White russian, p.22
White Russian, page 22
“What was that?” Yuri asked.
“Sex,” the man mumbled again.
Yuri approached. “What are you talking about?”
“The Cowboy. Turned off the cameras. Then we had sex.”
The man didn’t seem to be joking around.
“You had sex?” the other American asked. “With the Cowboy?”
“It wasn’t consensual,” the man said. “Entirely.”
“So how did you get away?” Yuri asked.
“Cowboy gave me wire cutters. Said you were going to kill me. Didn’t want me to die.”
“The Cowboy… wanted you to escape?” Yuri couldn’t believe it.
The man shrugged. “It was good sex.”
Yuri considered the icepick again, then rejected the idea. Something about this man’s words rang true.
“Can you prove this?” he asked.
“Sure,” the man said. “I can show you.”
“How?”
“Unchain me and bend over.”
Rather than anger at the insult, Yuri began to formulate a plan. If this were actually true, then he had more bargaining power over the Cowboy than he thought.
“Unchain them,” he told the guard. “Put them back to work in Car #12. And bring them food. And blankets.”
The guard hesitated. “Yuri, they killed Anton. And Peter.”
“Do you want to be next?” Yuri snarled.
“No. My son, he’s in Little League. I’m coaching next season.”
“Then do as I said.” Yuri turned to the Americans. “If you’re lying to me, your deaths will be more horrible than you can ever imagine.”
Then he left the car.
If he played this the right way, it could be the best of all possible outcomes.
But he needed to think.
To plan.
Yuri took out his cell phone, and texted the Cowboy.
WE HAVE THEM. COME RIGHT AWAY.
TOM AND JERRY
They snuck out of the rear exit door of the nearly-empty movie theater before the opening credits were over, then double-checked to make sure they had the ticket stubs in their pockets. They’d seen the film the night before, so they were ready to answer any and all questions about the stupid characters and silly plot when the police asked.
Before they walked out the exit, they shoved matchsticks into the lock mechanism of the door into the alley, so it wouldn’t lock.
Their bikes were already parked there. It took thirty-eight minutes for them to get home, riding as fast as they could.
Even though it was a long film, two hours and eighteen minutes, they would be cutting things close.
The ski masks, latex gloves, plastic shoe covers, and disposable rain ponchos were hidden in a garbage bag, in the bushes outside the dining room window.
So were the aluminum bats. They’d bought one at a sporting goods store, a week earlier, paying cash. The other was a gift from FatherAss, years ago.
After putting on the masks, ponchos, shoe covers, and gloves, they entered through the front door and found FatherAss in the living room, asleep in front of the TV.
That wouldn’t do.
They wanted him to see it coming.
Jerry shook him awake and said, “Hello, Father.”
Tom hit him first.
Beating a man to death was easier than the twins would have guessed. It only took three or four solid hits to the head.
Since it went so fast, they were able to spend an extra five minutes busting up the living room, kitchen, and upstairs bedrooms.
The last thing they broke was the living room window. From the outside, of course.
Then they removed their protective gear, shoved it back into the garbage bag with the bats, made sure the top was tied good and tight, and tossed the bag into the pond as they biked past, on their way back to the movie theater.
The twins parked in the alley, let themselves into the back door, pulling out and discarding the matchsticks, and took their seats five minutes before the credits rolled. No one saw them.
In the lobby, they refilled the sodas and made elaborate fun of the cashier, being such jerks that she threatened to call her manager. Afterward, they immediately went to the Denny’s around the corner, demanded needlessly complicated orders, and sent their food back, twice.
They would be remembered.
For a while, it looked like the rain that had been forecast days before wasn’t going to come. But the skies did open up, and the twins called their father’s car service to get a ride, because who would want to bike all that way when it was pouring out?
When the limo driver pulled up to their house, he noticed the broken window and told them to stay in the car as he went to go check it out.
The twins clutched each other and began to giggle, letting their guard down for the only time that night.
“Congratulations, Tom-boy,” said Jerry. “We just inherited twenty million dollars.”
JACK
With another beer in him, courtesy of McGlade, Wyatt became loudly insistent we join him in the hot tub when we returned to the ransion. I hadn’t brought a swimsuit, but the twins and Harry were down for it. To try and convince me, Wyatt brought us to the tub area, a cedar-lined room next to the kitchen.
Calling it a hot tub was probably a misnomer. It was more like a hot pool; five feet deep, large enough to do laps in, with a river-stone fireplace at one end and his and hers washrooms at the other.
I wasn’t really a hot tub fan; sitting around, doing nothing, always struck me as a waste of time. But the sheer novelty of actually trying out a hot tub that large won out over the fact that I’d have to soak in nothing but a sports bra, panties, and one of Harry’s XXL t-shirts. I changed in the Crimebago, his black MONSTER MOVIE shirt hanging to my knees.
“What do you think, Rosa?” I asked, modeling for the dog. “Can you tell it isn’t Gucci?”
Rosalina couldn’t seem to tell.
I wondered what I was supposed to do with my revolver, and decided to lug it, and my clothes and phone, in a pillowcase.
