Eliminator
Bad Girl
I know a girl with a GTO,
She's the one that go cat go,
She's a bad girl, she's a bad girl.
See the girl dressed in green,
She's the one that's a mean machine,
She's a bad girl, she's a bad girl.
Ain't it a shame when a girl goes bad,
It's enough to drive you mad. ~ ZZ Top
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“Ten o’clock, Rio.” Zora’s tone was exhausted as she said the words, her arm went around Rio’s shoulder turning her to walk up West Ogden towards Vine. Zora wasn’t the girl’s name, though it meant the same thing which made her clever so far as Rio was concerned. “You wanna head downtown, maybe stop at Graeters? I’ll buy.”
“Can’t tonight, I promised I’d be home for the cake.” Rio knew that Zora was just looking for company from someone she trusted. The dark skinned bottle blonde wouldn’t have needed it if she’d just listened to Rio. Tomorrow Zora would be wearing extra thick concealer and pretending that her last appointment hadn’t been heavy handed despite all the girls knowing that Dyers was always heavy handed. At least he paid extra for the privilege. Zora must’ve really needed the cash.
Rio split off at the boulevard, easily navigating the broken concrete of the sidewalk as she slowly turned her outfit back into the school uniform she’d left the apartment wearing that morning. It was amazing what could be accomplished with little effort, a roll of fabric here an artfully placed knot there and a judicious amount of makeup could turn even the purest into the darkest dream girl. Turning onto Fourth would take her home and Rio would magically have transformed back into Yvonne. It was only a few blocks, far enough to know if she were being followed. She gave Juice an upnod on her way past. He’d be the one who took care of anyone too interested in where she lived, mostly because the pusher owed her more than one. She’d saved him several times from being picked up by the watch in crackdowns. It helped to have regulars who were familiar with when those things were happening. This foresight that earned her the name Rio, it had to be considering she looked nothing like the girls who came from there.
Zora had said it first, having watched some movie about jet pilots. “A RIO’s job is to protect that ass, somethin’ you know… to see shit that’s hidden. You always doin’ that, girl.”
Maybe it was true, but it wasn’t Rio’s fault that she paid attention to things others didn’t. Still the anonymity offered by the name was appreciated, that and the watchful eyes if she were being honest. Juice wasn’t a big guy, the image of a large intimidating dealer was a myth. It was at that level at least, Rio was pretty sure that intimidating looks took a back seat to being quick on his feet and able to get into places bigger men couldn’t. He was smart though, and usually armed well enough to let the weapon do his intimidating. He seemed distracted, his acknowledgement of her was a little too abrupt. His gaze usually lingered on her a little longer thinking things that all men did when they looked her way. Today his gaze strayed too quickly, it wasn’t much and maybe she was the only one who would notice it, isn’t that exactly what Zora had accused her of? She stopped, turning to stand next to Juice in his observance of the street, or rather the car parked just beyond the sidewalk.
Rio didn’t need to know that the car was built in 1970 to know that it was old, or that it was made by Mercury to see that there was a cougar on the grill and the word ELMN8R on license plate. It was all enough information for anyone observant to put things together. What was more difficult was the color, it wasn’t quite orange but it wasn’t red either. The shade seemed to be somewhere in between and something about it gnawed at the back of her mind with familiarity.
Before she could ask Juice, he stepped away from the building right into the path of Gee Tee and Race. The pair of them were ten, twin brothers, and had been boosting parts for Gary Thomas senior’s garage for the last two years.
“Not this one, it’s protected.” At Juice’s words, Race crossed his arms over his chest and gave a tilt headed look to Juice before pursing his lips and nodding.
“You gotta sleep sometime though, right?” G.T. asked as though this were already a prearranged deal, and maybe it was.
“The man said it’s upta me ta keep things safe… you feel me?” came Juice’s reply.
The widening of G.T.’s eyes was enough to tell Rio that Juice’s response was not what he expected. That of course only piqued her curiosity and made her analyze the exchange. Right away she could see there was as much information in what wasn’t said as what was. Juice hadn’t said that he’d been paid to watch the car, or indicated in any way how long it was likely to be in the neighborhood. He hadn’t even said he was paid, just that it was up to him to keep things safe. The veiled threat implied was pretty obvious, anything happens to the wheels people get hurt, it was simple enough. Saying that it was up to Juice to ensure that implied something else. Juice’s job was to get the word out that this particular car was not one to mess with. That seemed to mean that whoever owned it was sticking around for a while, but even beyond that the fact that Juice was indeed putting the word out meant he thought it was necessary. It meant that…
“You scared, Juice?” Rio asked the question as she watched the two boys move into an alleyway, letting herself observe the pusher peripherally.
Juice puffed up before he answered, a sure sign that this did affect him. He would act the same way when she warned him about raids, but he would disappear at the right time. “Shee-iiit Rio baby, you know better than that. There’s just them you mess with, and them you don’t.”
Rio rolled her eyes and stepped away from him heading for the steps that would take her inside the building and home. She didn’t get two steps when Juice grabbed her arm. “It’s getting darker round here Rio, watch yer ass.” She laughed as she pulled away, did he even have any idea of the darkness she endured every day? She looked back at him, then beyond to the Cougar, something in the way the streetlight hit the car flooded her with the answer to that gnawing question about the color. She had seen it before, it was blood, not the fresh stuff. This was older, a stain left behind something impossible to ever come clean. A chill ran down her back that had her hurrying into the building. Retrieving her bag from the closet she’d hidden it in, Rio spent several minutes removing the makeup from her face with the remover she’d stowed inside it before heading upstairs. Reluctance welled in her as she ascended. She’d promised Sammy that she’d share his birthday cake, but Max her mother’s live in boyfriend would be there. He knew what she was, they’d caught each other over on Ogden. Somehow his presence didn’t surprise her at all, not like when it was her he’d picked up.
Rio had thought that concern was what brought him to that neighborhood. That was as far from the case as one could get. He’d made her do things, boasting how lucky he was now that he wouldn’t have to pay for it. He made her sick, Zora covered for her anytime he rolled through, but that didn’t make it right. It didn’t change what happened when she finally got home either. Max was waiting for her outside the door when she got there, reeking of sweat and alcohol. Rio was used to being looked at by men, sometimes she even liked it, but the leer on Max was enough to make even her feel dirty. She backed her way to the wall doing her very best not to tremble.
“Seen ya walkin through the window, Yvonne, stoppin’ by that boy. He one of yer clients too? Ya make him pay to touch ya? Bet if he knew… if he did, he’d be wishin’ he was me.” Rio looked past the man holding back the urge to vomit while hoping for her mother or brother to appear in the doorway. “I stopped by the boy earlier too, picked some bath salts up for your mother. Sent Sammy over to his friends. We won’t be disturbed.”
Screaming wouldn’t help, seriously, Rio knew from experience that screaming never helped. Not here. She screamed anyway, unable to stop it. She imagined she could hear the latching of additional locks three floors down. That was just her mind playing tricks right? Sound was funny the way it bounced around, the minor phase distortion caused by bare walls and floor reflected an imperfect echo. Even Max’s footfalls echoed through the place, except that the timing was all wrong, they didn’t match his movements.
Rio screamed again as Max was suddenly propelled into the doorway she’d been looking at a moment before. A shadow fell over him, a massive form that had her running down the hallway testing every door knob on the way until one finally turned and allowed her access. She put her back to the door closing it hard, her hand shaking as it engaged the locks. The place was empty, barren of any furniture, no pictures lined walls which had been repaired so often they were no longer flat. She moved further into the place, it was laid out just like her mother’s place, two bedrooms off the west wall, a kitchenette on the east and ahead of her was the bathroom. The light showed through the cracked door. Why was the light on? Why was it even working? She crossed the room and pushed the door open to reveal a curtainless rod over the tub occupied by a hanger holding an extremely large, old leather bomber jacket with the words The Dark Angel across the shoulders. Beneath the words sat the image of a blonde woman in a top hat and tuxedo-esque corset. Rio’s heart began to pound hard as she moved through things that were known to her now. One unlocked door in a sea of locked ones, the thing in the hall, it all clicked together the very moment that she heard the key slide into the lock. She turned around in time to see the handle turning, her heart had practically stopped, she was going to die… unless she could bluff?
