Reign on Cloud Nine Iii: Sunshine After the Reign

By Dean Monet

The modern-day family of Cloud Nine is back for one final outing. A missing tire cap causes hilarious havoc, and so Nana calls time of road trips. A new face at Cloud Nine gives Tara Bumddier a run for her money. After his marriage starts to fall apart, Tye returns to Birmingham to reunite with old friends and make new enemies. As Ioan and Rebecca welcome a new member to their family, Ioan comes face to face with a victim of his past, and now his new life is in jeopardy.

Trixie, owner of Cloud Nine and creator of the gay village in Londons docklands, is facing new battles. The big corporations are planning to take over her village, and her excessive lifestyle is beginning to destroy her. As the ghosts of her past return in a spine-chilling conflict, a new beginning beckons. Can she survive this time and find sunshine after the Reign?

As we say good-bye to the modern family of Cloud Nine, we remember, family is where the heart is and where love never dies!

So buckle up for one last roller-coaster ride of tense drama and laugh-out-loud hilarity as old wounds are opened and old skeletons are laid to rest in the concluding part of Trixies Reign on Cloud Nine, the home of the misfit!

• Language: English
• Publisher: AuthorHouse UK
• Release date: Apr 21, 2016
• ISBN: 9781524632199

Dean Monet

Dean Monet was born in Birmingham in 1967. He attended the local comprehensive, where, at the age of sixteen, he wrote his first short play, “The Hospital Visitor,” the success of which was followed by two further plays, “To Be or Not to Be . . . an Actress” and “The Stuffing from the Pig.” Dean has also acted on television and onstage. In 1988, he relocated to London, where he worked as a residential child care worker and studied child protection at the University of East London. After meeting his husband, William John-James, Dean returned to Birmingham at the beginning of the nineties, where he studied counselling at the Solihull College. Having finished the trilogy Reign on Cloud Nine, Dean is now working on two further projects, one being a children’s book based in his hometown and the other a book of short stories with revenge as the theme.

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© 2016 Dean Monet. All rights reserved.

No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted by any means without the written permission of the author.

Published by AuthorHouse 04/15/2016

ISBN: 978-1-5246-3220-5 (sc)

ISBN: 978-1-5246-3218-2 (hc)

ISBN: 978-1-5246-3219-9 (e)

Any people depicted in stock imagery provided by Thinkstock are models, and such images are being used for illustrative purposes only.

Certain stock imagery © Thinkstock.

Because of the dynamic nature of the Internet, any web addresses or links contained in this book may have changed since publication and may no longer be valid. The views expressed in this work are solely those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the views of the publisher, and the publisher hereby disclaims any responsibility for them.

For Karen Floyd

(My childhood friend and my adulthood champion)

For loving and accepting Gavin

Contents

Acknowledgments

Cover Art design by; Toby Box

A Dark Man, With a Dark Secret

The Sun Will Always Shine…

…They are a Changing,

A Lady Called, Jadore.

The Kidz Come Home

Standing on a ledge…

Together Again.

Alf’s Out to Lunch…

Joan’s Yankee Doodle’s…

Going Home…

Calamity Trixie…

Fat bottomed girls and Killer Sons…

All about Eve…

The Ghosts of Little Munch Manor…

Trixie’s passed… Trixie’s past.

Revelations 1.2

The Devil in Trevor.

Jadore Vs Bumd’dier…Seconds out…

Altogether now…

Bobby returns in the shower…

Retribution

Let’s face the music, and dance.

Welcome Home.

Trevor McDonald?

The end of all trails

The Last Reign on Cloud Nine!

For Nana…

Sunshine after the Reign…

About the Author

Acknowledgments

To my biggest supporter throughout the Cloud Nine Journey, and my companion on my journey, my wonderful husband William John-James, I would like to say…I’m proud of loving you… your compassion, your love and your beautiful nature…With you I am truly blessed.

To my sister Wendy Conroy, thank you for always being you, and for never giving up on me, endless love. Dawn Sheldon, the very original ‘Patsy.’ You’re charm and smile light me, and your humour matches me. Like stars in the sky…true love never dies. Lynne Tooze, Alice Tooze and Daisy Tooze. For gracing me with being a member of your family, I am truly humbled and grateful, my cup over floweth. Jennifer Lynn McKittrick, and her wonderful family. I look forward to being with you all very soon, and thank you for allowing me to use you as characters in this project. My love to you all.

