The Hit Woman's Assassination Handbook

by Jane Brooke

  He capitulates, coughs, groans. “If I give you another, will you promise to leave me be?”

  Blue eyes sparking, that’s more like it, she loves getting her way, she lies.

  “Of course. When? Looks like I’m stuck here over the weekend. Cars broke. Maybe later I could stop by, chat a bit.”

  She grows agitated. “Find out why the fuck a great writer is cleaning this shit hole. What do you sa....”

  As she prattles away, he studies her.

  The way the words are formed along those lips, it strikes awe in him. He is becoming engrossed with her. Of course that until his brain begins to spark and unable to take her any longer, for he feels human again, he coughs, snaps out the word.

  “ENOUGH.”

  Slapping her hand to her mouth, she giggles.

  “I’m sorry, Jason. I’m not used to talking to someone smarter than me...More talen...”

  “We’re not talking. AND, I’m not smarter than you. GO, I will get you more of my work. Just leave me alone...Please.”

  “Maybe tonight?”

  He groans, coughs twice, looks through his hair at her.

  “Yes, yes...Okay...But not now. Please.”

  “Deal. Don’t keep me waiting.” She jokes, “Or I will have to hunt you down and kill you.” She giggles.

  He smiles. The act feels foreign to his partial lips.

  He actually giggles to himself, likes her, very much. Yet, he is what he is. He remembers, becomes dire again, goes to protest as he is white washed out by her words.

  “Terrific. By the way. I’ve read a thousand books. Though I am clinically insane.” She giggles, “To my thinking, never have I read such genius, and, well, so much tenderness and pain...I...I”

  “Yes....pain...GO.”

  “Okay, okay.”

  Whimpers, like her puppy, no one has ever told her to GO. Not once and not ever. She likes it.

  Then, like some kind of barely unseen Nebula, she dissolves into the darkness and pretends to slam the back door. She presses her body back into her secret, black alcove. She wants to be near him. She is being drawn by his voice and talent. She wonders what he looks like. She does not know, but does know she will soon find out.

  Bending his head, he spills his tangled long hair to the floor, just staring at his mottled hands.

  “Well, well. How touchin’. The war hero done got himself a fan club.”

  Mandal tenses. She watches as Billy, carrying saddle bags in his hands, moves to his crouching brother and hovers over him.

  Slowly, Jason Cox lifts his head, peering from the recess of his cowl at nothingness. He is silent, gazing at his brother through his tangled hair.

  Mandal swallows, she feels hatred. Her hand slips under her bomber, fingers fondling her 44, gripping, re gripping it.

  Billy laughs.

  “Poor Jason...Ha, ha, ha...She ain’t seen the likes a ya before...Huh, bro?”

  Coarse voice, pain, physical, the mental, he wheezes. “I...I...I...Don’t know...She just...”

  He goes silent, as Billy bends, starts petting his hair like a family pet.

  His face lowers, eyes to eyes, his remarkable face, stitched close to Billy’s handsome face. Billy grabs a fist of his long hair, rips his head back, snarls.

  “Look at ya. What ya gonna do ugly boy. Run off an get yerself hitched...Yer pathetic...Why done ya just die.”

  Mandal feels as if blood is seeping out of her eye sockets.

  Always tempestuous, temper never far from her lips, she slides the 44 out.

  Eyes rampant, acute with rage, she lifts it, hands shaking, aims the site directly at the back of Billy head.

  She wants it, to take the kill shot, but his skull is in line with Jasons

  44 power, penetration, move, take the shot, do it, she stalls out.

  Billy, laughs, sadistically smiles, releases his brothe’rs hair, stands and throws the saddle bags to the floor.

  “Yer writin’ and drawin’ stuff.”

  He smirks, kicks the bucket of water over, smirks more and as he walks away, he says. “Just clean the bar ya fuckin’ freak. Never mind that Betty.”

  Mandal, unable to focus, tears of rage in her hustlers eyes, lowers the 44, dangles it at her side. She can take no more as she slides out the back door.

  Instantly, she inhales her fury, fumbles with a smoke, finds a match and with oscillating fingers scratches it, flames her smoke, exhales,. She knows now she will murder Billy, one way or the other before all is said and done.