The top of the shadow’s head nearly touched the top of the door frame, Rio straightened all of her five foot nothing back, planting her fists on her hips and adopted a most disapproving look on her face. “About time you got back! That... ain’t where your jacket goes…” Her tone was reprimanding as she twisted held her hand palm up towards the leather coat before walking towards it with an exaggerated sashay to take it down. She brought it back, pressed it into a wall of muscled torso. “Tomorrow I want something to sit on and at least one picture on the wall.” She pulled her hand away leaving the jacket to fall or be caught. “I’m going to take a long bath and let you think about what you’ve done.” Rio stepped through the bathroom doorway and promptly locked the door before sliding down it to sit on the floor and cry silently.
Eliminator (18+, Violence, Strong Language,Mature Themes)
Moderators: Eddie Blake, Tahlia Faras
- Eddie Blake
- Adventurer
- Posts: 49
- Joined: Wed Feb 22, 2017 9:13 pm
- Location: Drifting
- Eddie Blake
- Adventurer
- Posts: 49
- Joined: Wed Feb 22, 2017 9:13 pm
- Location: Drifting
Re: Eliminator (18+, Violence, Strong Language,Mature Themes)
Rio did not recognize the ceiling when her eyes opened and came into focus. Despite knowing that all the apartments were the same, there were still distinct differences. The messy spackled pattern above her was one of those, it was one that she hadn’t noticed the night before. That was because of the darkness, there was only one room which had any illumination. She’d discovered that when she’d barred herself into that bathroom fully expecting to be forcibly removed. Instead she’d been abandoned, the girl had heard the footfalls in the room beyond the door, they paced back and forth accompanied by heavy breaths which huffed discontentedly out between squeaks of the damned leather jacket. There were times when she could hear him right next to the door and her heart began to pound again, the last time it was so loud in her ears that she’d almost missed the sound of the front door closing and locking again. It was a trap, it had to be that or maybe it was the open a window trick, the one where you turn off all the lights and leave so that the wild animal makes its own way out. It could have been either, or god forbid both. Either way it was up to her now, there was only one way out.
Rio put her hand on the knob and twisted slow and quiet as she could. She cracked the door open and pressed her ear to the opening still half believing that the massive figure would be tucked away in the shadows. Resolve built inside her, courage increasing as she tightened her grip on the door and still a swallow came unbidden when she made a space large enough to pass through. Every nerve was energized, ready to permeate her body and spark her into fight or flight. It wasn’t necessary, the room beyond, the entire place was devoid of any presence save hers. Relieved, sure Rio was that in spades but now all that build up seemed mundane and left her feeling oddly disappointed somehow. There would be no struggle for life like she’d expected, or was it hoped? For a few moments she’d been alive, no that wasn’t right. She’d been alive the entire time, it was only in those moments that she’d become aware of it, even craved it enough to risk danger. There was no danger, no shadowy enemy massing on her. There was only her and no one to realize she was alive. The disappointment was bleeding the energy formed of her anticipation from her, leeching it away as quickly as her reason to remember that she did indeed still live, and that she had a home to return to. Rio hadn’t made it all the way across to the front door when she realized what that meant. Another monster, only this one had manifested before. She may be beneath the notice of the giant who resided within these walls, but she’d never go unnoticed there. It was a bitter truth, and one that was powerful enough to keep the girl from moving. Maybe it was better to face the unknown danger than return to the one she knew?
It was chance that put her here. There was nothing to do in this empty place, no television or radio. At least she’d been able to plug in her phone to charge it, of course she’d only found the wall socket after tripping. In one dark bedroom a mattress lay on the floor, a hidden accusation aimed directly at her. Rio rolled onto her side, crumpling the blanket up and hugging it to herself, part of her was astounded that she hadn’t been dragged out. Instead her alarm had been the thing to wake her, it hit her then, last night there’d been no blanket. The mattress was covered over in a fitted sheet which at least smelled clean. The giant, the monster… had covered her up? What else had it done? She’d never felt quite so vulnerable, and yet everything was still in place. She needed to stop dwelling on it, to get up and go while it was still quiet out there. It was morning, her mother would be up, she’d be safe enough from Max. Hell he’d been so drunk last night she doubted he’d even remember seeing her. It was time to get up, not because of the time or even the location. She knew that there were demons which needed dealing with, that alone should have kept her here where at least there was the illusion of safety. There was something more pressing than even that to Rio. It was the smell, it had been almost imperceptible when she’d opened her eyes, but having let them drift shut again it became nearly overwhelming. There were strong remnants of old cigarette smoke, that was something that she already knew. It had no power over her wants or her needs, no, it was what lay beneath the vestiges of burnt tobacco. Hiding under it all was the essence of salt positively permeated by a musky essence which had her tingling in places with utterly primal desires. That wasn’t anything she wanted to experience, summoning every ounce of willpower Rio managed to, not exactly, cast off the offending blanket from her far enough to regain the ability to concentrate.
Rio picked up her heels choosing, wisely if she said so herself, stealth over the extra six inches which may make her legs and ass look better but were no defense against giants. She wouldn’t need either as it turned out. Beyond the door there were several noticeable changes. An elaborate floor lamp had been placed in the room, the statuesque figure of Aquaman stood holding a trident from the top of which a light socket was attached. The framework to hold the lampshade was empty leaving just the bare bulb lingering over another new addition to the room. The camp chair was far from proper living room furniture but at least it held the same theme as the lamp, though why anyone would want to sit on Aquaman’s face was a mystery. In its seat rested a dog eared paperback novel, There’s Always Hope by Kyndall Long. It seemed an odd choice, maybe it was all the giant had? She’d recognized both chair and lamp, or Yvonne had. They belonged to her brother, she’d determined that easily by the wear patterns in the chair and several dings in the lamp she remembered Sammy making. The clencher was the stack of comic books, the top one announcing itself as Blonde Phantom, oddly enough the woman drawn on the cover could easily pass for the one she’d seen on the leather bomber jacket the night before. She didn’t know what that meant, and would have hurried away to ask Sammy if something else hadn’t caught her attention. The chair was set in the center of the room facing a picture, or rather a collage of them placed together and lacking any kind of frame. It was the wall’s only decoration, the images glued to construction paper and taped into place on the dingy white surface.
Intentional or not the pictures told a story, one about a boy who had been happy once with family, standing with his mother who only appeared in that first frame. After that the boys face held pain, sadness, and bewilderment as a young girl, who despite her lighter shade of hair looked much the same as he did, kissed his cheek. Presumably it was goodbye if the images that followed were any indication. The boy’s face took on the look of growing up too fast, a kid who would do whatever it took to survive, a rebel in a place he obviously didn’t belong just to steal time with that little girl. On those pictures progressed, the subject’s visage becoming sadder before growing ultimately colder. It tugged at her even though the face had become something frightening. It certainly didn’t match what she saw now, sleeping peacefully beneath the collage and using the leather jacket as a blanket. Rio fought off whatever force was keeping her in place, at this rate she was going to have to skip going home to change and get going. Zora would have something she could wear. She slipped out the front door and made it all the way to the top of the stairs when the voice halted her.
“Hey...” It was a deep baritone, and not the animalistic growl she’d fantasized, though she did need to swallow and take a deep breath before turning around to face the giant. He was still gigantic, that part had only been slightly exaggerated by her eyes last night. His dark head of hair high enough that it may need to duck through most doorways even without his shoes. His skin, what wasn’t covered by the white tank top he wore, was far from pristine drawing her eyes to the whitened scars that said much more than any real words could. He stepped forward boldly, pushing a warm cellophane packet into her hand that smelled of strawberries which thankfully masked that other scent.
“...breakfast is the most important meal of the day.” Rio’s eyes fell to the cellophane, a packet of strawberry pop tarts that was still warm from whatever he’d used to heat it.
“Thanks.” Rio murmured never knowing if the giant had heard it because the hallway was empty and the door to his apartment was swinging shut. She’d only looked down a moment, right? A guy that size shouldn’t be able to move so quietly, that should have broken some kind of law of physics.
Rio put her hand on the knob and twisted slow and quiet as she could. She cracked the door open and pressed her ear to the opening still half believing that the massive figure would be tucked away in the shadows. Resolve built inside her, courage increasing as she tightened her grip on the door and still a swallow came unbidden when she made a space large enough to pass through. Every nerve was energized, ready to permeate her body and spark her into fight or flight. It wasn’t necessary, the room beyond, the entire place was devoid of any presence save hers. Relieved, sure Rio was that in spades but now all that build up seemed mundane and left her feeling oddly disappointed somehow. There would be no struggle for life like she’d expected, or was it hoped? For a few moments she’d been alive, no that wasn’t right. She’d been alive the entire time, it was only in those moments that she’d become aware of it, even craved it enough to risk danger. There was no danger, no shadowy enemy massing on her. There was only her and no one to realize she was alive. The disappointment was bleeding the energy formed of her anticipation from her, leeching it away as quickly as her reason to remember that she did indeed still live, and that she had a home to return to. Rio hadn’t made it all the way across to the front door when she realized what that meant. Another monster, only this one had manifested before. She may be beneath the notice of the giant who resided within these walls, but she’d never go unnoticed there. It was a bitter truth, and one that was powerful enough to keep the girl from moving. Maybe it was better to face the unknown danger than return to the one she knew?