I would also like to give a huge thank you to Edward S Barnes, for his creative idea in naming Jadore Fontaine. As a result of ‘Reign On Cloud Nine’, I met Sarah Harvey who has become a welcome friend and supporter, thank you for listening to this project as it evolved, I hope you enjoy it as much in its completion. Many, many thanks to Toby Box for his hard work on the cover design, I am grateful beyond words. I couldn’t write what I would like, about the next entries, as the book would triple its size, but know that if your name appears, I consider you dear to me, and I love that you are. Debbie Roberts Franklin, Liam Franklin, Millicent Franklin, Maiya Sheldon-Johnson, Christopher Berry, Kevin Franklin, Michael Franklin, John Franklin, William Franklin, Natalie Franklin Andrews, Dan Andrews, Andrew Franklin, Jason Franklin, Ryan Conroy, Alfie Conroy, Rosaleen Fennel Shingler, Lisa Franklin, Holly Sheldon-Evans, Samantha Tongue, Estelle Seymour, Robert Nightingale, Pauline Franklin, Lawrence Harmen, Sandra Collins, Phil Collins, Chris Moodie.

Cover Art design by;

Toby Box

A Dark Man, With a Dark Secret

The day had been a hot and sticky one and the evening wasn’t proving to be any different. Alf sat in the back of the taxi and was convinced the sweat running from his back, was beginning to form a patch through his linen jacket. He was also beginning to regret the underwear too, not only were they riding so high they may need to be removed with tweezers, and although he was happy with the way they displayed his rather large family heirloom, they were making him constantly wanting to pull them free from the entangled scrotum. Finally, the car stopped on Kennington Park Road and Alf leapt from the taxi with the hope he would be met by fresh air, in fact the temperature had climbed. He stood looking at the stunning apartment block. He fought with his conscience once more and had one last check of his appearance, then he pressed the intercom and was buzzed into the lavish block.

On walking into the building, he saw the concierge looking at him with distain on his face. Alf felt uneasy and started fidgeting whilst waiting for the elevator. He walked into the lift and began to pant hard. It was like he knew … like he knew what I was doing here… The elevator pinged its arrival at floor number five. Alf got hold of himself and walked out onto the landing. He found the right number among the four different apartments and rang the bell. The door opened rather quickly and Alf felt instantly relaxed at the smiling face of the Italian god stood in front of him. He was six foot tall, neat jet black hair, wet and slicked back. His white cotton shirt was open, displaying the defined torso and its fine hairy coating. Alf’s eyes wandered down to the tight white shorts and the outline of joy. The god took Alf by the hand and pulled him into the apartment and a hug. Alf felt his own manhood twitch and instantly broke the embrace.

Are you still nervous? He finally asked Alf.

Yes, I think… The Italian god stepped forward and kissed Alf to silence him. Don’t be nervous, everything will be fine, you’ll see. Why don’t you take off your things and come and have a drink on the terrace. There are some workmen across the way, we can see them from here. They are wearing very small shorts and no tops. Might get you in the mood?

Alf smiled and began to remove his jacket and shirt. He walked onto the terrace topless and felt easy again. The Italian god poured him a drink and offered him the lounger next to his. The two men sat and drank and ogled the workmen on the building site opposite.

The blonde one … over there by that scaffolding…

Yes I see him. Alf agreed.

Imagine him, straggled across your chest…

Tye would love him. Alf added.

Oh come on Alf, we agreed. You don’t talk about your husband and I won’t talk about my wife.

Sorry.

Shall we go through to the bedroom? The Italian stood up and offered his hand to Alf.

Michael? The workmen didn’t really do it for me. But maybe if you were to lose the shorts! Alf raised his eyebrow.

Will it help? Michael asked.

Oh yes! Alf grinned. Michael began to slowly remove his shorts and once they hit the floor, Alf stood to attention. He removed his linen trousers and was led into the bedroom by what was commonly known, among the girls at the club, as the ‘Python,’ which was being firmly held by Michael.

