Different Circles

They had a good time for the next two hours or so, using up two condoms apiece. Jim came once while fucking Kim and once while fucking Holly’s ass while Kim licked his balls and Matt fucked Kim’s ass. It was a good time, and it is mentioned here because it was the only good time that Matt managed to have during his tour break. He spent the rest of the time prepping himself to have his own ass fucked by a much bigger dick than his or Jim’s.

Wesley Brimm was the tax attorney that Pauline had set Matt up with. He met the man for the first time in person at the Brackford, Redman, and Jackson offices in Brentwood two days after the impromptu orgy in his mansion. He was a short man of slight build, his features prissy and feminine looking, his voice matching his features, but he was reputed to be one of the foremost exports on federal and California taxation laws as they related to people and/or corporations who made more than a million dollars a year. It was he who advised Pauline and Jill on KVA tax issues.

“You are in serious trouble here, Matt,” was his summary of the situation.

“I kinda got that impression,” Matt said.

“As expected, the franchise tax board notified the IRS of the income discrepancy they uncovered, and the IRS immediately ordered an audit of your taxes from 1991 to 1995.”

“I know,” Matt said sourly. “You had me fax that form that released all my documentation to them and authorized you to be my mouthpiece.”

“That audit began two weeks ago,” Wesley said. “They haven’t even started working their way backwards yet. They’re still doing the preliminaries of 1995’s taxes and already you’re in very deep water.”

“What are we talking here? Jail time?”

“Oh no, they’re not going to pursue incarceration,” Wesley said. “If you’re in jail, you’re not making money. And they want their money. And they will do anything in their power to get it. To get all of it, plus interest and penalties.”

“And what is in their power?” Matt wanted to know.

“It would be easier to tell you what is not in their power. They have many avenues at their disposal, and they are already starting to implement them. Just based on the preliminary exam of 1995, they have already put liens on both of your California real estate holdings, have put a hold on your ability to transfer large amounts of money out of your bank accounts, have frozen your certificates of deposit and bond holdings, and set a tracker on any sale of stock certificates in your name.”

“Assholes,” Matt spat.

“They’re doing the job they are paid to do,” Wesley said. “And they do it extremely well in situations like this.”

“What happens next?”

“When the audit is complete, they will issue their findings and tell us what the amount of back taxes plus interest and penalties you owe. They will demand payment of the full amount within ninety days.”

“They won’t let me negotiate a payment plan or some shit like that?”

“They will negotiate with me on that manner, but it is they who get to decide what is fair and equitable. They are not going to simply tell you to pay a couple thousand a month until it is paid off. They will expect at least half of each of your royalty checks for starters.”

“Half?”

“Half,” he confirmed. “In addition, they will move to seize and auction off your nonessential property to pay down the debt. Your helicopter and your yacht will be the first things they go after. They will likely make a move on one of your domiciles as well.”

“My domiciles? What the fuck does that mean?”

“Your real estate holdings,” Wesley explained. “You own a condo and a house in California. They will argue that you do not need two residences. My guess is that they will go after the San Juan Capistrano home because it is worth more.”

“They can’t take my fuckin’ house!” Matt yelled.

“They can’t take both of them,” Wesley corrected. “They can take one. And since the San Juan Capistrano house is worth more, that’s the one they will go after. Now, a judge may disagree, especially when I argue that that domicile is your primary residence, but they’ll have the LA condo at the very least. And they’ll keep the lien on the other house no matter what. You will not be able to sell it without their say-so.”

“This shit’s like Nazi-fucking-Germany!”

“No, it’s like the United States Internal Revenue Service when you owe them a lot of money,” he said. “And things don’t end there. They know about all of your possessions, Matt. They subpoenaed the records from your insurance company, including the appraisals of value. Everything deemed unessential is up for grabs. Your guitar collection, for instance. It is valued at three hundred and twenty-six thousand dollars. They will go after that.”

“My guitars?! What the fuck, dude?” And then something even darker occurred to him. “My Strat! They can’t take my Strat from me, can they? I’ll never give it to those motherfuckers! I’ll burn it first!”