It was chance that put her here. There was nothing to do in this empty place, no television or radio. At least she’d been able to plug in her phone to charge it, of course she’d only found the wall socket after tripping. In one dark bedroom a mattress lay on the floor, a hidden accusation aimed directly at her. Rio rolled onto her side, crumpling the blanket up and hugging it to herself, part of her was astounded that she hadn’t been dragged out. Instead her alarm had been the thing to wake her, it hit her then, last night there’d been no blanket. The mattress was covered over in a fitted sheet which at least smelled clean. The giant, the monster… had covered her up? What else had it done? She’d never felt quite so vulnerable, and yet everything was still in place. She needed to stop dwelling on it, to get up and go while it was still quiet out there. It was morning, her mother would be up, she’d be safe enough from Max. Hell he’d been so drunk last night she doubted he’d even remember seeing her. It was time to get up, not because of the time or even the location. She knew that there were demons which needed dealing with, that alone should have kept her here where at least there was the illusion of safety. There was something more pressing than even that to Rio. It was the smell, it had been almost imperceptible when she’d opened her eyes, but having let them drift shut again it became nearly overwhelming. There were strong remnants of old cigarette smoke, that was something that she already knew. It had no power over her wants or her needs, no, it was what lay beneath the vestiges of burnt tobacco. Hiding under it all was the essence of salt positively permeated by a musky essence which had her tingling in places with utterly primal desires. That wasn’t anything she wanted to experience, summoning every ounce of willpower Rio managed to, not exactly, cast off the offending blanket from her far enough to regain the ability to concentrate.
Rio picked up her heels choosing, wisely if she said so herself, stealth over the extra six inches which may make her legs and ass look better but were no defense against giants. She wouldn’t need either as it turned out. Beyond the door there were several noticeable changes. An elaborate floor lamp had been placed in the room, the statuesque figure of Aquaman stood holding a trident from the top of which a light socket was attached. The framework to hold the lampshade was empty leaving just the bare bulb lingering over another new addition to the room. The camp chair was far from proper living room furniture but at least it held the same theme as the lamp, though why anyone would want to sit on Aquaman’s face was a mystery. In its seat rested a dog eared paperback novel, There’s Always Hope by Kyndall Long. It seemed an odd choice, maybe it was all the giant had? She’d recognized both chair and lamp, or Yvonne had. They belonged to her brother, she’d determined that easily by the wear patterns in the chair and several dings in the lamp she remembered Sammy making. The clencher was the stack of comic books, the top one announcing itself as Blonde Phantom, oddly enough the woman drawn on the cover could easily pass for the one she’d seen on the leather bomber jacket the night before. She didn’t know what that meant, and would have hurried away to ask Sammy if something else hadn’t caught her attention. The chair was set in the center of the room facing a picture, or rather a collage of them placed together and lacking any kind of frame. It was the wall’s only decoration, the images glued to construction paper and taped into place on the dingy white surface.
Intentional or not the pictures told a story, one about a boy who had been happy once with family, standing with his mother who only appeared in that first frame. After that the boys face held pain, sadness, and bewilderment as a young girl, who despite her lighter shade of hair looked much the same as he did, kissed his cheek. Presumably it was goodbye if the images that followed were any indication. The boy’s face took on the look of growing up too fast, a kid who would do whatever it took to survive, a rebel in a place he obviously didn’t belong just to steal time with that little girl. On those pictures progressed, the subject’s visage becoming sadder before growing ultimately colder. It tugged at her even though the face had become something frightening. It certainly didn’t match what she saw now, sleeping peacefully beneath the collage and using the leather jacket as a blanket. Rio fought off whatever force was keeping her in place, at this rate she was going to have to skip going home to change and get going. Zora would have something she could wear. She slipped out the front door and made it all the way to the top of the stairs when the voice halted her.
“Hey...” It was a deep baritone, and not the animalistic growl she’d fantasized, though she did need to swallow and take a deep breath before turning around to face the giant. He was still gigantic, that part had only been slightly exaggerated by her eyes last night. His dark head of hair high enough that it may need to duck through most doorways even without his shoes. His skin, what wasn’t covered by the white tank top he wore, was far from pristine drawing her eyes to the whitened scars that said much more than any real words could. He stepped forward boldly, pushing a warm cellophane packet into her hand that smelled of strawberries which thankfully masked that other scent.
“...breakfast is the most important meal of the day.” Rio’s eyes fell to the cellophane, a packet of strawberry pop tarts that was still warm from whatever he’d used to heat it.
“Thanks.” Rio murmured never knowing if the giant had heard it because the hallway was empty and the door to his apartment was swinging shut. She’d only looked down a moment, right? A guy that size shouldn’t be able to move so quietly, that should have broken some kind of law of physics.
Opportunity dances with those already on the dance floor. ~ H. Jackson Brown, Jr.
- Eddie Blake
- Adventurer
- Posts: 49
- Joined: Wed Feb 22, 2017 9:13 pm
- Location: Drifting
Re: Eliminator (18+, Violence, Strong Language,Mature Themes)
La Futura
I Gotsta Get Paid
25 fly diamonds in my ring
25 12s in the trunks to bang, oh lord
Make it move makin 25 mill'
Got enough for a big damn 99 seville c'mon
25 lighters on my dressa, dressa
I gotsta get paid
I got 25 lighters on my dressa, dressa
You know I gotta get paid ~ ZZ Top
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Yvonne Chilikov rounded the corner off of route 52 onto East Pete Rose way. It was only a block from her new place. It was far nicer than where she’d lived, hell one month’s rent would have paid for three at the old place. She hadn’t wanted to accept the place, but Jack had insisted and she felt a certain amount of obligation. After all it had been Jack who’d had her mother placed in a live in rehab facility, and it was on A.D.A Jack Sherwood’s recommendation that her brother had gotten that scholarship to the Silver River Academy. There was no way that Rio or Yvonne could afford the thirty five thousand dollar a year price tag for that place. Of course that obligation had become something more once Jack had pulled her off the street. She’d left the name Rio behind. Rio was a whore, Yvonne was...well she tried to tell herself she wasn’t but no matter how hard she tried it always felt dishonest. Still, it was better to have one married man than the rogues gallery Rio dealt with, wasn’t it? She wondered sometimes, especially when Jack treated her like he owned her. That was how she knew that Rio was not really gone. When he was there, that instinct had her being compliant, conforming to what she knew he wanted. He knew she was just seventeen, she’d catch him sometimes with a warped little grin which told her he was thinking about exactly that. She’d seen it before on other faces, though none so affluent as the A.D.A. It was part of the reason that Yvonne was defiant, she’d been told in no uncertain terms that she was to stay at the apartment and wait for him today. She promised she would, waited an hour after showering and dressed to leave. She’d be back long before he got there, and Jack would never know that she’d spent an entire afternoon at Sawyer Point Park and Yeatman’s cove.
Bold with a full array of sassy instigated itself into Yvonne’s stride. Her dark hair, because Jack insisted that he wouldn’t tolerate a ginger, swayed with every brass filled step. Cars whooshed past her, though a fair amount of their engines were rumbling growls. Seemed like everyone was getting those lately, it was becoming far too commonplace. At least that made it easy to ignore. That was something she’d come to regret the moment she realized she was being followed by just such a rumble. She let it go on for a little while, that coy roll of gate had done this kind of thing before. It never took long for the driver to get cajoled into moving on by traffic behind them. She could hear frustrated honking further back, that was usually enough. When it wasn’t, she could always duck into a store and pretend to shop. A sure sign that the show was over. Today that felt much too passive, she had as much right to be out as anyone no matter what Jack or some asshole in an overpowered gear box thought! Okay, so maybe Rio was closer to the surface than Yvonne wanted to admit because she stopped walking, palmed a jutting hip which had the hem of her mini skirt tugging at her thigh ever so slightly, and dropped a no-look ten-point-oh middle finger directly at the driver of the noise polluter he was in. Satisfaction joined the already brazen attitude in the form of a smile as the car’s engine reved and accelerated on by. It remained there for almost six seconds, definitely more than five if only by a couple of clicks. A dawning registration as it pulled out of the lane, parked several car lengths further down the road and the passenger side door opened. It wasn’t that the guy had pulled over, she could give the verbal dress down about as well as it could be done. It was the car...it was that car. Yvonne’s blood rushed inwards, leaving nothing but gooseflesh in its wake. Blood, an old stain that spoke volumes waited in front of her in the form of a paint job on an old Mercury Cougar Eliminator. Sure, others might have that paint job, but none of them would have that distinctive license plate. On the verge of trembling, Yvonne checked it letter by digit just in case...just in the hope that she was wrong… ELMN8R ...she wasn’t.