As I exited the RV, I ran into Annie, who was behind the wheel of a Chevy Silverado. She pulled up next to me and rolled down the window.
“Wyatt likes you,” she said.
“He told you that?”
“I can tell. We’re close.”
Her expression was tough to read. If they weren’t siblings, I would have guessed she was acting jealous.
“I’m married,” I told her.
“Have you ever been with a woman?”
That came out of nowhere.
“I haven’t.”
“You’d like it,” she said.
“Well, as I said, married.”
Annie shrugged. “It wouldn’t have to be with me. The scars, the fingers, the teeth… I know I’m repulsive.”
“I believe, when it comes to attraction, it’s what’s inside that counts.”
“Sure.” She unclipped some sunglasses from the sun visor and put them on. “If you lay Wyatt, make him wear a rubber. He’s been with everyone.”
Annie winked, then sped off.
The men were already in the hot tub. Wyatt had a metal martini shaker, and was pouring a round of something into plastic cups. I set my pillowcase on one of the molded chairs, and descended the stairs into the pool.
Wow. It felt amazing.
I waded in perfectly clear and warm chest-deep water over to the group, and Wyatt held out a cup.
“I’m good,” I said, not taking the drink. “Headache.”
“Try it. It’s called a Hot Blooded.”
“I have this rule about not accepting a beverage that I didn’t see poured.”
Wyatt’s eyes crinkled. “Did something happen to you once? Drugged? Raped?”
“This hot tub is incredible,” I said, ignoring the creepy question. “Is it saline?”
“Yeah.” Wyatt downed the drink he’d offered me, then went to the side of the pool and pulled himself out of the water. Then he made a show of opening up the martini shaker and adding ingredients he had lined up, poolside. A Hot Blooded was made with Jack Daniels, blood orange juice, agave nectar, and a jalapeno pepper, snapped in half. He poured two and brought one over to me.
I took it, smiling like I enjoyed having pushy alpha males make up my mind for me, and had a sip.
It was actually really good. Maybe a bit too much heat, but when I made one for Phin I’d limit the pepper.
Phin.
What the hell am I going to do about that situation?
“Ready for the bubbles?” Wyatt asked.
I didn’t know what he meant, so I didn’t answer. Turns out, Wyatt wasn’t waiting for an answer, because he was already pressing a button next to the drain basket.
The calm, warm waters immediately began to churn. A massage jet hit me at exactly the right spot between my shoulders, and I leaned against it, letting out a sigh.
McGlade, who’d been discussing edits with the twins, bounced over to me, raising up his cup. “Hey! It’s my Rainmakers shirt! Looks good on you.”
“Thanks.”
“If it fades, you bought it.”
Wyatt was mixing himself another drink, his hand getting heavier.
“So,” McGlade said, leaning in closer and speaking under the sound of the tub jets. “I heard a convo between the Steinhoffer siblings. Laugh like I just said something funny.”
“I don’t find you particularly funny.”
“Do it for Wyatt so he doesn’t get suspicious.”
“If I laughed at one of your lame jokes, that would make him suspicious.”
“Whatever. Guess what they said?”
I waited.
“They said they’d love to take turns with you.”
“And that made you suspicious?”
“They were talking about doing something to you, Jack. And I can guess what it is.”
“Sex?”
“What? No. Torture. Killing you. Wait, why did you say sex?”
“They’ve both been hitting on me.”
“Seriously?”
I sipped my drink and nodded.
McGlade’s plum face scrunched up in thought. “Hmm. That might make sense. I had some alone time with Annie, and she didn’t seem interested in me in the slightest. So being a lesbian fits.”
“She’s not into you, so she must be queer?”
He made a no duh face.
I glanced at Wyatt. He grinned and winked.
I glanced at the twins. They were giggling amongst themselves.
There was enough toxic masculinity in that hot tub to cause a skin rash.
Wyatt began to wade over with the martini shaker, and McGlade said, “I’m going to go check on Waddlebutt. I don’t give unsolicited advice—”
“You’re constantly giving unsolicited advice.”
“—but I’d caution against having revenge-sex with Wyatt to get back at Phin. He’s a player. Trust me, takes one to know one.”
“I know. And I don’t need to be one to know that.”
“Just be careful. But if things do get serious, try to get a naked pic of him. That guy is built.”
McGlade tried to pull himself out of the water like Wyatt had done, couldn’t get his fat ass up on the pool ledge, and waded over to the stairs. He said something to Heckle and Jeckle, and they nodded.
When Harry got out of the water, the level dropped three inches.
“Another Hot Blooded?” Wyatt asked me, standing too close.
“Still haven’t finished this one.”
He topped me off anyway.
I smiled pretty. “Where would I be without a big, strong man showing me what I want?”
If Wyatt caught the sarcasm, he didn’t show it.
The guy was ridiculously cute. And built. But what I’d said to Annie was true. Personalities, not looks, was what did it for me. Unlike Wyatt, Phin treated me like an equal and a friend. He didn’t pour me drinks. He asked first.
God, I missed him.
And I should have let him come along.