  She sniffs her rage, violence, her face tightens, nothing she can do now as she turns, moves back towards the Motel.

  Nothing more, nothing less than complete revenge is now stapled into her mind.

  Back at the porch, she knows, as before, within a time she hoped she would never see again, she now knows that she would kill again, once more.

  Slowly melting into her room, there was no doubt of who that victim would be.

  Get Back To It

  BACK to the motel, pow wow with Angel, excited to see her, back to the pillow, pets, licks, Mandal giggles.

  Get it together, your fucking life is strung out on a line, stop indulging, wire it back up, tight, cool out the fucking outrage, get it all back on the rails.

  Back to the porch, impossible to sleep, over at the Quonset, Arvan, jerking off with the truck, AGAIN.

  What about HER, always HER.

  She moans. She wants to fuck with his Little Brain, that’s on her menu.

  Get him back on program so she can scoot out of crazy ville alive.

  Arvan sees her, grins and wipes brown spittle from his chin. Grease, red rag waving from his hands, looks at the ripe moon and, then yells. “Hey, Betty, What a ya think a this Texas moon?”

  I’d like to put a 44 slug in Billys head, watch the moon through that. She does not say.

  Face twitches.

  Who is she now”? Oh yes, Betty, so frail, so need, so in love.

  Things change fast, get complicated, Billy now, standing off the porch, right in front of her, leering at her.

  Where in the fuck did he come from?

  Fuck, she thinks. How do I play this mess now?

  Need a moment, compose your self, cigarette out, fumbled matches, flame, inhale, exhale, pouts from lips. Let him get the full story, again.

  “How ya doin’ Betty. Nice moon, huh?”

  She peeks at Arvan. He looks unhappy, scowling, that’s good, or bad.

  Who the fuck knows?

  Mandal smokes, smiles, haze pearling out from her lips.

  “I guess they grow moons and cowboys real big in Texas!” Giggles from her as she stares at Billy.

  Right answer she decides as she feels a little uncomfortable for Billy is looking a little curious at her cigarette.

  Wanting to burn the ash into his eyes, she is silent.

  “Say, how bout one a them Marlboro’s?”

  “Sure, cowboy.”

  Flip, he catches the pack. She slaps her pocket for her Zippo. She groans. Match book in her hand, flips that to him too.

  “Here.”

  Billy, primal, revolves the matches in his hand and thinks. He lifts his eyes, looks at her curiously. Her stomach is dissolving acid.

  Does he know? Is he fucking with her? Is he bright enough to to do that?

  She just can’t get a read on him.

  “Say, Betty. Where’s that nifty lighter a yers?”

  Well, dear. I was sneaking around your under ground meth lab. After I stole your dynamite, 38, a grand and well asshole I was an idiot, careless and lost it.

  “Left it somewhere in my room.” She giggles, “Its a mess in there.”

  She can barely breathe as he stares
at the matches. He lift his eyes, smiles, strikes a match, smokes, stares at the cigarette, maybe a little to long, smiles.

  “Marine Corp. lighter, weren’t it. My brother was in the Corp. You in the Corp. Betty?

  There is nothing she likes about the convo, in the slightest.

  Fuck, is he bright enough to fuck with her, trap her, or is he just making small talk?

  “Nope. My dad was a general, straight arrow. Gave it to me.”

  Truth now, have to, no other way, show him you’re an honest gal, a regular gal, someone he can trust, never doubt, love for ever, fuck forever.

  “I met your brother. Seems like a nice man, I love to read. A soldier, huh?”

  Honesty, is the best policy. It’s the first time for the strumpet, she likes it.

  “Yeah, a real fucking prince.”

  Revolving the smoke in his fingers, remembering the bar scene, Private Eye Billy Cox looks at her, something ain’t right, maybe he’s just being paranoid, asks.

  “Whys ya say ya was goin’ West?”

  She racks her brain trying to recall what she told who, and when she told them it. Figuring that Billy, Arvan aren’t Scrabble kings of small talk, why not make something up, her MO.

