by Greg Barth
“So let me get this straight. My boys didn’t tell you I was involved in this—what are they calling it these days—corporate takeover?”
“Well...they...they did. Yes. But I was just trying to, you know, find the right...buh bargaining position.”
“Ah, I see. You didn’t have enough packed up in your golden parachute, did you? Well shit, Teddy, you’ve got to take better care of yourself. I mean, the head of the company ain’t secure, how can the little man stay confident?”
“I just want to keep earning. That’s all. You know how it is, right?”
Mozingo nodded. “You like being in the whore business. It’s satisfying to you, Teddy. That what you’re saying?”
“Yes. That’s all it is.”
“I’m partial to whores myself. Whores are good. Whores provide a necessary service. I mean, they know what to do to a man, don’t they, Teddy? Some girl that ain’t a whore, it’s rough to train them, break them in. They feel all emancipated and shit. Hell, everybody likes whores. It’s a damn fine business, you ask me.”
“Well...yes...I mean, there’s that...and there’s also the income—”
“And now you want to renegotiate.”
The fat man’s cheeks bounced as he nodded.
“You know how I deal with folks, don’t you Teddy?” Mozingo said. “Pound of flesh if you cross me. All that? I mean, it’s fucking Shakespearean.” He put his hand on the knife handle at his waist.
Tears rolled down Teddy’s face. “I’m so very sorry.”
“I am too, Teddy.”
“I’ll leave. I’ll leave. Just please...please...”
“Now, Teddy. Don’t get worked up again. How’s this for a renegotiation? You can stay.”
A glimmer of hope spread across the fat man’s face.
“That’s right,” Mozingo said. “You can stay right here and continue to run things. The whore business. That’s what I’m talking about. In fact, I insist on it. Your kick up to me will be, say, fifty percent of net. How’s that strike you?”
“Fi...fifty percent? I...I...can’t live on that. I barely make it on a hundred percent. I...I mean...respectfully, Mister Mozingo. Sir.”
“Fifty percent, and you can still have all the pussy you want. I mean, you like whores, right Teddy? A man like you, you’re gonna get all the sugar you can.”
“Well...I guess...I can figure something out. Somehow...”
“I thought you’d be happy with that, Teddy.”
“So, we’re good?”
“We’re good.”
“Thank you. Thank you, Mister Mozingo.”
“Except for one thing. Your resistance cost me a little. Not to mention, you know I don’t like this whole face to face thing. I tend to be introverted, social anxiety disorder they call it, and it takes a lot out of me to make these social calls.”
“What can I do?” Teddy said. “I didn’t want you to have to come out in public like this. I didn’t mean for it to go this way.”
“I have to send a message. I can’t live like this. Dealing with germy human animals. I can’t do business this way. Do you know how much bacteria you’re exhaling into the air right now? Fucking trillions of contaminants. How are you not conscious of that? You’re aware that the entire human race could just drop dead any second, right? Some germ evolves just a little, and it’s all over, brother.”
“No, no, no. Mister Mozingo, please. I won’t bother you ever again. I swear. You don’t have to be here. Really.”
“I have to, Teddy. Otherwise, people will be revolting all over the place. And them breathing their bacteria into my air by the trillions. I’ll make sure it’s not as severe as we’ve done in the past.” Mozingo drew his knife. A fixed-blade Bowie, seventeen inches in length. The thick, heavy blade was a tarnished dark gray. It extended from the hardwood handle and brass crossguard, a vicious, razor-sharp edge that swept long and curved up to a sharp point at the tip.
Teddy hyperventilated again.
“I’m going to make you a good offer here, Teddy. I’m only going to take one finger. You can pick which one. I’ll leave you all the rest.”
“Please,” Teddy whimpered.
“Or I could take the whole hand.”
Teddy withdrew his trembling left had from under the table. “This one,” he said, holding up his little finger.
“If I was a betting man, that’s the one I would have put my money on. Not much a man can do with his little finger is there?”
