by Kara Hart
“Bullshit,” she says. “You totally want to ride his face. Don't lie to me. This is the only reason I left my house today, to hear all the juicy shit you've been storing in that brain of yours.”
Our drinks are nearly finished and I'm feeling a little tipsy. “Okay, fine. I want to ride him until he cums,” I say. “Are you happy?”
“Only a little,” she laughs. “So, tell me. Who is our mystery man? We have to find him for you.”
“Teresa, don't you dare start with that,” I groan. “He's just some man. And I'm pretty sure he’s dangerous, so I'd rather not see him again.”
“You're no fun,” she says. “A little danger never hurt a girl. Take my last boyfriend, for instance. He just got out of prison when I met him and he was wild, girl. Ugh, God, we had the craziest sex.”
“It's not going to happen. First of all, I don't know who he is or where he's from, or what,” I say. “Second, I'm not about to try and fuck a made man. Who knows what kind of baggage the guy has buried deep inside.”
She waves her hand at me, flicking her wrist. “Pfft. Your loss.”
When I finish my drink, I start to regret even mentioning seeing the guy in front of her. She could go run her mouth to her family and then I'd have to deal with getting questioned for hours. As much as I love Teresa, she can be a little gossipy.
With her, it's always boys, boys, boys. But I was interested in other things, like my studies and my life back in the Bay Area. Besides, she doesn’t know that I just got my heart smashed by some idiot tech guy from the Mission District. I'm not about to unload that mess on her.
We spend the rest of the time reminiscing and bonding over old memories. Three drinks in and I'm practically falling over myself. When a few hours pass, she walks me out. “Are you going to be here for a while?” she asks me.
“Just for a couple of weeks,” I tell her. “I can't say I'm excited about it.”
She frowns. “Oh, come on. It's not that bad. I know you're a West Coast girl now and you're too good for us, but try and have some hometown pride!”
I give her a hug and a kiss on the cheek. “You're the only good thing in this city, Teresa. I've got all the pride in the world for our friendship.”
“Me and that guy, right?” She laughs.
“Oh, God. Why do I tell you anything?” We say our goodbyes and promise to call each other, although I know how that’ll turn out.
Instead of calling a cab home, I decide to walk the path. I’m drunk and feeling happy enough. The weather isn’t terrible, and the exercise could probably do me some good. Any time away from my crazy house sounds good to me.
The streets are different in Detroit now. I left home at the height of the madness in this city. My family actually profited off of the crisis through organized crime, but other families didn’t do so hot. I had friends who lost their homes. In what seemed like an instant, the whole government turned their backs on the people of Detroit, leaving them to scramble to pick up the pieces.
It wasn’t good when I left. If you wanted to, you could get away with murder. Plenty did. As for me, I’ve always wanted to be a lawyer. And since my family isn’t exactly picture-perfect, nor law abiding, they were all for it. “A lawyer for the family business?” Ricky would ask. “Sounds great. I’ll hire you in an instant.”
But I didn’t want to work for people like Ricky. Instead, I wanted to make a difference. An actual difference. Too many, for far too long, have been profiting off of the corrupt justice system of our country. I should know. It’s men exactly like my cousins and uncles who run for government positions so they can swindle and steal legally. It’s a smarter bet than being a low-level thug like Ricky, because even if you are the Don, you’re bound to leave the seat with a bullet in your head or a darkened jail cell. Needless to say, I’ve been studying hard.
Now, walking home on these streets, things are looking a little different. The potholes have been worked on, construction is up and running, and every so often I pass a group of nice cafés. It’s actually not too bad. I guess with the price of homes being so low out here, people are starting to flood into the city. I smile at the thought of this city becoming great once again. I just hope this time it’ll be without the corruption of big business and shady government action.
When I turn the corner, I hear a voice hiss at me. “Hey, miss. Spare a quarter?” I nearly jump, until I see it’s just a young man who has fallen on some hard times. I’m not one to give away heaps of money, but I’m also not about to let someone go away empty handed. I figure he probably needs it. Maybe he can grab a burger or something and feel good, at least for one night.