It took Wyatt’s Neanderthal act to make me realize that I’d been treating Phin the same way. Like the alpha who knew better. Forcing him to do what I wanted.
“Thank you,” I told Wyatt.
“For what?”
“For helping me realize that I married the right guy.”
I pulled up out of the pool, took a towel off a hook, wrapped it around my body, and then grabbed my pillowcase and headed for the women’s washroom.
The interior looked like it belonged in a health club, complete with subway tile, benches, and lockers. The shower looked big and inviting, and my skin was tingling from the salt water, but I wasn’t sure I wanted to get naked in that house.
I gave it a quick inspection, looking for peepholes. None that I could see, and goosebumps were forming because I was getting really cold, and the showerhead was massive, about eight times the size of my rain shower at home.
I decided to risk it, putting the pillowcase with the gun and my clothes on the floor next to the shower, setting my wet shirt and underwear next to the case, then turning on the spout.
Wow.
It was like being under a waterfall.
I had no idea how we could fit one of these into our bedroom at home, but we needed to get one. As amazing as the hot tub was, this shower was even better. There was a fresh bottle of shampoo on a wire shelf, and I lathered up and fantasized about being rich.
I’d just finished rinsing off when the lights went out.
In the pitch blackness, I immediately dropped to all four and crawled over to the shower curtain, reaching underneath for the pillowcase and the Taurus.
The pillowcase was gone.
HERB
They were brought back to the farm car and locked inside with a pile of blankets and two paper plates stacked with pancakes.
They were microwave pancakes, some still frozen in the center, and absolutely drenched with artificial blueberry syrup.
It was the greatest thing Herb had ever put in his mouth.
“Quick thinking,” he told Tequila, who had cocooned himself in blankets. “That worked out pretty good.”
“When in doubt, tell the truth.”
Herb paused in mid-chew. “Wait… the truth?”
Tequila nodded.
Herb tried to wrap his head around it. “You didn’t actually have sex with that psychopath. Did you?”
“I did.”
“No.”
“Yeah.”
“No.”
“Yeah.”
“How could you?”
Tequila shrugged. “The Cowboy pulled down my pants, and I put my—”
“I know how it works,” Herb interrupted, not wanting to hear the details. “I want to know how you could do that with someone who shot off half your ear.”
“You would have done the same thing.”
“I can tell you, absolutely, I would have not.”
Tequila ate another pancake. “What if it was a choice? Get tortured, or get laid?”
“Was it a choice?”
Tequila shrugged. “Not really. But we’re still alive.”
“What’s your endgame? The Cowboy falls in love with you, lets us go, and you move in with her and have a couple of kids?”
“Of course not. She’s a psychopath.”
“That’s what I’m saying,” Herb says. “Why would you sleep with a psychopath? She is, quite seriously, the absolute worst woman I’ve ever met in my life. And I’m a cop. I’ve met some people.”
“She reminds me of someone,” Tequila said. “A woman I knew in Italy.”
Herb shoveled another pancake in. He knew the food was too rich, that’d he’d probably be sick, but he couldn’t stop himself.
“You got any sort of plan?” Herb asked. “Yuri is going to talk to the Cowboy and find out she didn’t give you the wire snips.”
“That’s what I’m hoping. Maybe they’ll save me the trouble and kill each other.”
“And if they don’t?”
Tequila stretched, shaking off the blankets.
“I’m warm, I’m rested, and I’m full, for the first time in months,” he said. “Next person who opens that door, I’m breaking their fucking neck.”
JACK
During my fifty years of life I’d been in danger, serious danger, too many times to count.
But this was the first time things had gone to shit while I was naked.
I considered my options.
Yell?
For who?
McGlade wasn’t past playing a practical joke, but he knew not to mess with a person’s firearm. Besides, I’d watched him leave.
That left Wyatt, and Heckle and Jeckle.
I could imagine Wyatt attempting to get into the shower with me, but flicking lights off and stealing clothing didn’t seem his style.
Could it have been the twins?
If so, calling for Wyatt’s help would probably get him to come running.
Come running to me while I was naked.
Besides, if he was in the pool, he would have seen the twins go into the ladies room.
Unless he was too buzzed to notice.
I couldn’t hear anything with the shower still on, so I felt around for the handle and turned off the water. After a few seconds of dripping, the bathroom was quiet.
“I’m not scared,” I said, loudly and firmly. “But I am getting pissed. Turn on the lights and leave my clothes on the floor.”
No one answered.
I spent a millisecond blaming myself for getting into the situation, remembered that those kinds of thoughts were why we taught our daughters to carry pepper spray rather than teach our sons not to assault women, and chose to act rather than react.
I came out of the shower, fast and low, arms spread to tackle anyone standing close. After not running into anyone, I stopped, held my breath, and listened.
I didn’t hear anything. And the bathroom felt empty.
Working by memory, careful of my wet feet on a tile floor, I made my way to the door and fumbled around for the light switch.
I flipped it on and spun—
—finding myself alone.
The pillowcase was missing. So were my wet clothes, and the towel I’d brought in.