Six months hadn’t been nearly enough of an interval to purge the memory from Yvonne’s mind. Six years would be hard pressed to erase memories burned into her mind. It was Sammy’s doing, something that he’d admitted to her at the time only she’d thought he was making it up. The car had been in front of their building for a solid week, Sammy had taken that time to become overly sulky and make an absolute nuisance out of himself with an overly diligent habit of following her everywhere. That was after Max had disappeared, after he’d stopped supplying her mother with the poison that kept her too high to care for herself let alone anyone else. In that time her brother had become a veritable watchdog. Yvonne understood now, but when it was happening she’d endured as long as she could before demanding that he leave her alone. She’d even gone so far as to tell him that if it would keep him out from under foot, she was going to go down the hall and demand the guy in 314 give back all of his stuff.
“You can’t do that, Yvonne… I don’t know what will happen if you do.” Horror had tightened up Sammy’s face, that was the only thing which kept her from giving him an acid retort like only older siblings can.
“What’s the worst that could happen, Sammy? He says no?” Yvonne studied his face as he shook his head so stiffly his neck could have been encased in ice.
“No, much much worse. Max could come back. I’m not blind, I know what he was doing. I took care of it. I made sure he couldn’t do that anymore.” Yvonne watched as Sammy swallowed hard and darted his eyes everywhere but at her. She was actually grateful he wasn’t looking because it gave her a moment to preemptively head off a tear. She hadn’t known that Sammy was aware, and had done her best to pretend nothing was happening.
“Max just ran out, like dad did. Mom’s got a thing for losers.” She said it without bitterness having resolved herself long ago that it was the truth. Besides, what Sammy was saying was impossible.
“No! I hired him!” Something in how he said the last word had her curious, like she was supposed to know from the pronoun exactly who Sammy meant. Her face must have shown how clueless she was because he whispered. “Carmine Logan.”
“Haha, yeah, that’s a good one, Sammy. You had me going there.” The name rang more than a bell to...well, to Rio. It had her sixth sense feeling all prickly. But there was no way because… “You couldn’t afford him. You don’t even have any money, and how could you get in touch with a guy like that?”
“I gave Ricky Giordano my IPad, and he swiped it off his old man’s phone. So I called him, and gave him my best comics.” Sammy’s face was sincere, even worried. Yvonne’s eyebrow still went up skeptically. “Promise you won’t go tryin’ ta get em back. That’d break the deal and Max would come back.”
“Because that would be much worse than you having someone killed.” Yvonne couldn’t help it, that bit of skepticism had found its way into her voice.
“You’re my sister, someone needs to take care of you. I’m all there is.” She was about to retort, but Sammy took that moment to pull her into a tight hug. She could feel that he was shaking. “Promise you won’t.”
“I won’t.” Yvonne knew it was a lie before she even said it. Sammy was being ridiculous. Max’s disappearance coming so soon after their new neighbor’s appearance was just a coincidence. Her brother was only seeing what he wanted to. The promise was enough to keep Sammy from keeping an unwanted vigil over her though.
Yvonne had walked down the hallway for the next three days, stopping in front of the door to 314 and always stopping short of knocking. She knew she was being stupid, letting rumor frighten her out of what she knew was the right thing to do. Max had been gone a week the last time she tried. She stepped quietly out into the hallway long after she was certain that Sammy had gone to sleep and made her way silently down the hall in her stockinged feet. Once again she didn’t knock. She didn’t need to, the door hadn’t been pulled closed hard enough. She could push it open if she could find the courage. Yvonne grit her teeth together and berated herself for being a silly child. Resolve gained, she put her hand to the door’s face and stepped forward.
The room beyond was almost empty. The pictures which had graced the wall the last time she’d been here had been pulled down. There were bits of tape still stuck to the wall they’d been hung on. Her brother’s stuff was still in the center of the room, though she’d find out later that the man had kept two of the comic books. One was about a heroine called Phantom Blonde. The other was a Scourge of the Seven Seas Sub Mariner book that had him in a fight with Thor on the front. The bedroom where she’d slept that night still held the mattress, though it was bare of everything except a note pinned to the top which read…
Can’t hang out and wait for you to get the nerve up to knock. Yvonne is safe, but Rio owes me. Hope she doesn’t forget.
CL
Yvonne hadn’t forgotten. She still had the note, half afraid that he would know if she threw it away and come for her. It was even now wedged into her english lit school book to keep Jack from finding it and start asking questions she wasn’t prepared to answer. She should’ve listened to him. If she had she wouldn’t be frozen in place right now. She could call him. He’d be upset that she was out, true, would punish her probably, make her call him daddy while he did. Slowly her fingers closed around her phone, extracting it from her purse. It rang the moment she had it in front of her face. Unknown Number, Yvonne stared at it for several seconds before answering it. She knew who would be on the other end of the line.
“I’m afraid that Jack Sherwood is not going to make it tonight. He had to go to the hospital to take care of his wife. Terrible traffic in this city ya know.” It was the voice she remembered, except this time it wasn’t offering her food and being nice no matter how much it sounded like it.
“What do you want?” Did she sound as frightened as she felt? Surely she had better control than that.
”You look better as a redhead. Get in the car, Rio. I told you, you owe me, and… I got’sta get paid.” Yvonne whimpered inside, but Rio moved forward towards the open door. It was just another job, right?
I Gotsta Get Paid
25 fly diamonds in my ring
25 12s in the trunks to bang, oh lord
Make it move makin 25 mill'
Got enough for a big damn 99 seville c'mon
25 lighters on my dressa, dressa
I gotsta get paid
I got 25 lighters on my dressa, dressa
You know I gotta get paid ~ ZZ Top
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Yvonne Chilikov rounded the corner off of route 52 onto East Pete Rose way. It was only a block from her new place. It was far nicer than where she’d lived, hell one month’s rent would have paid for three at the old place. She hadn’t wanted to accept the place, but Jack had insisted and she felt a certain amount of obligation. After all it had been Jack who’d had her mother placed in a live in rehab facility, and it was on A.D.A Jack Sherwood’s recommendation that her brother had gotten that scholarship to the Silver River Academy. There was no way that Rio or Yvonne could afford the thirty five thousand dollar a year price tag for that place. Of course that obligation had become something more once Jack had pulled her off the street. She’d left the name Rio behind. Rio was a whore, Yvonne was...well she tried to tell herself she wasn’t but no matter how hard she tried it always felt dishonest. Still, it was better to have one married man than the rogues gallery Rio dealt with, wasn’t it? She wondered sometimes, especially when Jack treated her like he owned her. That was how she knew that Rio was not really gone. When he was there, that instinct had her being compliant, conforming to what she knew he wanted. He knew she was just seventeen, she’d catch him sometimes with a warped little grin which told her he was thinking about exactly that. She’d seen it before on other faces, though none so affluent as the A.D.A. It was part of the reason that Yvonne was defiant, she’d been told in no uncertain terms that she was to stay at the apartment and wait for him today. She promised she would, waited an hour after showering and dressed to leave. She’d be back long before he got there, and Jack would never know that she’d spent an entire afternoon at Sawyer Point Park and Yeatman’s cove.