  “Saved a little money, got more, after my dad died. Looking for a fresh start. You know, maybe open a health food store, a Yoga studio. Every body needs a fresh start, Billy...” She guffaws. “Me being so lonely and so alone and such.”

  Alone...Lonely...BINGO.

  I have Bingo Sir.

  Perfect grift and the right words.

  Watching gears grinding in his head is like looking into a fish tank.

  His small brain, a tiny gold fish, poking around, little flippers flipping, lips puckering, looking for another gold fish to fuck.

  She wants to break out laughing, that is if she weren’t so fucking terrified of the muscles rippling on his body, his huge dick, pressing against his brass zipper.

  “Yeah, can be real lonely, a pretty gal like yerself, out they’re bye yer lonesome.”

  Phew.

  Shes okay, back to bidness as the scent of homicide recedes, just a little bit.

  “Yeah, Billy. Very lonely. What’s a girl to do? Seems to be a shortage of good men around.”

  Pouts, hint, hint, hint.

  “I mean, if a girl had a man...a strong man...a smart and good man...well a girl could go along way knowin’ her man was protectin’ her.”

  Deeper now, deeper into the maze, the primal ooze, the White Death Orchid, so enticing, so beautiful, so deadly. She, so ghostly, setting the snare, like her flower sister, the so alluring Venus Fly Trap, razor spines, digestive fluids yearning to eat his mind, his spine. Come closer my lovely, peek here, so I can crush my mouth around your fucking sadistic head, cutting it right off of your shoulders, swallowing it until you are dead.

  Not wanting to play anymore, she wants to murder him, clean and simple, but that of course must wait.

  Through an exhale of smoke, she purrs. “Billy.”

  He looks up, passion gouged into his eyes. “Yeah, Betty.”

  “You don’t know where I could find a man like that, do ya yeah, honey?”

  Hoping his dick don’t blow out of his pants, even she can see he understands every innuendo that just puked out of her trollop lips.

  Unable to control his crude, Spartan lust, he grabs her butt, both hands, pulls, just as she is able to bend her elbows between her breasts and his chest. She whips her head back and forth, avoiding his attempt at trying to stick his tongue down her throat.

  WOW, BILLY...WOW.” She breaks away...Plays it her way.

  “WOW...slow down, Billy, slow....What about Sue?”

  Ready to deny that he even knows anyone named, Sue, he bores in again. He just wants one more of those tow melting kisses before the fuckin’ begins.

  “BILLY.”

  Hands out, Billy at bay, Mandal is jerking her head all around, The last thing she needs is Sue showing up right now. Sure, a good beating is fun, but one more, she might not live long enough to get another.

  “Come on, Baby. I tol ya, we got a understandin’.”

  Mandal touches her swollen, black, blue, eye, remembers that understandin’, Billy goes on.

  “I knowed ya was watchin’ us, back before. Don’t ya want some a that kinda good lovin?”

  Gang rape comes to Mandals mind.

  “Ya want me, I can see it. Don’t ya.”

  With his zipper barely able to take just so much dick pressure, he grabs her arms, rips her in, pouring his tongue down her throat. She beats her hands at him, gurgling for him to stop.

  “GET THE FUCK AWAY FROM MY MAN, YA FUCKING TRAMP.”

  Saved by the bell.

  Speaking of blond, sexy tramps, SUE’S voice BOOMS into the scene.

  Teeth barred, frothing, she leaps on the porch, trying to dig into Mandal. Billy grabs her, rips her off.

  Billy “Yelps”, turns, fends her clawing fangs off.

  Mandal, glad to see her, presses against the wall, once again whispers. “This should be good.”

  Billy laughing, maybe, a little afraid, fends off her flailing fists. He grabs her, lifts her, wrap’s his arms around her waist from the back, as she wildly kicks her legs out.

  “I’LL KILL HER...KILL HER...YA HEAR!”

  Mandal, feels horrible, actually compassion for the poor dear girl, can only watch.

  Billy, never a long fuse to begin with, whips her around, lifts her into the air and get’s into her straining face.

  “HEY....We was jest playin’. Calm the FUCK DOWN.”

  He lowers her, her boots hit the ground.