Teddy placed his hand palm down on the table. He spread his fingers as far apart as he could. He closed his eyes and turned his face away.
“Here’s how this works,” Mozingo said. “I’m going to make a quick, clean cut. It’ll hurt like hell, and there’ll be some bleeding. There’s no getting around that. But I do not want you to flinch. You understand? Your natural instinct will be to draw your hand back. It’s like a reflex. I could nail your hand to the table, and that would hold it in place while I make the cut. But that would just make it all the more unpleasant for you. So I have another way of motivating you to stay still. What I propose is this. You hold your hand there steady by sheer will power alone. If you draw it back before I can make the cut, then I’m going to do something else to you. It’s very unpleasant. You want to know what it is?”
“I won’t move. I swear,” Teddy said.
Mozingo put an elbow on the table and leaned in close. “What I’ll do is, I’ll cut your dick off. I’ll cut your dick off and make you eat it. That’s right. If you have a tiny little pecker, you’re lucky. You could probably swallow it whole. You get to the hospital quick enough, and people there know what the hell they’re doing; they might could go down the throat, fish it out, and reattach it. But I doubt you want to take that risk. Now, let’s say you’re a well-endowed man, then...well, you know...there’ll be some chewing involved. And, Teddy, we don’t want to think of that now, do we? I doubt they got any doctors here that can deal with that. Teeth just fuck dicks up; am I right? A surgeon has his skills, but they’ll only get you so far.”
Teddy vomited onto the table. He coughed and retched until his stomach was empty. He wiped his chin with his shaking right hand.
Mozingo pulled back from the table. “Alright. It looks like you’re ready to get it over with.” He raised the knife high.
Teddy closed his eyes again. He pressed his hand hard against the table. He concentrated on not moving. He held his breath. A whoosh of movement, and there was a hard blow to his hand. A loud thunk. The table shook.
Teddy opened his eyes.
The four fingers on his left hand were completely severed. The tip of his thumb had also been cut away. They lay in a pool of blood and vomit.
Teddy screamed.
Mozingo pulled the knife blade free from the table. He leaned in close and wiped the blade clean on Teddy’s windbreaker.
Mozingo sheathed the knife. He reached forward and picked up the small finger. “Like I said, Teddy. I’m just taking the one. You get to keep the rest.”
Teddy howled in response. He cradled his trembling, bleeding hand.
“You took it just like a man, Teddy. Real tough. Even better, you get to keep your dick.”
“Hold up boss,” a man said from the shadows of the room. He stepped forward. It was Deke, Mozingo’s former cellmate and right hand man.
“Yeah, D?”
“Dude flinched.”
“No fucking way.”
Teddy made a high-pitched, mewling sound.
“He did, man. I saw it.”
“I was fucking looking, D. I mean, I watched the blade there for a second or two to make sure it was lined up, but when I looked back, I didn’t see any movement. Fucker was like a statue.”
“Swear to god, boss. His palm was clammy. I think it slipped just a micro-millimeter or something right there at the last.”
“Yeah, I get it. Fucking eagle eye you are, Deke. Well, shit. I’m sorry, Teddy. Gotta take the dick after all. Hope you’re hung
ry, Bubba.”
Teddy squealed in anguish.
Deke raised a hand. “I got this, boss.”
Mozingo raised an eyebrow. “You?”
“Serious. Get out of the bacterial air, man.”
“I like the way you’ve been stepping up, Deke.”
Mozingo turned and walked out of the room. He closed the door behind him, muffling the sound of Teddy’s screams from the other side.
FIVE
Selena
I SAT ON the bench outside the entrance and smoked while I waited on Enola and Jackie to pick me up. It was a hot afternoon. The sky was blue, the sun was bright, birds singing. It felt good to be out of the hospital.
When Enola pulled up in her Explorer, I stood and waved. She came around the loop and stopped near me.
“Hey there, stranger,” Jackie said through the open window on the passenger side. Jackie was a tiny little thing. She had chin-length blonde hair and bright blue eyes. She had just turned twenty-four. Some of the guys in the outfit referred to Jackie as Malucci’s piece on the side.