Bold with a full array of sassy instigated itself into Yvonne’s stride. Her dark hair, because Jack insisted that he wouldn’t tolerate a ginger, swayed with every brass filled step. Cars whooshed past her, though a fair amount of their engines were rumbling growls. Seemed like everyone was getting those lately, it was becoming far too commonplace. At least that made it easy to ignore. That was something she’d come to regret the moment she realized she was being followed by just such a rumble. She let it go on for a little while, that coy roll of gate had done this kind of thing before. It never took long for the driver to get cajoled into moving on by traffic behind them. She could hear frustrated honking further back, that was usually enough. When it wasn’t, she could always duck into a store and pretend to shop. A sure sign that the show was over. Today that felt much too passive, she had as much right to be out as anyone no matter what Jack or some asshole in an overpowered gear box thought! Okay, so maybe Rio was closer to the surface than Yvonne wanted to admit because she stopped walking, palmed a jutting hip which had the hem of her mini skirt tugging at her thigh ever so slightly, and dropped a no-look ten-point-oh middle finger directly at the driver of the noise polluter he was in. Satisfaction joined the already brazen attitude in the form of a smile as the car’s engine reved and accelerated on by. It remained there for almost six seconds, definitely more than five if only by a couple of clicks. A dawning registration as it pulled out of the lane, parked several car lengths further down the road and the passenger side door opened. It wasn’t that the guy had pulled over, she could give the verbal dress down about as well as it could be done. It was the car...it was that car. Yvonne’s blood rushed inwards, leaving nothing but gooseflesh in its wake. Blood, an old stain that spoke volumes waited in front of her in the form of a paint job on an old Mercury Cougar Eliminator. Sure, others might have that paint job, but none of them would have that distinctive license plate. On the verge of trembling, Yvonne checked it letter by digit just in case...just in the hope that she was wrong… ELMN8R ...she wasn’t.
Six months hadn’t been nearly enough of an interval to purge the memory from Yvonne’s mind. Six years would be hard pressed to erase memories burned into her mind. It was Sammy’s doing, something that he’d admitted to her at the time only she’d thought he was making it up. The car had been in front of their building for a solid week, Sammy had taken that time to become overly sulky and make an absolute nuisance out of himself with an overly diligent habit of following her everywhere. That was after Max had disappeared, after he’d stopped supplying her mother with the poison that kept her too high to care for herself let alone anyone else. In that time her brother had become a veritable watchdog. Yvonne understood now, but when it was happening she’d endured as long as she could before demanding that he leave her alone. She’d even gone so far as to tell him that if it would keep him out from under foot, she was going to go down the hall and demand the guy in 314 give back all of his stuff.
“You can’t do that, Yvonne… I don’t know what will happen if you do.” Horror had tightened up Sammy’s face, that was the only thing which kept her from giving him an acid retort like only older siblings can.
“What’s the worst that could happen, Sammy? He says no?” Yvonne studied his face as he shook his head so stiffly his neck could have been encased in ice.
“No, much much worse. Max could come back. I’m not blind, I know what he was doing. I took care of it. I made sure he couldn’t do that anymore.” Yvonne watched as Sammy swallowed hard and darted his eyes everywhere but at her. She was actually grateful he wasn’t looking because it gave her a moment to preemptively head off a tear. She hadn’t known that Sammy was aware, and had done her best to pretend nothing was happening.
“Max just ran out, like dad did. Mom’s got a thing for losers.” She said it without bitterness having resolved herself long ago that it was the truth. Besides, what Sammy was saying was impossible.
“No! I hired him!” Something in how he said the last word had her curious, like she was supposed to know from the pronoun exactly who Sammy meant. Her face must have shown how clueless she was because he whispered. “Carmine Logan.”
“Haha, yeah, that’s a good one, Sammy. You had me going there.” The name rang more than a bell to...well, to Rio. It had her sixth sense feeling all prickly. But there was no way because… “You couldn’t afford him. You don’t even have any money, and how could you get in touch with a guy like that?”
“I gave Ricky Giordano my IPad, and he swiped it off his old man’s phone. So I called him, and gave him my best comics.” Sammy’s face was sincere, even worried. Yvonne’s eyebrow still went up skeptically. “Promise you won’t go tryin’ ta get em back. That’d break the deal and Max would come back.”
“Because that would be much worse than you having someone killed.” Yvonne couldn’t help it, that bit of skepticism had found its way into her voice.
“You’re my sister, someone needs to take care of you. I’m all there is.” She was about to retort, but Sammy took that moment to pull her into a tight hug. She could feel that he was shaking. “Promise you won’t.”
“I won’t.” Yvonne knew it was a lie before she even said it. Sammy was being ridiculous. Max’s disappearance coming so soon after their new neighbor’s appearance was just a coincidence. Her brother was only seeing what he wanted to. The promise was enough to keep Sammy from keeping an unwanted vigil over her though.
Yvonne had walked down the hallway for the next three days, stopping in front of the door to 314 and always stopping short of knocking. She knew she was being stupid, letting rumor frighten her out of what she knew was the right thing to do. Max had been gone a week the last time she tried. She stepped quietly out into the hallway long after she was certain that Sammy had gone to sleep and made her way silently down the hall in her stockinged feet. Once again she didn’t knock. She didn’t need to, the door hadn’t been pulled closed hard enough. She could push it open if she could find the courage. Yvonne grit her teeth together and berated herself for being a silly child. Resolve gained, she put her hand to the door’s face and stepped forward.
The room beyond was almost empty. The pictures which had graced the wall the last time she’d been here had been pulled down. There were bits of tape still stuck to the wall they’d been hung on. Her brother’s stuff was still in the center of the room, though she’d find out later that the man had kept two of the comic books. One was about a heroine called Phantom Blonde. The other was a Scourge of the Seven Seas Sub Mariner book that had him in a fight with Thor on the front. The bedroom where she’d slept that night still held the mattress, though it was bare of everything except a note pinned to the top which read…
Can’t hang out and wait for you to get the nerve up to knock. Yvonne is safe, but Rio owes me. Hope she doesn’t forget.
CL
Yvonne hadn’t forgotten. She still had the note, half afraid that he would know if she threw it away and come for her. It was even now wedged into her english lit school book to keep Jack from finding it and start asking questions she wasn’t prepared to answer. She should’ve listened to him. If she had she wouldn’t be frozen in place right now. She could call him. He’d be upset that she was out, true, would punish her probably, make her call him daddy while he did. Slowly her fingers closed around her phone, extracting it from her purse. It rang the moment she had it in front of her face. Unknown Number, Yvonne stared at it for several seconds before answering it. She knew who would be on the other end of the line.
“I’m afraid that Jack Sherwood is not going to make it tonight. He had to go to the hospital to take care of his wife. Terrible traffic in this city ya know.” It was the voice she remembered, except this time it wasn’t offering her food and being nice no matter how much it sounded like it.
“What do you want?” Did she sound as frightened as she felt? Surely she had better control than that.
”You look better as a redhead. Get in the car, Rio. I told you, you owe me, and… I got’sta get paid.” Yvonne whimpered inside, but Rio moved forward towards the open door. It was just another job, right?
Opportunity dances with those already on the dance floor. ~ H. Jackson Brown, Jr.
- Eddie Blake
- Adventurer
- Posts: 49
- Joined: Wed Feb 22, 2017 9:13 pm
- Location: Drifting
Re: Eliminator (18+, Violence, Strong Language,Mature Themes)
ZZ Top's
Legs
She's got legs, she knows how to use them
She never begs, she knows how to choose them
She's got a dime all of the time
Stays out at night movin' through time
Oh, I want her, said, I got to have her
The girl is alright, she's alright ~ ZZ Top
-------------------------------------------------------
The leather interior of the car was cool on Yvonne’s skin, a wave of air conditioned air washed across her legs as she closed the door. Carmine was wearing a tight jade colored t-shirt which clung to him, emphasizing the contours of every muscle. He didn’t move the car, just looked at her until she reached over her right shoulder and pulled the seatbelt into place. Only after he heard it click into place did they start down the road. Yvonne was uncertain what to do, even tasking her pseudonym didn’t help. Rio was at as much of a loss. Normally this sort of thing was easy, it was obvious what men wanted by where and how they looked at her. Tentatively, she reached out towards him intending to run a seductive hand down the length of his arm. A moment before she touched him he pulled it away from her leaving her even more confused.
“I thought…” his disapproving look stopped her tongue. “Do you not like girls?” Yvonne’s eyes went wide at her own audacity, she shrunk away from the big man like he would reach out and slap her face. Carmine, however, didn’t react at all.
“I like women, not underaged girls no matter how many men they’ve fucked.” She detected an edge to his voice, anger held under the tightest of control. “I’m also disappointed. You’re afraid of me.”
“Everyone with half a brain is afraid of you. I didn’t say anything, no one knows that you were involved.” Despite his expressing disappointment, Yvonne felt the need to prove that he had no reason to harm her. Her fingers clenched around the hem of her skirt, bunching it into a fist and holding on. Just because he hadn’t done anything to her yet didn’t mean it wouldn’t come when she wasn’t ready. She’d make it a point to be ready.
