Despite the gloves, hat, two sweaters, thermal underwear, heavy work overalls, two sweaters, and a down coat, Benny Bottles’ teeth chattered uncontrollably, as he laid a solid run for Rummy. “Count ‘em and weep.”
Louie Zip threw in his hand. "Damn, you ever lose?"
"Hey, lucky in cards, lucky in love." Benny gloated, comfortably warm under the electric blankets. "Now you're inta me for over five large."
"How about 'double or nothin’?" Louie examined the greasy glasses perched on Benny's zigzagged nose.
“You think these are X-ray specs?" Benny offered the glasses to Louie and held up the cards. “Or maybe this is a cooler?”
“No.” Louie had left Benny alone ten minutes, which was more than enough time for him to doctor the cards.
"What time you got?"
"Four." Another hour of losses seriously jeopardized his cut from this job.
"I'm gonna miss our time together." Benny squinted at the locked office door.
"Me too." Louie thumbed the cards for any nicks or cuts.
“You lose, cuz you suck at cards." Benny knocked the cards from Louie's hand.
The young man flinched, expecting a punch. None came and he glared at the older gangster, who pointed his finger at Louie. "That's trick-or-treat scary shit might work with your fagala friends, but not me. Now go check on our girlfriend."
Louie grumbled a series of swears on the way to the office and unlocked the door. The girl remained where he had left her, but she had been trying to free her hands and he knelt by her side, extracting an earplug. “Listen, your friends are comin’ in less than an hour. Keep quiet same as you been doin’ and you’ll come out of this without a scratch. You try anythin’ stupid and my crazy partner next door doesn’t care if he kills or rapes you. You got that?"
Tammi nodded and asked for the thousandth time, "Why anyone kidnap me? I'm just a runaway stripper.”
None of perverts from the Dollhouse were this desperate. Mike Vallee didn’t have the brains to find her and she doubted if her stepmother had even filled a missing person report. In Jacqueline Susann's ONCE IS ENOUGH, white slavers capture a model for an Arab oil sheik, only she was wrapped in a cheap electric blanket, instead of a Persian rug and electrical tape was hardly a silken cords. She replayed the show at CBGBs; the nervousness, the exhilaration, the ecstasy, and then Sean’s near-declaration of love in the alley, and then blackness. Someone had kidnapped her. Not for sex. Not for money.
“You be a good girl and everyone be happy in the end.” The man told her and she listened to his footsteps cross the floor. When the door shut, she realized she had realized she heard his accent before. Charles’ driver and she drew a straight line to Frankie’s tale of Charles Ames III’s infatuated attendance at the Dollhouse. She had rejected the millionaire’s love and he had abducted her. Just like that rich kid last summer. Drugged her. Thinking he could do anything he wanted and all because she didn’t want to be a fast girl anymore. She didn’t deserve this. Never had and she swore Charles wouldn’t derive any pleasure from her imprisonment and once again attempted to loosen her restraints.
Outside in the garage Louie walked to the dimly lit table. The cards were on the floor and the heavy-set gangster licked his lips with relish, "How is my girl?"
"Out cold."
"Time to have a little fun?"
"In two hours we'll be in the money and can buy a hundred sluts in Times Square."
“Why buy what you can get free?” The old legbreaker eased into a piggish smile.
"Nuttin’ more tasty than freebies and at my age they’re few and far between, unless you steal 'em."
"Bobby doesn’t want us to touch her."
"No one told me you wuz studyin' for the priesthood." He leaned back on the chair.
"Pick up the cards.”
“Me? I ain’t your slave.”
“No, but you’re low man here.”
“Fuck you, Benny.” There was no way Louie was leaving this room without killing Benny Bottles, but he opted to string Benny along for a little longer and bent over for the cards. It was the wrong move, because Benny slugged the young man with a thick-knuckled right and Louie collapsed to the floor, his eyes rolling into his skull.
“Damn, I must be gettin’ old.” Benny used to kill men with one punch to the temples and started for the office door, laughing at his fallen card partner. ”Do yerself a favor next time, punk, and trust no one."
One kick with his size 13 shoe knocked it off the hinges.
Louie Zip took a thirty-second knockdown count and slowly rose to his knees. The office door was on the floor. Benny was atop the struggling girl. Louie staggered to the door, his head swimming on his shoulders for shore.
"This is Big Daddy callin’ for fun." The old killer ripped apart the leather vest. Her wig partially slipped off her head. Several strands of red hair hung down her face and the squat mobster asked, "What’s with the red hair?"
"Perhaps she dyed it," Louie reached for the icepick at his side.
"This ain't the girl we wuz supposed to get."
"We're still getting paid."
Recalling Josie’s decapitated girls in the Hotel Lark, Tammi tried to free herself and was rewarded with a nasty slap. Rough hands mauled her breasts, until her attacker unexpectedly coughed explosively. "What the fuck you stick me for?”
“I told you ‘No’.”
“You motherfucker.”
Her attacker rolled off and Tammi pictured a younger man with a knife. He wasn’t a rapist. He would stop the other man, who snarled, "I'm gonna break your neck, bang this little bitch, till she bleeds, and I can’t say which I been lookin' forward to more, sciafoza."
Shoes scuffled on the dusty floor like on a radio drama. Bodies crashed into walls and heavy objects thudded into flesh. A sharp crack echoed in the room and the older man growled, "Funny, your arm goin’ that way.”
“I still got a shiv in my right.”
“So fuckin’ what? I'm gonna break your legs."
Feet rushed across the room and the older man yelped with pain. The younger man guffawed, "Bet an ice pick in the eye hurts worst than my arm, you fat piece of shit."
Glass crunched and the younger man said, "Opps, found your glasses."
"You’ll pay for my eye and your friend too. And the rest of your friggin’ family. They gonna die." A heavy object swished through the air to strike a body with a thud and the bigger man shouted in triumph. "That musta hurt."
The younger man seemed on the losing end and then a piercing shriek was followed by the sound of a watermelon repeatedly stuck by a knife. The big man gasped ever weaker,
"No, no….no……no."
A coarse wheeze and a body crashed against boxes. The room grew quiet and a warm wetness touched her shoulder. It was blood and Tammi wiggled from the cooling puddle. After a few minutes she succeeded in removing the tape on her mouth and eyes.
Two men were on the floor. Blood seeped from their bodies.
They had fought to the death.
Over her.
And they probably had friends.
Everyone did, but her and Tammi feared she might die before ever seeing her 17th birthday, Paris, the Redwoods north of San Francisco, or the Statue of Liberty. This was all a mistake and she fought to free herself, but the duct tape was too secure on her hands and feet. She was trapped. Same as she had been in Kittery, where she had been the one who saved herself. Now she had to depend on someone else and looked to the window. The light was fading from the cracks between the plastic. Night was falling and she prayed to a God who had never listened to any other of her other pleas before. Hopefully this time he wouldn’t be so deaf to a young girl in need.
No comments:
Post a Comment