The Game Changer

by Scott Hildreth

  Every muscle in my body relaxed, tensed and then relaxed again.

  A shock ran through me from my pussy to my nipples and then back.

  And I felt him release himself deep inside me in three massive bursts.

  “Holy shit,” he said. “We need to do this more often.”

  “Agreed.” I breathed. “Much more often.”

  Chapter Thirty-One

  Michael

  While Terra showered, my OCD behaviors kicked in, and I began tidying up the paperwork that was spread out across the living room floor.

  After satisfying myself that it was as good as I could make it, I started on the couch.

  Our sexual romp had the couch sitting askew. I moved it back to its original position, and then pulled out each individual cushion and fluffed it. Upon removing the last cushion, an envelope that had been wedged between the fabric and the arm of the couch fell to the floor.

  I picked it up and studied it.

  In the upper right-hand corner, the words Real-Time GPS were printed.

  I tore the envelope open and rifled through the contents. After finding a card with all the pertinent information written on it, I walked to the kitchen and opened Terra’s laptop.

  I logged onto the website, typed in the username and password, and waited. In a matter of seconds, an orange beacon blinked over an address that was not more than fifteen minutes away from where we lived.

  I gathered up the paperwork, stuffed it into the envelope and shoved it into my back pocket.

  Relieved, nervous and a little anxious, I walked outside and called Sal.

  “Want to buy me breakfast?” he asked as he answered the phone.

  “Found the dog.”

  “Where?”

  “Terra remembered it had a GPS on the collar. Long story. Just logged onto the website, and found the address of where he is. Maybe fifteen minutes away. In Overland Park.”

  “Want some help?”

  “Well, it could be nothing. Or it could be who fucking knows what. Guess it depends if someone just took the dog or was after something else.”

  “Pick me up.”

  “Alright. For now, I’m not telling Terra. Just in case.” I considered the worst possible outcome. “You know.”

  “See ya in ten.”

  The phone went dead.

  I walked to the bathroom and cracked the door open. “I’ve got to run for a bit. Maybe an hour or so.”

  “Okay,” she said. “Love you.”

  “Love you, too.”

  * * *

  Sal opened the door and looked inside the car. “I’ll drive. Park this piece of shit.”

  “I’m already in here, and it’s running. Get in.”

  “It ain’t a fuckin’ Cadillac.”

  “Fuck you.” I chuckled. “It’s better. Get in.”

  “Piece of German shit.” He pulled the door open wide and fell into the seat. “Roomy fucker, ain’t it?”

  “Pretty spacious, yeah,” I said. “You ready?”

  “I’m fuckin’ in here, what the fuck do you think?”

  I’d learned from the time we’d spent together that although he was constantly cussing and complaining, he meant nothing by it.

  “Buckle your seat belt,” I said. “I’m not going to listen to that thing buzz all the way there.”

  “You know you can unplug that fucker in a Cadillac,” he said.

  “Good to know.”

  “So, where is this place?”

  “I don’t know,” I said. “I programmed it into the navigation. Overland Park, somewhere.”

  He fucked with the controls on the seat until he was comfortable, and then looked in the backseat. “How big’s the trunk?”

  “Huge.”

  “How big’s huge?”

  “Three suitcases, four sets of golf clubs and a couple pizzas.”

  “You a golfer?”

  “Nope.”

  “They’re pies.”

  “What?”

  “Pies. Not fuckin’ pizzas,” he said. “Pies.”

  “Duly noted.”

  “You’re a funny fucker, you know that?”

  “I was just getting ready to tell you the same thing,” I said.

  “My wife tells me I’m a pain in the ass.” He laughed. “She doesn’t see the fuckin’ humor.”

  “I can only imagine.”

  I exited the highway, and followed the instructions as they came over the navigation system’s speaker. After turning into a residential area, Sal looked out the window.

  “Nice neighborhood,” he said. “Some of the family lives around here.”

  I gazed out the window. “It’s pretty nice, that’s for sure.”

  “In five hundred feet, your destination is on the left.”

  “Coming right up,” I said.

  He gazed out the window to the left.

  “In three hundred feet, your destination is on the left.”

  “How we gonna handle this?” I asked.

  “Pull in front of the fuckin’ house,” he said. “Then I’ll tell ya.”

  “In one hundred feet, your destination is on the left.”

  “Your destination is on the left.”

  I pulled to the curb and rolled to a stop.

  “You have arrived at your destination.”

  I glanced to the left. The home was a nice two-story house with two plastic trash Dumpsters at the curb and a Cadillac SUV in the drive. It looked like a family man’s house, not a dog thief or a thug.

  “There it is,” I said. “10783.”

  “You sure that’s it?”

  I nodded. “10783. That’s it.”

  He rubbed his jaw between his thumb and forefinger. “You fuckin’ sure you got the right address?”

  “Yeah, why?”

  “You need to be fuckin’ sure.”

  I reached into my back pocket and pulled out the paperwork. “Why? What the fuck are we going to do?”

  I flipped through the papers, found the card and held it at arm’s length. “There, 10783 Breckenridge.”