“Have I ever done anything to hurt you? The answer is no, don’t search your brain for too long. As for not saying anything, I think that had less to do with me and more to do with implicating Sammy in the act.”
It had taken nearly a month since the hitman had left his note for Max’s body to be discovered. Drug deal gone bad, the watch had claimed. Yvonne hadn’t contradicted it, wouldn’t have because what Carmine had said was correct. Sammy would be hurt if she talked. “Of course he wasn’t quite so secretive, was he?”
“Sammy didn’t tell anyone…” Yvonne thought about it and realized that was not true. “...except me, and we’re not gonna talk. You don’t have to do this.” Her words brought a smile, well more like the curling of one side of his face. Jesus, even that looked threatening.
“I have to make a stop.” Carmine pulled onto Fountain Square, made a quick left and pulled up next to the parking meter in front of Graeter’s. He hadn’t acknowledged what she’d said, maybe he was thinking about it? “Don’t go anywhere Rio, we’re just getting started here.” She watched him get out of the car and go inside the parlor wondering what a guy like that could be doing in such a benign place. She was tempted to do exactly what the hitman had said not to, this was a day for defiance afterall. Still, Rio was in the back of her mind reminding her that there were them you messed with, and them you didn’t. Juice’s words came back to her.
She watched him as covertly as she could through the heavily tinted window of the Cougar. No reason a shop clerk couldn’t need his services, right? She couldn’t read the girl behind the counter’s lips, but there was nothing in her body language to indicate that was the case. If anything it looked like she had seen him before. Ten minutes ticked by like frozen honey before Carmine emerged again. He pulled open the driver’s side door, depositing a pie in the back seat. The distinctly feminine handwriting on the note attached to it was easy to make out…Pumpkin Pie. Once that had been accomplished Carmine handed her a large smoothie.
Yvonne eyed the beverage suspiciously. “Drugged, or poisoned?” She wasn’t sure there had been time for that, and there was the fact that she recognized the young woman behind the counter. She didn’t recall the name, but Zora, one of the other girls from Ogden street had a weakness for Graeter’s. Yvonne had ordered from the girl behind the counter on more than one occasion. There was no reason to suspect her, except that this was an offering from someone she was afraid of.
Logan rolled his eyes and shook his head as he sat in the driver’s seat and pulled the belt across his body. For a brief instant Yvonne thought that there was a look of delight on his face until she’d asked her question. He didn’t answer her, knowing perhaps that nothing he said would convince her. Instead he just put his mouth to the straw and sucked in some of the contents. His lips were well formed and surprisingly supple, she’d have expected them to be as hard as the rest of him seemed to be. Her thoughts drifted, against her will, to wondering what it would be like to kiss those lips. During the momentary lapse she’d failed to notice how he’d presented the cup to her once again. She blushed, dropping her eyes, when contact with the paper cylinder brought her back to reality. Her fingers closed around the container which she drew to her own mouth with only half a thought about should she drink after him. She’d done much worse. She had to fight off that internal question about testing his mouth with hers again. It was easier this time, the flavor of the smoothie was enough. Raspberry cookies and cream was her favorite flavor from the shop, it brought a wary sidelong glance towards the man who had cranked over the engine and put the car into gear. How had he known?
“Are you planning to kill me?” He didn’t look at her as he pulled out onto the street again. Logan simply said no and spoke no more. She could sense his irritation at her.
“You don’t want sex, aren’t planning to kill me, what exactly do you want from me?” Good god, she sounded petulant about it like some child. Was she really so disappointed that he didn’t want these things, or was it the way he treated her like she was beneath his notice.
“It isn’t what I want, Rio, it’s what I need, and you’ll give me everything that I need from you because you do know exactly how much you owe me.” The air conditioning's chilled air was nothing compared to the tone of the man behind the wheel. “You’ll know soon enough. For now put your mouth around that and shut the fuck up.” Clearly her accusation about him dosing the drink had put his back up.
“And if I don’t, then you’ll kill me?” Damnit! Rio’s defiance bled right through Yvonne’s fear and did the exact opposite of what she’d been commanded to do. She tried to dissipate her words by clamping her teeth down on the straw and chewing nervously, the problem was that Rio’s defiance was also accompanied by morbid curiosity. “What’s it like to kill someone for money? You remember the first time?” Rio was multitalented, managing to talk around the straw with only a mild lisp. She could feel her face take on the look that so many had said was too cute to stay angry at. His foot pressed the accelerator leaving only the engine roar to answer her...at least that was the only answer at first.
“So, we’re sharing now?!” Carmine’s eyes cut into her so deeply she expected to feel blood flowing. “Why not tell me what it was like the first time one of those perverted pedophiles put a twenty in your hand just so he could sweat over you until the excitement had him bursting?”
Rio winced at the hardness of his voice, Yvonne hidden beneath the whore’s skin wanted to weep. Logan leaned towards her, never taking his eyes from the road. His hand found the latch to the glove compartment and opened it. There were a multitude of handguns sequestered in what had to be a customized rack. Blindly he pulled one free and pressed it into her chest. Cold titanium plated gunmetal flattened her left breast though not one sliver of his hand touched her. She was too dirty for someone like him to want to touch. That’s how it felt at least. She’d been fine until that moment, now she couldn’t stop her eyes from welling up.
“Are you scared?” She nodded at his question, he still had the weapon pressed to her, though she hadn’t raised a hand to take it from him. He must’ve grown tired of holding it, because he let it drop into her lap and took hold of the wheel once more.
“Pick it up!” She jumped at his shout, reflexively reaching out for the gun in her lap. “Now aim it at me.” It was quieter, less startling and far more demanding of her. “I have five grand in my jacket, you need only to pull the trigger and it belongs to you. Hell, you’ll even get credit for killing Carmine Logan. I’m the bad guy, Rio. There’s no witnesses, all you have to do is squeeze.”
In her head, Rio was warning her that to do it at this speed could kill her in the resultant crash. As though Logan were reading her mind he slowed the car down, much to the dismay of the driver who had been following too closely. There was a honk of a horn and a bird flipped as the minivan flew by them. A new determination went through her, this was the opportunity. She could end this...now. Her finger flexed on the trigger, she could feel the moment the minute travel of it ended. All she had to do was squeeze, but she couldn’t. The strength in her arm gave out, dropping the weapon to her lap again. “I can’t…”
“Guess you’ll never know what it’s like then.” Carmine accelerated once again. “Better make yourself comfortable, we have a long ride ahead of us.” He turned burnt sienna eyes on her for a moment giving her a wry smile. “Hopefully it will be a quiet one.” She leaned sulkily against the passenger side door in resignation. This was not going to be a quick errand. Whatever was coming was going to take a long time. Jack was going to kill her.
They didn’t stop driving for two hours, Yvonne had plenty of questions she left unsaid. Had she been allowed to ask them it was possible that the nervousness inside her would have dissipated long since. There had been a text to her phone. It was from Jack explaining that he was at the hospital, apparently Carmine hadn’t lied about Jack’s wife being in an accident. It occurred to her that this was not the first time that the killer hadn’t lied to her. It felt strange, Jack was an upstanding citizen, yet he lied all the damn time. This guy was as far from Jack as a person could get but gave her only the truth.
They’d exited the interstate and taken to back roads almost half an hour ago, they were far south of the city now, and the old Ford was rambling down a dirt road which ended at the driveway to an old garage. The overhead door rose at the push of a button on the sun visor. Lights flickered to life as they passed through the opening. The fluorescent bars failed to illuminate the space within, the building was just too vast for so feeble a light source. The door shut behind them. It wasn’t until Carmine got out and pulled a lever that the ceiling within awoke with much stronger light. Yvonne wasn’t really sure what she was looking at. The place was furnished, mismatched and put together haphazardly but clean. They seemed almost new.
“Homey.” She’d seen much worse and had praised it. This tone of unimpressed boredom from her was most likely retaliation at having been forced to remain silent for so long. “Maybe you should use that five grand for a decorator.”
Carmine acted like she’d said nothing. “Come on, it’s this way.” He led her down the center of the garage, it was segregated by walls forming large stalls on both sides, each one had a different old car in it. They were in different stages of repair, it seemed likely that there was a fortune in muscle car metal housed here. She followed him, not closely, her pace was slow because she couldn’t keep the fascination with ancient relics out of her. The door in the wall at the end of the room was painted blue and heavy judging by the amount of effort Carmine put into opening it. He looked back at her visibly trying to keep a tight rein on his patience. Yvonne forced herself to move faster passing by the last stall which was occupied by something purple though she didn’t take the time to investigate it under the killer’s gaze.