************************************

Alf Curled his toes and moaned out loud, as his orgasm erupted over his tight stomach. He lay motionless for a moment, attempting to regain control over his breathlessness. He opened his eyes and saw the amazed look of satisfaction on Michael’s face. That was amazing! The Italian god spoke quietly. He handed Alf a towel and gave his cock one last squeeze. Clean up and come back out to the terrace. He said, as he climbed back into his own shorts. Alf looked down at himself, it was then the guilt really kicked in, as it normally does, afterwards. He had seen in a film once, a woman saying, ‘If their balls are full, then they have no room for thinking down there. That’s why they, (Men,) always feel guilt after they have shot their loads.’ Now Alf was feeling the guilt. He needed to leave as quickly as possible and get back to his husband. He needed to be with his family.

Having showered, Alf returned to the terrace and had a glass of fruit punch. Michael’s mood had changed somewhat, Alf had noted and having noted it, he spotted the traces of the white powder around Michael’s nostrils. Michael was smoking a joint and was now watching the blonde workman through binoculars. Every now and then he would rub himself between the legs and take a large tote on the joint. What I could do with that blonde down there! He announced, finally replacing the binoculars on the table with the fruit punch. He stood up from his lounger and turned his bulging shorts towards Alf. See what he’s done to me? He asked.

Yeah, looks like he got you really hot … Look I really have to get back… Michael freeing his erection stopped Alf talking.

Talk to the cock! Michael said smugly. Alf leaned forward and took hold of the great Italian staff. Opening his mouth he moved in closer to the glistening offering. I really have to get back, call me next week. Alf said into the penis and smiling as he got back to his feet, Michael was not impressed with the joke and rolled his eyes. Alf returned to the bedroom for the rest of his clothes, as he dressed he could hear Michael shouting something incoherent from the terrace. He ignored him and continued to put his shoes back on. He checked the inside jacket pocket for his wallet. He took it out and opened it up. There in the front transparent holder was a picture of his family. Tye was stood in front of the Resting Place, beaming with Joy as he was holding Candy’s tiny little hand. Alf’s heart skipped a beat. He had never cheated on his family before and keeping this day secret, was going to kill him inside.

As Alf left the apartment, the elevator pinged and the muscular blonde workman stepped from the lift. He passed Alf and rang Michael’s doorbell, Alf chuckled as he realised just whom, Michael had been shouting from the terrace.

*********************************

Alf caught ‘the tube’ from Lambeth North and headed for Oxford Circus. He had decided he would stop by a few shops on the way home and grab some gifts for his family. Thinking it would alleviate some of his guilt, he ended up spending so much money, he had begun to wonder whether he had over compensated. He had scoured all the major stores and had just left Hamley’s toy store, when on the corner of Oxford Circus and Regent Street he bumped into his sister, Avia and her three children, Willis, Kamili and Ghalyela. By the look of their tempered faces, it hadn’t been a good day Avia was about to erupt into something, and spotted her brother. Oh Alf, help. They are driving me to madness today!

Hi guys? Precious you look beautiful. Alf spoke to the youngest first. Whom had borne the look of annoyance? Please don’t call me that Uncle, my name is Ghalyela.

But your name means, precious.

I know that, but sometimes you just don’t feel precious.

But you are always precious to me!

Well you’ll never be Python to me. She smiled.

What did you say? Alf asked in disgruntled horror.

Willis said, there’s a photo of you in a magazine with your thingy out, he said they call you Python, he said. She then pointed an accusing finger at the dying Willis. Alf turned his shocked, bulging gaze at Avia.

It’s the first time I’m hearing this myself … Willis?

Willis shifted uncomfortably and gave his best, ‘I’m going to kill you,’ stare at his sister, before offering, It’s on the internet. I saw it on your website.

I don’t have a website. Alf responded frowning down at the 14 year old.

The Cloud Nine website. There’s a picture of you in your pants, on a stage. So I searched your name on that website and saw a video of you taking your clothes off! Alf’s mouth couldn’t hinge anymore then suddenly he righted his stance. I have to go! He stated and marched off for the underground station. Avia shouted after him. I need to talk to you!