  She makes a Bee line directly for her worst fucking night mare. Billy reaches out, rips her pony tail back. Jerking back, she she’s in mid kick, goes flying back, caught by the wrists by his vices for mitts.

  “BITCH. Comin’ round here shakin’ her skinny ass at ya.” She tries to twist away, screams, “I’ll FUCK HER UP. YA HEAR ME.”

  Billy does a little twist, rears back, swings and “WHACK.”

  Head splits back, Sue does a pirouette, falls to the ground, shakes her head back and forth, moans, groans. She looks up through threads of blond hair, bloody teeth, cut lip, knowing it’s over, at least for the moment.

  Mandal, notches just one more reason into her cerreberal handgun, knows that before she scoots, Billy is gonna be faced down in the dirt.

  Billy peeks at Mandal. She shakes her head, wondering what the sadist will possibly say to her to fix it in his moronic brain.

  “Chill, Sue. I tol ya, we was jest playin.”

  He bends, lifts her like snow a flake. His simmering frosted blue eyes, tell her to shut up. She turns, turns back and points her shaking finger at Betty.

  “I ain’t done with you. Look in the mirror. That as good as yer ever gonna look, whore.”

  Billy takes a step, Sue sees a raised fist; she makes giddy up back towards the bar.

  Billy scratches his head, looks at his Betty, mumbles. “That Sue, she a bit fiery a times.”

  That’s it. The prefect explanation tendered Mandal thinks.

  She almost laughs out loud, but plays it tight.

  Just string him along a little longer. Don’t let your temper get the best of you. Embarrass him, just a little bit, make him owe you, so he will die for you.

  “That’s some understandin’ ya got with her, Billy.”

  Billy peeks at his boots, shuffles some dirt, comes up grinning, know’s he’s been busted.

  “Yeah, ain’t it?”

  “What’s goin’ on Billy?”

  Head aching’ cause he’s thinkin’ to much, he plays the only cards he has left.

  “I’m done with Sue
. Da ya remember, Betty, what I tol ya, about my bidness. YA got a trust me. Lots a money is comin’, nough fer us. So ya don’t got ta be so lonely, alone, ya understand.”

  Like a school girl at Miss Mary’s Academy for Virgins she innocently nods.

  Yeah, she remembers, why don’t you tell me again, asshole. The words never leave her lips.

  Yep, she remembers.

  You me, condo in Dallas. My face rearranged every so often after you tired of fucking me. Sure baby, let’s role.

  Oops, can’t say that.

  “I told ya, Billy. I’m scared...Your not lying to me...I can trust you, right?”

  Billy thinks. Damn, shes precious.

  He winks at her, she winks back, lots a blinking going on.

  Peeking around, waiting for more Kamikaze action from Sue, he gets conspiratorial.

  “Ya gotta trust me, Betty. I love ya. Money, big money is comin’. I’ll take care a ya, ferever. Promise. Be back, maybe tamarra, next day. Then, you an me, Betty, ferever...”

  Ferever. What an interesting word, knowng his forever involves his throat slit, while he sleeps, first chance she gets.

  Glycerin movie tears, nods, moist eyes like a puppy, hey she has a puppy, back to bidness. More looks, he’s the greatest, swell, she whispers like a dove with a broken wing.

  “Okay, Billy...darling...I trust you.” Fragile, so needy, Texas men like that; I’m like that. For the moment that is.

  Wink, wink back, he grins, turns, moves towards the garages where Arvan oblivious of her recent peril is revving the fucking trucks engine again.

  Massive groan, staying in character to long, even great actors have problems with that.

  Slump, slouch, groans, moans, ciggy between her lips, pats for the Zippo, more groans. See’s the dropped pack of matches on the dirt, bends. “SNAP.” There goes a rib. She winces in pain for the fucking sadist hurt her, like he hurt Sue.

  “Mother fucker.” She seethes.

  Then, to her delight, Arvan driving the Pick-up, Billy sitting shotgun, drives to the road, moves left, lays rubber and roars down the highway.

  “Thank fucking God.” She moans

  She is hoping that the brothers will be emulsified by a head on with an armored car.