there was a passenger in the car. “I got the Spurs to tell me LaMarcus’ address. All I had to do was tell them that I was going to send him a present for Father’s Day!” he said proudly. “Oh, here we are. Blue Agave Lane.” Neil turned down the side street and began listing off house numbers to himself.
“5807. This is it.”
Damian wondered if LaMarcus was calling the cops right at this very moment. What would the cops do, though? There was no law against visiting your old friends unannounced.
Neil got out of the car and walked up to the front door of the house. Damian debated whether or not he should stay where he was. He decided that his physical presence might be required if Neil got out of control, so he also got out of the car, but hung back quite a ways.
The door opened and LaMarcus put on an unconvincing expression of surprise on his face. “Neil! What’s up, man? I wasn’t expecting you at all!”
“Dame says that you signed with San Antonio,” Neil said. “Is that true? Did you really sign with the Spurs?”
LaMarcus’ fake surprise turned into real surprise. “Uh, yeah. I did. We talked about it, remember? Last year?”
“No. I don’t remember. But it doesn’t matter. Now that I have you, I’m never letting you go again!” he announced. From underneath his button-down shirt he whipped out handfuls of black leather straps, chains, and gags, which he brandished at his former player. “Stay still, LaMarcus. You know you like it when Master ties you up.”
LaMarcus bolted past Neil, out into his own front yard. Neil slowly turned around before giving chase. Seeing his chance, Damian waited until Neil was running by and then tackled him. Neil heavily thudded to the grass, bondage gear flying out of his hands. Damian kept a tight grip on him for a few seconds, but it soon became clear that Neil was not in any condition to get up from the ground to continue his pursuit.
“What should we do with him?” LaMarcus asked.
Damian looked at the bondage gear scattered across the lawn. It gave him an idea.
—
“If he really has gone crazy, this probably isn’t going to help things,” LaMarcus commented, tightening the last belt around Neil’s arms and torso.
Damian had driven to one of the seedier parts of San Antonio’s downtown. He pulled into an alley and parked. Walking to the other side of the car, he opened the rear passenger door; LaMarcus shoved their immobile passenger out. The fall to the pavement sounded painful, but any moans of pain were suppressed by the ball gag.
“Well, that’s that,” Damian said. “It’s hard to imagine him keeping his job after all this. You sure you don’t want back to Portland?”
“Naw man, I’m sure. Wait, hold on.” LaMarcus checked his phone. “I gotta get going. I’ve got a special appointment with RC Buford that I can’t miss. Last time I was late, he punished me extra good.”