Richard Simmons With A Headband Novels & Stories

“Fuck you, motherfucker! I’ll kill you, you piece of shit! Do you hear me?! I’ll fucking—” Richard screamed, his threat falling to deaf ears. Simon stood up from his seat and walked towards him, his hands tucked inside the pockets of his pants. He crouched in front of Richard, doing his best not to let his filth spoil his suit. “You know what?” He tilted his head to the side, his smile stretching on his face. “You’ve become such a pain in my ass that I can’t help but wonder if you have a death wish.”

Simon greeted as she walked in. Bridget smiled cheerfully. "You look dashing, my boy. Are we attending any special event at Creek Island?" She asked Simon, who was dressed in plain black trousers, a black tucked in long sleeved shirt unbuttoned at the chest, a pair of black designers on her feet and a couple others on his wrist. His outfit was exuding charm, class and style. He looked at his aunt and smiled softly. "Thank you. But we all know that you are the most beautifully dressed one right here. Those pearls are so beautiful. I would love to get one of those for the women in my life who don't own one already." He said, gently excluding Bridget.

It sobered me up in an instant. I mumbled an apology, trying to pull away from the man's trench coat, my eyes dropping to his wrist. The watch he wore looked oddly familiar. A rare edition, limited worldwide. Even Charles couldn't get his hands on one. "Sorry. I'm so sorry," I said again. I knew who he was. I didn't look up. Didn't need to. "Your hand is bleeding," he said, his voice low, textured with something like exhaustion. "It's nothing."

And the room—when I finally managed to pry my eyes open—was way too big. Shit. I sat up so fast the whole room spun. I pressed my palms to my temples, trying to keep my brain from exploding out of my ears. As a bonus, I noticed I was wearing an oversized men's t-shirt and sweatpants that definitely weren't mine. The door opened. And Simon walked in like he'd just stepped off a magazine cover. Perfect black slacks, white shirt with the buttons lined up like soldiers, black tie, hair slicked back, making that sculpted face even more pronounced. He was heading toward me holding a breakfast tray.

But in the next minute, he furrowed his brows due to feeling a weight in his pockets. Simon quickly dipped his hands into his pocket and took out the contents. His brows knitted upon taking out a breathtaking custom-made necklace and wristwatch studded with tiny diamonds, with a little paper accompanying it. The necklace and wristwatch had a little white rabbit carved on them. Even without being told, Simon knew the person who could place such a thing in his pocket. He languidly opened the paper and went through it. ‘Put it on. If you lose it, I'll punish you when I return.’

“Damn!” Simon saw a man in the crowd who was wearing a hood and a facemask. He looked at Luna, who was still talking to the police. He looked back at the man in the hood, and then it took off the facemask. Simon’s eyes got bigger when he realized who the man was. It wears the facemask back. When Luna touched him, he was surprised. What exactly is it? Luna asked, after noticing that Simon had turned pale. “Rafael... I saw Rafael..” Simon said.

Ben, standing nearby, felt exhilarated. Hahaha! Exactly! Kick him twice more, and then throw him out with the flowers! "Hey, beauty, don't be so heartless. I have a surprise for you today." Simmons wore a sly smile, then reached into his pocket and pulled out a bunch of baby's breath. He used a lighter to set the flowers on fire in front of her. With a whoosh, flames flickered. The baby's breath flowers turned to ashes instantly. Simultaneously, a shiny diamond necklace appeared in his hand.

I only had a lacey, almost seethrough bra on. "Just don't get my fucking face in it! It ain't rocket science!" Simon snapped as if realising the issue with being put on camera. Sensing the tension brewing between the two of them, I fought my instinct to smile in hopes I would be left alone with Simon long enough to pit them against each other. The more I allowed them to bicker between themselves, the less they were focused on me! Or giving me that fucking wolvesbane!

Was the person he had hugged the same person as who he was holding in his arms now? Simon's heart suddenly beat faster, but he was not a person who easily showed his thought. He looked calm on his face. "Your costume is very interesting, especially these bands." "Really?" The girl did not answer him, but put her hand on his shoulder and said, "But yours looks common. What is the character?" "Myself." Simon raised his lips. "Is there a problem?" This was indeed his style. "Of course not." The girl smiled. Someone suddenly bumped into her from behind. "Ah..."

Just as the video glitched into green-and-black static on the final frame, my eyes caught a detail near the corner of the alleyway. Standing beside a dark sedan parked three blocks away from the chaos was a tall, solitary figure. The angle was too dark and distorted to catch a clear face, but the silhouette was distinct: a man standing perfectly still, impeccably dressed in a tailored suit, holding a cigarette in his other hand. I zoomed in as far as the damaged pixels would allow, staring intently at the outline. I knew that posture. I knew that calm, calculating stance. Simon. My pulse spiked, a dark, heavy confusion wrapping around my chest. What the hell was Simon doing near the area in