***********************************

Alf finally arrived back at the village as the sun was turning the sky a beautiful magenta. The heat was still making the far end of the Main Drag, bend and shimmer from the rising heat. Alf walked into the Resting Place and smiled at its bustle but didn’t stop, quickly walking through to the private staircase he climbed upwards towards home.

The apartment was quite as he walked in, he could hear the faint voice of Tye coming from Candy’s bedroom. After creeping closer he could hear the ending of Candy’s favourite book, he smiled as he remembered when she had once asked, if she could grow her hair and throw it down to the street from her window. Alf slowly opened the door and popped his head around to see Tye kissing the sleeping child on the cheek. He smiled when he saw Alf and they quietly left the room together. Tye headed for the lounge until Alf took him by the arm and led him to the bedroom.

I’m tired Baby! Tye protested. Alf was just smiling and removing his clothes with one hand, as he kept a firm grip of his husband.

I mean it Alf, I’m just too tired… He began to smile himself as Alf pulled the drawstring from around his linen trousers. His joy was already evident, but once he freed it from its cloth prison, Tye willingly gave up the fight. Alf picked him up, and in one swift motion lifted him onto the bed. Finally he removed his trousers and climbed into position over his lover.

I have never wanted you more! Alf said as they kissed.

***********************************

Alf carried a tray of drinks and snacks into the bedroom and set it down next to the bed. Tye was fast asleep lying on his stomach with just the thin wrap of the sheet to cover his well-formed body. Alf stood and admired his husbands shape before slowly removing the sheet and kissing Tye’s buttocks. Tye began to stir, he turned slowly and tittered, Alf, what’s gotten into you. I am not in my twenty’s anymore. I think four times is well enough!

You can’t blame a man for trying! He grinned and jumped onto the bed next to Tye. I thought that if you aren’t so busy tonight, maybe we could…

"Oh come on? Not busy? When these days, am I not busy?"

I thought Trixie was back tomorrow?

She’s back in London, but whether she comes back to Cloud Nine, well now that’s another story. I can’t leave until she returns Alf, I made her a promise.

One of these days… Alf cut himself off.

One of these days, what? Tye demanded to know.

We made plans, you and me, Husband’s and child. We were going to live a life of our own making, not one dictated by the whims of that…! His temper was raising and he stopped himself before saying too much. Tye threw his legs from the bed and stomped into the bathroom without saying another word. Alf knew this to be a bad sign. If Tye walks away without the last word it means he is retreating for a grand, war winning assault. Alf’s guilt had now risen to a new height. Why didn’t you just keep your fucking mouth shut? He said to himself. Bang, went the bathroom door as it flung open into the opposite wall. Tye’s face was flushed and full to the brim with rage. Why don’t you keep your fucking, miserable mouth shut? He stormed.

I’m sorry, you’re under a terrible struggle and I’m adding to the pressure. Well consider this notice, no more pressure from me. I love you, and I just want to be with you. From now on I will never raise the subject again! Alf patted the bed next to him, Tye sat down and took a deep breath. He turned to face Alf. It will get better, I promise. The two kissed. Tye threw himself backwards on the bed. The thing is Trixie is trying to take care of Nana and Joan and she can’t see that the village as she knew, is changing. I’m holding the fort but I can’t do it forever Alf.

We have been offered a lot of money for this place, I think it’s time we considered it.

How could I do it to Trixie? Tye said downheartedly. A freshly awoken Candy entered the room and ran at Alf. He swooped her up in his arms. At some point my darling… He said to Tye, "…You are going to have to put us first!" He motioned to himself and Candy.

The Sun Will Always Shine…

The meadows of yellow rape danced to the touch of the warm summer breezes, their colour standing as one, like an army of brightness against the pure blue of the sky. The three friends traveling together had smiled at the beauty before them, acknowledging Mother Nature’s demands for attention. As their car moved into the sun’s direction, around the curve in the slip road, man’s intervention on the scenery came into view. The giant pale grey wind turbines came whopping across the skyline as the jaguar joined the M1 motorway heading for London.