“Yeah, of course,” I smile, reaching into my purse. “Let me just find my wallet.”
“No worries,” he says, opening his hoodie up. “I’ll just take the whole thing, bitch.”
I freeze in shock and my blood runs ice cold. He’s got a loaded handgun pointed at me and the safety isn’t locked in place. “Now, bitch! Hurry the fuck up.”
I can’t move or breathe, and I feel myself start to grow faint. He rips the purse from my hands and before I can yell for help, I fall to the sidewalk.
Oh, what a beautiful day in Detroit.
167
Hunter
I can’t help myself. I know I’m a fucking creep. I don’t give a damn. Ain’t no one out there who’s man enough to criticize me about it.
She knows I’ve been watching her. It’s in the way she looked at me at the funeral. It’s that same look she gave me from the cab window. There is longing in her eyes. Maybe she doesn’t know it yet. But I can tell. She wants to be saved.
“…bitch!” I hear the words from a distance and I just know that someone is begging death to come take them away. If they didn’t want to get a bullet to the chest, they wouldn’t call that beauty a bitch. If he knew any better, he’d fall to his knees and kiss the ground she walks upon.
This thug doesn’t have any fucking clue what he’s gotten himself into. As soon as I see her faint, I run and catch her. The look in her eyes is total shock, but I make sure she’s set on the ground lightly. That’s when I turn to catch that asshole.
I don’t even run after the guy. I simply hold my gun out and scream at the top of my lungs, “I’d stop if I were you. You wouldn’t want a bullet in your head.” He slows down to a walk, turning his head at me, and weighs his options. “Then again, maybe you do. It’s your choice, compadre.”
He comes to a halt, breathing quick and irregular. I walk towards him with my revolver pointed directly at his back and I can tell he’s still weighing his options. “I wouldn’t try anything if I were you,” I say. “I know you think you can get out of this with a quick move or two, but I’ve been killing people for a living for over 15 years now. I do love a good chase.”
“Shit!” He whispers under his breath. “Man, I didn’t do shit to you. Why are you over here caring about some dumb cunt?”
I shake my gun at him, getting closer to his body. “Wrong choice of words, pal.” When I’m close enough to him, I knock the butt of the gun against his thick skull. He falls to the ground. “Now, let’s try this again, shall we?”
“Fuck,” he moans, spitting onto the pavement.
I pick him up by his collar and lift him back off the ground. “Drop the purse and give me all your money,” I tell him. “And don’t argue with me again or I’ll knife you in the gut. Got it?”
“I got it, man,” he says, clutching his head. “Jesus. You didn’t have to come at me like that.”
“I did,” I say angrily. “Otherwise, you could’ve shot me with that pistol of yours. By the way, it’s a nice piece. I’m grateful for you sharing it with me.”
“Shit. My dad’s gonna kill me,” he moans.
I reach into my pocket and grab a zip tie, fastening it tightly around his wrists. “You’re damn right he is,” I mutter. “Truth is, you’re better off getting lectured. A kid like you shouldn’t be out on these streets with a gun. I bet you
’ve never even fired the damn thing, have you?”
He squints hard and tries to save face. “Whatever,” he says. “I don’t need to prove nothing to you.”
I laugh. “Sure,” I say. “Fine. But you see that pretty girl over there?” He looks her way, ashamed he let himself get caught, and she dusts her dress off and rubs the side she fell on. “That pretty woman deserves some respect from you. Now, go apologize.”
Before he responds, the woman I’ve had my eyes on walks up and grabs her purse from me. She’s pissed, although I don’t have any idea why. “I’m fine,” she growls. “I can handle shit myself.”
“Hey, wait up a second,” I shout, as she walks away. Her backside looks fine as hell. I could sink into that like butter…
She stops and turns around at the corner. She takes a deep breath and says, “I’m grateful for your help. I really am. But it’s been a long weekend and I’d like to get home.”