  He slumped down in the seat. “Let’s go see the boss.”

  “This prick’s got my dog.” I switched off the ignition. “I’m going to see what the fuck’s going on.”

  He pressed the start button. “I said we’re going to see the boss,” he said. “Drive the fuck away, and make it slow.”

  I inhaled a deep breath, then shifted the car into gear. “Tell me what the fuck’s going on.”

  “Just drive,” he said. “We’ll discuss it later.”

  * * *

  Agrioli slid his keyboard to the side. “Punch it in.”

  I still had no idea what was going on for sure, but simple deductive reasoning told me my dog was somewhere that Sal didn’t suspect it to be.

  I typed the username and password into the log-in screen.

  The map loaded, and the beacon blinked at the address of the house where we had been earlier.

  Agrioli looked at Sal. “What the fuck?”

  Sal shrugged. “What the fuck is right, boss.”

  Agrioli looked at me and then at Sal. “I can’t think of one good fuckin’ reason for him to have that dog. Something smells.”

  “Smells like a rat, boss.”

  Agrioli clenched his fists. “If that motherfucker...”

  “What do you want to do?”

  “See if he’ll talk.”

  “If he won’t?”

  “Persuade him,” Agrioli said. “And if he’s a rat...”

  “Hard to believe, boss.”

  “You’re fuckin’ telling me?” He shook his head li
ghtly, and his eyes lost their focus.

  “Boss?”

  “If he’s a rat...” Agrioli said through his teeth. “Whack him.”

  “You got it, boss.”

  I glanced at Agrioli and then at Sal. “One of you going to tell me what the fuck’s going on?”

  Sal nodded.

  “The rat,” Agrioli seethed, “is Gino.”

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  Terra

  “Well, what do you think?”

  She picked up the invitation, studied it for a moment and then nodded.

  Her lack of excitement left me wondering. “What?” I asked. “You don’t like it?”

  Still clutching the paper in her hand, she looked at me and shook her head. “It’s just...”

  Her eyes had become red and swollen.

  “Michelle,” I said. “What’s wrong?”

  “It’s beautiful.” She bit into her quivering lip. “It’s perfect.”

  “What’s wrong?”

  “I want it, too.”

  I slid off the edge of the bar stool and wrapped my arms around her. “What?”

  “This.” She lifted the invitation. “To get married.”

  “I’m sorry.” I held her for a moment and then sat down. “You will.”

  “Last night he said he loved me.”

  “Cap?”

  She wiped her eyes. “Yeah.”

  “Oh my God. Was that the first time?”

  “Yeah.”

  “What did you say?”

  “I told him I loved him.”

  “That’s awesome.”

  “Yeah, until my dad finds out.”

  “It might go better than you think.”

  “And it might not,” she said. “I hate thinking about losing him.”

  “Don’t say that.” I reached for her hand. “Everything’s going to be fine.”

  “I wish I could tell him everything. How Cap makes me feel. How he’s funny and goofy, and that we lay on the couch and watch TV until we fall asleep. And how he gets up and cooks me breakfast in his underwear.”

  “He cooks you breakfast?”

  “All the time,” she said. “And it’s good.”

  “In his underwear?”

  She laughed. “He wears boxer-briefs. Black ones.”

  “I thought my father was going to kill me. You did, too. Remember? You told me that.”

  “I thought he would,” she said.

  “So did I. But he didn’t. And now he loves Michael.”

  “He’s going to hate Cap. All I hear is how I need to find someone that’s not shady. Someone with a real job and an education. He goes on and on. Like, every time he sees me.”

  “If you look for those things first, who knows what you’ll find.”

  “I’m not looking for anything. I don’t care what happens. I love Cap.”

  “So you’re going to tell him?”

  She sighed. “Yeah.”

  “When?”

  “Soon. Cap’s asked. I’ve made up excuses. I mean, I haven’t done what you did, but I just keep putting it off. Luckily, at your party, he was inside all night. I didn’t even tell Cap he was there. I was thinking if he came outside I’d just act surprised and deal with it. And then, you know, after the cops came, everything just kind of ended.”

  “But you are going to tell him, right?”

  “My dad?”

  “Yeah.”

  “I have to. It’s making me sick.”

  “It made me sick, too.” I hated the thought of Michelle going through the mental torture I had gone though. “What if I tell my dad?”

  She scrunched her nose and stared back at me. “Huh?”

  “What if I tell my dad about you and Cap? Maybe kind of hint around that you’re seeing him, and ask what he thinks?”

  She shook her head. “I just need to tell him.”

  “You sure?”

  “Then your dad tells him, and he gets all mad, and by the time he gets to me, he’s already decided. Then, he won’t listen to anything. I just need to tell him.”

  “What are you going to do if he tells you to stop seeing him?”

  “That’s the thing that’s stopped me from telling him more than anything. If he tells me to stop seeing him. Like, if he demands it?” She shook her head. “He’ll be dead to me.”

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  Michael

  Gino walked into the restaurant with the same smug look on his face that he always had. Knowing his fate was being sealed by what responses he offered left me feeling nervous, but I wanted answers nonetheless.