Nana Love had been fast asleep in the back of the car, her tear stained face chipped away at the drag queens heart. Within six months of each other the three friends travelling in that car, had all become widows. Poor Nana Love had become the latest, following the recent death of her husband, Matry Brown. Trixie’s eyes wondered from the rear view mirror and the sight of Nana blowing raspberries with her snores, to the little old greying lady in the front. Trixie smiled at the sight of the unlit roll up, tucked into the corner of Joan’s mouth. This lady had been through so much too, looking at her now; Trixie could see how the loss of Warrior Yogi, last year; and of course the murder of her only child, Ferny; had hung its troubles around the very soul of this little old lady. The jet black hair was now all but gone, she was silver haired and withered of face. The ‘Sparkle,’ had somehow dimmed, she wasn’t as feisty anymore and that saddened Trixie, it was if she had finally been beaten.

Suddenly the little old lady lifted one buttock precariously and proceeded to fill the car with the sound of thunder, and the smell of a rotting cabbage. Trixie gagged three times, before the warm summer rush of wind cleared the air.

Facking hell, can you believe that came out of me? Joan cackled.

Considering you’ve been doing it every twenty minutes since we left Little Munch … Yes, I can believe that came from you! Nana leaned in from the back seat. You smell like a corpse! she said into the top of Joan’s head.

No love, that’ll be your perfume! Joan responded as she lit the roll up in the corner of her mouth. It’s a kind of; Calcutta Public loo in June, and her breath in the morning! She spattered with laughter as she motioned at Trixie. Trixie tutted and roll her eyes, thus catching a glimpse of a rouge boob, which she promptly readjusted.

I will have to stop at the first service station! She shouted above the roar of the wind, humming through the window.

NO! Shouted Nana, in response.

Oh, such fun! Added Joan.

NO! Reiterated Nana.

I wonder if I’ll get mugged again. Joan grinned and kissed the top of her walking cane.

Well, it’s got to be better than being raped by a horse sized dog! Nana answered.

Calm down the both of you, neither of you need get out of the car; I just need to check the tyre pressure and put some fuel in the tank, it won’t be long and surely we could do it without causing any drama! Trixie added.

You would think that, yes; But my dear we have not yet entered one of those establishments without drama, so if you don’t mind let’s just get through it without drawing attention to … Yourself! Nana said in a sarcastic tone.

Myself..? Why me? Trixie demanded to know.

Who should I be talking too? Asked Nana.

Me. Trixie said, lowering her tone in shame. Soon enough the car was pulling off the motorway and they parked by the air pressure station, just back a little from the fuel pumps. Trixie pressed the button to release the flap over the fuel tank. Before she got out of the car, she checked her surroundings, because although she wouldn’t admit it, she too was now nervous about coming into a service station. The coast looked clear, no sign of any impending doom.

She bent down to the front tyre and unscrewed the cap, then she moved around to the passenger side and did the same thing there. Turning to look at the machine, she studied how to work it and put air into the tyres. She pressed the necessary buttons and soon she was at work, and feeling very proud at her accomplishments. Having filled the front tyres with the correct amount of air, she then moved to the back of the car and did the same with the rear tyres. All done, she began to replace the caps on the tyres, thus realising she had only three caps. She began to scour the floor around herself for the missing cap, but to no avail. She walked back to the car and kept looking as she climbed back into the driver’s seat.

I’ve lost the cap off one of the tyres. She told the other two. Joan was lost in her knitting and didn’t hear. Nana sat forward. See if they sell any in the station when you go and pay for the fuel dearest.

Good thinking. Trixie replied and started the car’s engine. Slowly she pulled the car up next to a fuel pump. She got out of the car and began to fill it with the fuel, and the whole time she kept looking on the ground over by the air pump. It was no good she couldn’t see it, so she finished filling the tank and replaced the flap over the fuel cap and walked over to the station to pay. Inside the shop she found a spare packet of tyre caps and paid for her fuel.

As she came out of the shop, she decided that before they leave she would have one more look for the missing cap, so she marched over to the air pressure pump and once again scoured the scene; still it was nowhere to be found. She walked back over towards her car, checking the floor as she did. Once she had gotten to the passenger side of the car, she parked her bottom on the window sill of the door and had another look around on the floor next to the car. Then finally, she admitted defeat and walked around to the driver’s side; with gusto she pulled open the door and climbed into the car. She pulled the door shut and said; Well, I’ll be fucked if I don’t know what happened to that screw…! It was just then that the woman, whos car Trixie had gotten into began to scream for help!