I scratch my head. “Fine. I’m not stopping you,” I say.
“Good.” She turns around again to walk away but I put my hand on her shoulder. “What the hell? I thought you said you weren’t going to stop me? Why are you touching me?” The way she blushes tells me she’s thinking what I’m thinking. Still, I act respectful towards her. I don’t want her thinking the wrong things about me.
“Why are you acting like you don’t know who I am?” I ask her. “You saw me. Yesterday, at the funeral. You know what I did. Why haven’t you told anyone about me?”
“How do you know I haven’t?” she asks. “Anyway, I don’t need any more drama in my life. Thank you very much for your help, but I think I can take it from here.”
“At least let me walk you home,” I say. Shit, is she really going to make me beg like a pathetic loser? I mean, I like pussy as much as the next guy, but I’m not about to grovel on my hands and knees for it.
She sighs, looking all around. Maybe she’s looking for someone she knows, or maybe she’s waiting for a cop to walk by, so she can tell ‘em what I did. I don’t give a shit. I want her in my mouth. I need to bury my cock deep inside her.
“I don’t think that’s such a good idea.” My eyes follow the edge of her dress and every so often the wind blows it upwards, teasing me and exposing more flesh. I’m practically drooling.
“Sure it is. It’s a great idea. These streets are dangerous as sin,” I mutter. “And by the way, I know for a fact you didn’t tell anyone about me. If you did, I might be dead by now.”
“That’s why it’s not such a good idea,” she says. “You could get caught.”
“That’s a chance I’m willing to take, woman.” Her tits are perky and natural, just the way I like him. Her dress covers them elegantly and I can’t help but wonder what it would be like to rip the fabric to shreds.
“I can see that,” she laughs. “Listen. Are you crazy or something? Like, honestly. I’m a part of the Luciotti family. Does that name ring and bells for you? You could get massacred.”
“Some might say I’m crazy. Maybe they’re right. Who knows? But I highly doubt the Luciotti family has enough brains and brawn to take a man like me down. You don’t know who I am, little girl.”
Little girl. Those words sting. I can tell. I just want to drive the point home. I want her to realize who she’s dealing with before she falls head over heels in love with me. Okay, maybe I’m going into this like a cocky son of a bitch, but there hasn’t been one woman who’s turned me down yet. I doubt she’ll be the first.
“Then, tell me. Who are you?” she asks. “And don’t call me little girl. It’s gross and insulting.”
“My apologies,” I bow. “My name’s Hunter. Hunter Scapoli.”
“Is that name supposed to mean something to me?” She asks with enough sass to lay me out flat. She taps her foot impatiently when I smile. She’s brave. Nobody talks to me like she does. And, damn, does it turn me on.
“Doubt it. Not many people know who I am. Most think I’m dead. I’d like to keep it that way,” I say. “It’s easier to get things done when you’re a ghost.”
She laughs to herself, shaking her head. “Spooky,” she begins to walk, but motions me to come with. “Come on, ghost-man. Walk me home.”
“Come with me. This way.” I say, leading her down a secondary alleyway. These streets are my home now. I know every way to go. I have at least three different escape routes per avenue, and because my warehouse is in a central location, they all lead back home.
“So now that you’re taking me through some really sketchy alleyways, can you at least alleviate my fears that you’re not just some creep leading me to my doom?” she asks. “Like, what family are you working for exactly?”
“What family do you think I’m working for?” I eye her, walking fast, until we hit a busy street. We cross it and enter another back alley. Soon, we’re walking behind a neighborhood of dilapidated buildings, complete with burned out windows and graffiti of ticking watches that say ur time is up son.
“They all think you’re with New York. With Michael Tucciano. I don’t think they’re right though.” Smart woman.
As we walk, we come across a group of five or six drug slingers. They rob a young man and take off running in the opposite direction. What happened to my city? My beautiful city of Detroit, the one I grew up in. I have all sorts of memories here, and none of them are particularly good.