I flipped my cigarette to the grass and opened the rear door. When I slid in the backseat, I caught the sultry scent of Enola’s perfume—sweet with a hint of powder. Not overbearing but definitely something for evening wear. It was warm and intoxicating.
“Oh my god. I’ve missed that perfume. What is it?”
“I’ll give you a splash when we get home,” Enola said.
She turned around and smiled at me. She reached back and squeezed my hand. “Good to see you.” Enola wore her brown hair pulled back in a ponytail. She was six foot, easy. Where Jackie was petite, Enola was curvaceous. She was one of the most beautiful women I had ever met.
“Good to be seen,” I said.
She pulled away from the curb. “Look, Amanda. Jackie and I have discussed this. We want you to come stay with us. We have plenty of room, and we aren’t taking no for an answer. You need anything on the way?”
“They gave me a prescription for Narcan,” I said, and shook my head with embarrassment. “I don’t need it now.”
“We’ll get it,” Enola said.
“It’s okay. Really.”
“You’re off the needle, right?” Jackie said.
“Totally,” I said.
“See? She’s off the needle,” Jackie said.
“You’re never off the needle, honey,” Enola said.
“In all honesty, I was never on the needle,” I said.
“Give me the prescription,” Enola said. She kept her hand out until I got it out of my pocket and handed it up to her. “I see you take one step toward Crowbar again, I’m going to have this handy.”
“Don’t worry.”
“We can go by the motel and pick up your things later. For now, we want to get you home and settled in,” Enola said.
“I think we’re the same size,” Jackie said. “You can wear anything of mine you want until we get you moved in.”
I didn’t have much to move. “Thanks. That’s very nice. I hate to impose.”
“Honey, we have lots of room. We wouldn’t have it any other way. It’ll be fun,” Enola said.
“Like a sleepover,” Jackie said. “Every night.”
“Then I guess it’s settled,” I said.
Enola owned the Red Light Lounge, a strip club outside of town. It sat alone at the end of a private road, so it was free from harassment by those who petitioned against such establishments.
Enola and Jackie lived together in a large apartment on the second floor above the club. Enola had taken Jackie in after Pete Malucci’s arrest.
Enola parked behind the building. A door on the back opened to a staircase that wound upward to the second floor.
The apartment was massive. It took up the entire level and covered the same floor space as the club below. Enola and Jackie gave me the complete tour. The living room had hardwood flooring and was furnished with a sectional leather sofa and two armchairs. There was a large TV mounted to the wall. A fully stocked bar sat by the dining room. A nice selection of wine in a rack next to the kitchen. Enola’s walls were adorned with Post-Impressionist paintings. Two bedrooms and three bathrooms.
“We have a couple of options for sleeping arrangements,” Enola said as we entered one of the bedrooms. “You can sleep in here if you want.” There was a single bed inside the room.
“Whose bedroom is this?” I said.
“It’s mine,” Jackie said. “You’re welcome to it.”
“Oh no, I couldn’t. I can sleep on the couch.”
“No, really. It’s fine,” Jackie said.
“It’s a small bed. Are you sure?”
“Oh, I don’t sleep in here.”
“No?”
“And that’s the other option,” Enola said. “Come this way, and we’ll show you.”
We walked down to the second, larger bedroom. A king-size bed sat against the far wall. There was a TV, stereo, wet bar, and refrigerator. There was a tall wardrobe and a vanity as well. I spotted a bong on the vanity. I walked over to the table. A small, heart-shaped bottle sat next to the bong. I picked it up and read the gold lettering on the glass. Lolita Lempicka. I held it up to my nose. Enola’s signature scent—a clean, lavender, licorice smell. Not for the faint of heart. I placed the bottle back on the table.
Enola was a woman with taste.
I looked around the room in more detail. A small vibrator lay on top of an end table next to a couple of paperback books on one side of the bed. On the other side was another end table with a hardback novel, a couple of fashion magazines and an electronic tablet.