Beyond the door was a stairwell which only went downwards. It was longer than she expected, seeming to skip two floors before ending. Perhaps it had, That was the impression she got when they went through the door at the bottom. The ceiling was more than vaulted, the light didn’t touch it, probably because the fixtures were dropped down to about ten feet overhead. Upstairs the place had seemed thrown together, down here could have been the cover shot for Interior Design magazine. The leather furniture in the sitting room was angled to surround, of all things, a solid looking stripper pole.
The wall above the couch had a mosaic of images, string wound its way around pins in a veritable spiderweb. “I’m not going to help you kill someone. You’ll have to take me home if that’s what you want.” It seemed obvious, the ends of all the strings went back to the same image.
“We’re not going to kill someone, we’re going to rescue them. Still, that’s our target. We need him to find… It doesn’t matter, I know you took dancing classes until you decided on a different type of entertainment. I trust you can use that?” Carmine indicated the stripper pole.
“I didn’t realize hitmen did rescues.” Yvonne folded her arms across her abdomen, ignoring his question.
“Rescued you didn’t I? Now can you, or not?” Carmine set his pie down on the arm of a chair, went to a drawer in the kitchen and pulled out a spoon. “There’s food in the fridge if you’re hungry… after you show me how well you move.”
“I’m hardly dressed for pole dancing.” She waved a hand over her outfit as though to make it more obvious to him.
“That room right there… get dressed for it or do it fucking naked. I don’t give a damn either way.” He wasn’t even looking at her as he said it, his eyes completely focused on the desert he’d transferred to his lap. “Second best pumpkin pie in the city ya know.”
Yvonne wanted to say something biting, but found herself curious instead. “I’ve had it, and wonder whose you think is better?”
“Trust me…” he looked wistful as he spoke. “...this is a pale distant second to my favorite pumpkin pie.”
Yvonne huffed, planted her hands on her hips and shook her head. It was unseemly that someone as dangerous as Carmine Logan should look like a harmless boy over some sweets. She shook her head again and moved into the room he’d pointed out, closing the door behind her. “Who’s our target?” There were a lot of suitable outfits, except for the tops. Those would not fit her. She ended up tying her shirt tight at the hem and putting on a pair of yoga pants.
“Anton Shaw. He’s Bratva, usually has a significant security presence. Only time he’s without them is when he’s alone with a girl. He’s got tastes which you’ll fit right into… soon as you turn that mess of hair back the color it’s supposed to be. There’s dye in the bathroom.”
She would have to bleach out the black before dyeing it back red. She hoped she didn’t ruin her hair. She checked herself out in the mirror, sighing before returning to where Carmine still sat slowly consuming the pie. “I’ll need music, it’s going to take a while for me to get back into practice.”
Carmine sent her an unconcerned shrug. “We got a couple days before Shaw’s in town.” He picked up an IPad, running fingers across the screen. When he was done ZZ Top’s Legs burst out of speakers built into the walls.
“Days?!” She might as well have mouthed the words, her voice was easily drowned out by the guitars. “Jack is going to kill me.”
“No… he won’t.” Carmine hadn’t even looked up at her as he replied to a statement that he couldn’t possibly have heard. She stepped to the pole and started to dance with still more questions in her head. Was the hitman still not lying to her? What would he do to stop it? Why was that part of her which was Rio hoping it would be something excessively violent?
Legs
She's got legs, she knows how to use them
She never begs, she knows how to choose them
She's got a dime all of the time
Stays out at night movin' through time
Oh, I want her, said, I got to have her
The girl is alright, she's alright ~ ZZ Top
-------------------------------------------------------
The leather interior of the car was cool on Yvonne’s skin, a wave of air conditioned air washed across her legs as she closed the door. Carmine was wearing a tight jade colored t-shirt which clung to him, emphasizing the contours of every muscle. He didn’t move the car, just looked at her until she reached over her right shoulder and pulled the seatbelt into place. Only after he heard it click into place did they start down the road. Yvonne was uncertain what to do, even tasking her pseudonym didn’t help. Rio was at as much of a loss. Normally this sort of thing was easy, it was obvious what men wanted by where and how they looked at her. Tentatively, she reached out towards him intending to run a seductive hand down the length of his arm. A moment before she touched him he pulled it away from her leaving her even more confused.
“I thought…” his disapproving look stopped her tongue. “Do you not like girls?” Yvonne’s eyes went wide at her own audacity, she shrunk away from the big man like he would reach out and slap her face. Carmine, however, didn’t react at all.
“I like women, not underaged girls no matter how many men they’ve fucked.” She detected an edge to his voice, anger held under the tightest of control. “I’m also disappointed. You’re afraid of me.”
“Everyone with half a brain is afraid of you. I didn’t say anything, no one knows that you were involved.” Despite his expressing disappointment, Yvonne felt the need to prove that he had no reason to harm her. Her fingers clenched around the hem of her skirt, bunching it into a fist and holding on. Just because he hadn’t done anything to her yet didn’t mean it wouldn’t come when she wasn’t ready. She’d make it a point to be ready.
“Have I ever done anything to hurt you? The answer is no, don’t search your brain for too long. As for not saying anything, I think that had less to do with me and more to do with implicating Sammy in the act.”
It had taken nearly a month since the hitman had left his note for Max’s body to be discovered. Drug deal gone bad, the watch had claimed. Yvonne hadn’t contradicted it, wouldn’t have because what Carmine had said was correct. Sammy would be hurt if she talked. “Of course he wasn’t quite so secretive, was he?”
“Sammy didn’t tell anyone…” Yvonne thought about it and realized that was not true. “...except me, and we’re not gonna talk. You don’t have to do this.” Her words brought a smile, well more like the curling of one side of his face. Jesus, even that looked threatening.
“I have to make a stop.” Carmine pulled onto Fountain Square, made a quick left and pulled up next to the parking meter in front of Graeter’s. He hadn’t acknowledged what she’d said, maybe he was thinking about it? “Don’t go anywhere Rio, we’re just getting started here.” She watched him get out of the car and go inside the parlor wondering what a guy like that could be doing in such a benign place. She was tempted to do exactly what the hitman had said not to, this was a day for defiance afterall. Still, Rio was in the back of her mind reminding her that there were them you messed with, and them you didn’t. Juice’s words came back to her.
She watched him as covertly as she could through the heavily tinted window of the Cougar. No reason a shop clerk couldn’t need his services, right? She couldn’t read the girl behind the counter’s lips, but there was nothing in her body language to indicate that was the case. If anything it looked like she had seen him before. Ten minutes ticked by like frozen honey before Carmine emerged again. He pulled open the driver’s side door, depositing a pie in the back seat. The distinctly feminine handwriting on the note attached to it was easy to make out…Pumpkin Pie. Once that had been accomplished Carmine handed her a large smoothie.
Yvonne eyed the beverage suspiciously. “Drugged, or poisoned?” She wasn’t sure there had been time for that, and there was the fact that she recognized the young woman behind the counter. She didn’t recall the name, but Zora, one of the other girls from Ogden street had a weakness for Graeter’s. Yvonne had ordered from the girl behind the counter on more than one occasion. There was no reason to suspect her, except that this was an offering from someone she was afraid of.
Logan rolled his eyes and shook his head as he sat in the driver’s seat and pulled the belt across his body. For a brief instant Yvonne thought that there was a look of delight on his face until she’d asked her question. He didn’t answer her, knowing perhaps that nothing he said would convince her. Instead he just put his mouth to the straw and sucked in some of the contents. His lips were well formed and surprisingly supple, she’d have expected them to be as hard as the rest of him seemed to be. Her thoughts drifted, against her will, to wondering what it would be like to kiss those lips. During the momentary lapse she’d failed to notice how he’d presented the cup to her once again. She blushed, dropping her eyes, when contact with the paper cylinder brought her back to reality. Her fingers closed around the container which she drew to her own mouth with only half a thought about should she drink after him. She’d done much worse. She had to fight off that internal question about testing his mouth with hers again. It was easier this time, the flavor of the smoothie was enough. Raspberry cookies and cream was her favorite flavor from the shop, it brought a wary sidelong glance towards the man who had cranked over the engine and put the car into gear. How had he known?
“Are you planning to kill me?” He didn’t look at her as he pulled out onto the street again. Logan simply said no and spoke no more. She could sense his irritation at her.
“You don’t want sex, aren’t planning to kill me, what exactly do you want from me?” Good god, she sounded petulant about it like some child. Was she really so disappointed that he didn’t want these things, or was it the way he treated her like she was beneath his notice.