  Answers only he could provide.

  Regardless of what we learned in our sit-down with him, I had already decided I didn’t trust him.

  Sal glared at him as he approached our table.

  The restaurant, as always, was empty. Sal sat to my left, and there was a glass of wine to my right.

  Gino motioned toward the glass. “Is this me?”

  “Sit down.” Sal said in a snide tone.

  “What’s with you?” Gino pulled out the chair and sat down. “Always with the stick in your ass.”

  “We’ve got questions, Gino.” Sal leaned forward. “And we want fuckin’ answers.”

  Gino looked at me, and then at Sal. “What? You and the kid?” He coughed out a laugh. “Questions for me? What? The kid want to know how to make a fuckin’ meatball?”

  Sal’s eyes went thin. “Enough with the mouth, Gino.”

  Gino glared at me for a split second, and then shifted his eyes to Sal. “Watch your tone, Sal. If you think—”

  “Shut the fuck up, Gino,” Sal snarled. “Shut up and fuckin’ listen.”

  Gino’s eyes went wide. Before he had a chance to speak, Sal leaned against the edge of the table and locked eyes with him. “You a fuckin’ rat, Gino?”

  Gino blinked a few times and then looked at me. “Go wait outside.”

  “He ain’t going anywhere,” Sal said. “Answer the question.”

  “You askin’ me if I’m a rat?” Gino snarled. “I’m the fuckin’ underboss. I’ve been with the family for—”

  “Answer the fuckin’ question.”

  “Are you a rat?” Gino asked. “What about this fuckin’ kid? Probably a fuckin’ Mick, if you ask me. And you wanna—”

  “We know about the dog, Gino.” Sal tilted his head in my direction. “What the fuck were you doing at his house?”

  Gino pushed himself away from the table. His eyes darted back and forth between us. “What fuckin’ dog?”

  “Frank!” Sal shouted over his shoulder. “Get the door.”

  Frank emerged from the back of the restaurant, walked to the front door and locked it.

  “You tell me the truth,” Sal said. “And we can fix this. You lie to me? I’ll whack you right fuckin’ here. Get to talking.”

  Gino buried his face in his hands. “This ain’t easy, Sal.”

  “It ain’t gonna get any easier. Start fuckin’ talking.”

  After a tense moment, Gino looked up. “This kid. He tells me he’ll give me twenty large if I tell him about the operation. The family. All I’ve got to do is tell him about it, that’s it. Fuck, Sal. I got that place down in Florida, and the fuckin’ termites took out the whole fuckin’ second floor. Fuckin’ Mexicans want two hundred and fifty thousand dollars to fix it. Took out the second mortgage on my house, and money got tight. They’re talking about taking my house, so I need that twenty large just so they don’t foreclose.”

  “You piece of fuckin’ shit,” Sal growled. “You fuckin’ ratted out the family?”

  “Hold on, Sal. We can fix this. This kid. He’s th
e informant. Kid got pinched on a cocaine deal, and he’s snitching to the feds for a reduced sentence. The feds don’t even know who I am. Never talked to ’em once, I swear.”

  “You rat to the kid, and he rats to the feds. A rat’s a fuckin’ rat.”

  “I can make something up, Sal. I can tell him whatever the boss wants. We can fix this.”

  “You tell the kid about Jackie Four Eyes?”

  “Sal—”

  “You tell the kid about Jackie Four Eyes?”

  “Sal, I—”

  “The truth, Gino. I’ll whack you right fuckin’ here.”

  Gino nodded. “I had to give ’em something—”

  “You motherfucker.” Sal stood and began pacing the floor beside the table. “You ratted out the boss to fix your termite-infested house on the fuckin’ beach?”

  “Sal, I swear—”

  Sal stopped and shot Gino a glare. “What about the dog?”

  Gino looked at me. Half in shock about everything that was happening, and not certain of how it was going to end, I cleared my throat and glared back at him.

  “It was the kid’s idea,” he said. “I was showing him where you lived, and the door was just fuckin’ open. He was gonna hit your house when everyone was gone. You know, to get the teeth. They said if I got the teeth it’d all be over. So we drove by, and the fuckin’ door was wide open.”

  “So, you came into my house and took my fucking dog?”

  He shifted his eyes toward Sal, who was now standing by the window talking on his phone. He paused for a moment, looked at me and lowered his head.

  “It was the kid’s idea.”

  Sal stepped to the table. “Who’s the kid? The informant?”

  “I swear, Sal. I don’t know. Some drug dealer from Wyandotte County. He just came to me out of the blue and offered me the money.”

  “You got no fuckin’ idea of who this kid is?”

  “Some kid with JC tattooed on his neck. That’s all I got.” Gino shook his head. “I swear.”

  Sal looked at me. “Go to the bathroom, Michael.”

  “Excuse me?”

  “Go to the fuckin’ bathroom.”

  I clenched the edge of the table in my hands and waited until Gino looked at me. As his eyes met mine, I stood from my seat and glared back at him. “Whatever the boss decides, I’ll stand behind,” I said. “But no matter what he says, I’m going to beat the living shit out of you before this day’s over.”