Doors opened off to a bathroom and walk-in closet. Between those two openings was a recess with a hot tub. A couple of candles on a table near the tub.
“Nice,” I said. “Very nice.”
“Thank you,” Enola said. “Option number two is this. You can sleep in that big bed. With the two of us.”
“You can sleep in the middle,” Jackie said.
My body practically tingled and ached to be touched. “I think I’m liking option two,” I said. “When’s bedtime?”
“The club’s closed on Sundays and Mondays, so we can turn in anytime,” Jackie said.
“Why don’t we get you in the hot tub, turn on some jazz, light a candle, and get a bottle of wine in you?” Enola said.
“You like Pinot Grigio? I like Pinot Grigio,” Jackie said.
“Sure,” I said. I wasn’t sure if I did or not, but I was willing to try something new.
And so they took me in and I became one of them. We moved my things from the motel. Jackie and I shared clothes. We worked five nights a week in the club downstairs. Enola took care of the business. Jackie and I pitched in where needed, waiting tables, tending bar, giving one-off lap dances as needed—neither of us entertained on stage or worked the room, but we knew our way around a lap.
We closed each night at 2 a.m., swept up, went upstairs, kept the party going until just before daylight. Enola had the windows to her bedroom covered with black shades and thick drapes to keep the sunlight out. We’d get in, undress, pile into the hot tub, get the tunes playing, the wine flowing, and inevitably end the night in a three-woman orgy.
My day job as an assistant drug lord was almost nonexistent. Malucci’s crew knew what was expected of them. He ran a tight ship. Ragus and I were on standby for escalated issues. So far there had been few. Ragus was out of town during my recovery, tending to a matter that required his special skills. He told me to lay low while he was away, make sure nobody found out who I was. I’m sure the hospital and the psych ward were not quite what he had in mind.
This continued for a few weeks before things changed.
SIX
Selena
JUST ABOUT THE time I was settled into the rhythms of living with the girls and working at the club, Jackie got a call from the prison. She was Pete’s primary point of contact, and they needed her to come on site to meet with them.
“You need a
ride, Jackie?” Enola said.
“No. It’s probably nothing. Even though the prosecutor hates him, Pete’s got some clout with the COs there. He probably just needs a conjugal. Either that or wants me to pick something up he can’t get from the commissary. I’ll take the Mustang.”
“Call if you need us,” Enola said.
“I’ll see you this afternoon. I’ll pick up some more of that wine we had Friday night on the way back.”
She got dressed and left. It was early for us, so Enola and I went back to sleep. As I dozed off, I heard the sound of Jackie’s Mustang as she drove away.
When I woke up next, I looked over at Enola. She was lying on her side, looking at me.
“Good morning,” she said.
“Morning.”
She leaned in a bit closer. Her perfume was intoxicating. “I’ve been dying for a chance to be alone with you,” she said.
“You’re kidding, right? What do you have in mind?”
“This,” she leaned in and kissed me softly on the lips. We’d done a lot of kissing, the three of us. But this kiss, with it being just Enola and me, was on a completely different level of intimacy.
She took my hand in hers, slid across the bed so she was even closer, and kissed me with more force.
She pulled back and looked into my eyes. “You’re very special to me, Amanda,” she said.
“Thank you. It’s nice being here,” I said. “It’s scary in a way.”
“How so?”
“Nothing good ever lasts. Not for me.”
“The bad things don’t last either.” She picked up a remote from the bedside table and tapped a button until the room filled with soft jazz music. She lay beside me and put her hands on me.
I closed my eyes and pushed my head back into the pillow.
With the music playing, we missed the sound of Jackie’s Mustang when she returned.
My eyes jerked open when I heard her at the door. Enola pulled her hands away from me.
I lay still as I listened to the sound of Jackie’s heels clicking on the hardwood floor. I heard her put her purse down on the dining table and lay her keys next to it. Then the clicking of heels again.