They’re my memories to hold. They paint a different picture of Detroit. It wasn’t long before the city collapsed. They say the city is getting better, but I hardly see a change. It’ll be a decade before it can thrive again. But that depends on the people pressing those buttons.
“New York?” I look at her cautiously. There’s nothing more dangerous than a woman with connections to the underworld. Then again, there’s nothing more fun. “Do I sound like I’m from New York to you?”
She laughs and gives me the side eye. She doesn’t know what to make of me. She’s full of fear and curiosity, two things that don’t mix well together. “No, I guess you don’t. Then again, you don’t look like you’re one of the New York boys, either.”
“What’s that supposed to mean? Should I take offense to that?” I ask her. I don’t know what the hell I’m doing walking this woman home. I’ve got a million hits out on my head. Anyone who has half a brain would have let her go. Me, however… well, she’s just too fucking hot to pass up.
I can’t stop imagining her voice, soft and breathy in my ear. Take me. Right here. Now. Rip my fucking panties off with your teeth. I imagine taking her right in this alley, fucking in a heat of passion. I want to take a belt to her ass. I want her to ride me until she screams with pleasure. I want her to writhe and moan as I shoot my cum all over her sex-slicked body.
I shake those images away. Being alone for the past three months has made me horny as hell. I have to remember to act like a gentleman.
“Those New Yorkers,” she says. “They’re all glitter and gold. I take one look at you and I can tell where you come from. I just don’t know who you’re serving. That part I can’t figure out.”
“Glitter and gold, huh? Maybe it’s best you don’t figure things out,” I warn her. “It’s not smart to get involved in these kinds of politics.”
“You’re right. I don’t really give a damn what gang you’re with. I hate the whole scene,” she sighs. I can tell we’ve hit a nerve. “It’s such bullshit, completely built on top of false ideology. I mean, you guys are all like killing each other left and right. And then you go home and you pray below your crosses and kiss your wife’s cheek. It’s totally insane. You know that, right?”
“Woman, you’re preaching to the choir,” I say. “You’re right. It is bullshit. So what’re you going to do about it?”
We’re near her house now and I know in a couple of minutes I’ll have to say goodbye. That’ll be it. We’ll go our separate ways. I’m not sure what I thought I’d gain by helping her out back there, but whatever I thought I’d get never came to fruition. An
yway, I can always find another strip club. I can find another broad.
“You know, I’m not going to do shit about it,” she laughs. “Really. I plan to finish out law school. I’m going to stay in San Francisco and I’m going to build a life. I guess I’ll spend out my days defending innocent people hurt by the system.”
I nod and pull out a cigarette from my pocket. I roll it around in my fingers, but don’t light it out of courtesy. “A lawyer? You? Well, that makes sense. You’re too intelligent for one of those low-level jobs,” I say. “They’ll try and use you though. That’s what they do. They use and they use, until you’re all used up. Then they throw you in the gutter.” She creases her forehead in thought. Maybe I’ve said too much.
“What do you mean they’ll use me? Who will?” she asks.
“Your Detroit friends. Ricky and the lot,” I say. “I know those guys well. You’re better off never talking to them again.”
“Oh yeah?” She skips ahead of me and turns around to face me. “You think I’m scared of them?”
“No, I suppose not,” I mutter. “That’s exactly why they’ll use you. All I’m saying is err on the side of caution.”
“Why do you care about helping me so much?” she asks. There it is. The big question. Why am I even here with her right now? Someone could see me. Someone could be holding a rifle to my head, right at this very moment. “What’s your deal?”
She’s stopped walking and is facing me like no other woman has before. I walk up to her slowly, eyeing her up and down. Does she know who she’s dealing with? Does she know I’m a killer? “I killed that man. Tony Maccione,” I say, under my breath. The streets are quiet. There’s only the sound of us, except for the noises of children playing in the distance.
“I know that,” she says, lightly. I can sense that she’s starting to feel the fear trickle in. Maybe she’s questioning herself, and wondering why the hell she took the beaten path with a guy like me.