“It isn’t what I want, Rio, it’s what I need, and you’ll give me everything that I need from you because you do know exactly how much you owe me.” The air conditioning's chilled air was nothing compared to the tone of the man behind the wheel. “You’ll know soon enough. For now put your mouth around that and shut the fuck up.” Clearly her accusation about him dosing the drink had put his back up.
“And if I don’t, then you’ll kill me?” Damnit! Rio’s defiance bled right through Yvonne’s fear and did the exact opposite of what she’d been commanded to do. She tried to dissipate her words by clamping her teeth down on the straw and chewing nervously, the problem was that Rio’s defiance was also accompanied by morbid curiosity. “What’s it like to kill someone for money? You remember the first time?” Rio was multitalented, managing to talk around the straw with only a mild lisp. She could feel her face take on the look that so many had said was too cute to stay angry at. His foot pressed the accelerator leaving only the engine roar to answer her...at least that was the only answer at first.
“So, we’re sharing now?!” Carmine’s eyes cut into her so deeply she expected to feel blood flowing. “Why not tell me what it was like the first time one of those perverted pedophiles put a twenty in your hand just so he could sweat over you until the excitement had him bursting?”
Rio winced at the hardness of his voice, Yvonne hidden beneath the whore’s skin wanted to weep. Logan leaned towards her, never taking his eyes from the road. His hand found the latch to the glove compartment and opened it. There were a multitude of handguns sequestered in what had to be a customized rack. Blindly he pulled one free and pressed it into her chest. Cold titanium plated gunmetal flattened her left breast though not one sliver of his hand touched her. She was too dirty for someone like him to want to touch. That’s how it felt at least. She’d been fine until that moment, now she couldn’t stop her eyes from welling up.
“Are you scared?” She nodded at his question, he still had the weapon pressed to her, though she hadn’t raised a hand to take it from him. He must’ve grown tired of holding it, because he let it drop into her lap and took hold of the wheel once more.
“Pick it up!” She jumped at his shout, reflexively reaching out for the gun in her lap. “Now aim it at me.” It was quieter, less startling and far more demanding of her. “I have five grand in my jacket, you need only to pull the trigger and it belongs to you. Hell, you’ll even get credit for killing Carmine Logan. I’m the bad guy, Rio. There’s no witnesses, all you have to do is squeeze.”
In her head, Rio was warning her that to do it at this speed could kill her in the resultant crash. As though Logan were reading her mind he slowed the car down, much to the dismay of the driver who had been following too closely. There was a honk of a horn and a bird flipped as the minivan flew by them. A new determination went through her, this was the opportunity. She could end this...now. Her finger flexed on the trigger, she could feel the moment the minute travel of it ended. All she had to do was squeeze, but she couldn’t. The strength in her arm gave out, dropping the weapon to her lap again. “I can’t…”
“Guess you’ll never know what it’s like then.” Carmine accelerated once again. “Better make yourself comfortable, we have a long ride ahead of us.” He turned burnt sienna eyes on her for a moment giving her a wry smile. “Hopefully it will be a quiet one.” She leaned sulkily against the passenger side door in resignation. This was not going to be a quick errand. Whatever was coming was going to take a long time. Jack was going to kill her.
They didn’t stop driving for two hours, Yvonne had plenty of questions she left unsaid. Had she been allowed to ask them it was possible that the nervousness inside her would have dissipated long since. There had been a text to her phone. It was from Jack explaining that he was at the hospital, apparently Carmine hadn’t lied about Jack’s wife being in an accident. It occurred to her that this was not the first time that the killer hadn’t lied to her. It felt strange, Jack was an upstanding citizen, yet he lied all the damn time. This guy was as far from Jack as a person could get but gave her only the truth.
They’d exited the interstate and taken to back roads almost half an hour ago, they were far south of the city now, and the old Ford was rambling down a dirt road which ended at the driveway to an old garage. The overhead door rose at the push of a button on the sun visor. Lights flickered to life as they passed through the opening. The fluorescent bars failed to illuminate the space within, the building was just too vast for so feeble a light source. The door shut behind them. It wasn’t until Carmine got out and pulled a lever that the ceiling within awoke with much stronger light. Yvonne wasn’t really sure what she was looking at. The place was furnished, mismatched and put together haphazardly but clean. They seemed almost new.
“Homey.” She’d seen much worse and had praised it. This tone of unimpressed boredom from her was most likely retaliation at having been forced to remain silent for so long. “Maybe you should use that five grand for a decorator.”
Carmine acted like she’d said nothing. “Come on, it’s this way.” He led her down the center of the garage, it was segregated by walls forming large stalls on both sides, each one had a different old car in it. They were in different stages of repair, it seemed likely that there was a fortune in muscle car metal housed here. She followed him, not closely, her pace was slow because she couldn’t keep the fascination with ancient relics out of her. The door in the wall at the end of the room was painted blue and heavy judging by the amount of effort Carmine put into opening it. He looked back at her visibly trying to keep a tight rein on his patience. Yvonne forced herself to move faster passing by the last stall which was occupied by something purple though she didn’t take the time to investigate it under the killer’s gaze.
Beyond the door was a stairwell which only went downwards. It was longer than she expected, seeming to skip two floors before ending. Perhaps it had, That was the impression she got when they went through the door at the bottom. The ceiling was more than vaulted, the light didn’t touch it, probably because the fixtures were dropped down to about ten feet overhead. Upstairs the place had seemed thrown together, down here could have been the cover shot for Interior Design magazine. The leather furniture in the sitting room was angled to surround, of all things, a solid looking stripper pole.
The wall above the couch had a mosaic of images, string wound its way around pins in a veritable spiderweb. “I’m not going to help you kill someone. You’ll have to take me home if that’s what you want.” It seemed obvious, the ends of all the strings went back to the same image.
“We’re not going to kill someone, we’re going to rescue them. Still, that’s our target. We need him to find… It doesn’t matter, I know you took dancing classes until you decided on a different type of entertainment. I trust you can use that?” Carmine indicated the stripper pole.
“I didn’t realize hitmen did rescues.” Yvonne folded her arms across her abdomen, ignoring his question.
“Rescued you didn’t I? Now can you, or not?” Carmine set his pie down on the arm of a chair, went to a drawer in the kitchen and pulled out a spoon. “There’s food in the fridge if you’re hungry… after you show me how well you move.”
“I’m hardly dressed for pole dancing.” She waved a hand over her outfit as though to make it more obvious to him.
“That room right there… get dressed for it or do it fucking naked. I don’t give a damn either way.” He wasn’t even looking at her as he said it, his eyes completely focused on the desert he’d transferred to his lap. “Second best pumpkin pie in the city ya know.”
Yvonne wanted to say something biting, but found herself curious instead. “I’ve had it, and wonder whose you think is better?”
“Trust me…” he looked wistful as he spoke. “...this is a pale distant second to my favorite pumpkin pie.”
Yvonne huffed, planted her hands on her hips and shook her head. It was unseemly that someone as dangerous as Carmine Logan should look like a harmless boy over some sweets. She shook her head again and moved into the room he’d pointed out, closing the door behind her. “Who’s our target?” There were a lot of suitable outfits, except for the tops. Those would not fit her. She ended up tying her shirt tight at the hem and putting on a pair of yoga pants.
“Anton Shaw. He’s Bratva, usually has a significant security presence. Only time he’s without them is when he’s alone with a girl. He’s got tastes which you’ll fit right into… soon as you turn that mess of hair back the color it’s supposed to be. There’s dye in the bathroom.”
She would have to bleach out the black before dyeing it back red. She hoped she didn’t ruin her hair. She checked herself out in the mirror, sighing before returning to where Carmine still sat slowly consuming the pie. “I’ll need music, it’s going to take a while for me to get back into practice.”
Carmine sent her an unconcerned shrug. “We got a couple days before Shaw’s in town.” He picked up an IPad, running fingers across the screen. When he was done ZZ Top’s Legs burst out of speakers built into the walls.
“Days?!” She might as well have mouthed the words, her voice was easily drowned out by the guitars. “Jack is going to kill me.”
“No… he won’t.” Carmine hadn’t even looked up at her as he replied to a statement that he couldn’t possibly have heard. She stepped to the pole and started to dance with still more questions in her head. Was the hitman still not lying to her? What would he do to stop it? Why was that part of her which was Rio hoping it would be something excessively violent?
Opportunity dances with those already on the dance floor. ~ H. Jackson Brown, Jr.
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