by Kara Hart
“Who the fuck did it? I want names, God dammit!” he yells.
Someone else screams, “Where’d he go? I saw him! He was right next to me, I swear it!”
“What did he look like?” My dad asks, “Give me all the information. We need men on the streets now.”
I walk slowly out in the hall and see Tony Maccione, lying in a pool of his own blood. I fall backwards and trip, hitting the floor hard. “Shit,” I groan. I shield my eyes and then I start to feel sick. On the ground, I’m facing the window on the front door of our house.
Outside is that man again, dressed in his black suit. He simply nods and ducks away into an alleyway across the street. “Who are you?” I whisper among the commotion. He’s quick and completely soundless, like a ghost.
“Where is he, you fucking idiots?” Ricky screams at his goons. I quickly realize, that man I saw is out for blood and it’s not going to be over anytime soon.
I actually laugh, as deranged as it sounds. It’s not going to be over anytime soon. It never is. No, things are not going to get any easier and I’m stuck right in the middle of it. No doubt, Ricky is going to get my side of the family involved and there will be more bloodshed.
“Great,” I shake my head. “All because of a debt that went unpaid and a few harsh words exchanged.”
“Welcome back to the family,” Ricky smiles. “It’s hell out there.”
Hunter
I’m no fucking saint. I think we’ve cleared that up from the get go. No, I’m death himself. One down, five more to go. All those that have wronged me must die. Tony Maccione threw me under the bus. He was always so fucking friendly, always walking around with a smile on his face. “Let’s have a drink!” he said to me, before trying to gun me down. “Every so often, a man needs to celebrate his life by getting drunk with a good friend.”
Well, I didn’t know I was walking into my own funeral party. Looks like he just walked into his.
But that was the past and this is the present. Debts will be cleared and I will have my revenge. Only, now I need to remain quiet. I need to wait until this dies down before I’m good to strike again.
This old warehouse I’m staying in isn’t exactly ideal, but it’ll have to do. My thoughts, however, run wild when I’m alone. There’s no one to talk to. No one, except the rats in the piping. They tip toe across the floorboards, tip tap, tip tap, and they hardly ever stop. Fuck, I gotta get out of here.
I wait until nightfall to leave. There’s an old strip club down the way. It’s a place not too many people know about and it’s pretty damn awful. Still, it’s something, and I need some entertainment tonight. I need a wet cunt to pound and a reason to keep living.
It’s not all about revenge. Sometimes it’s about pleasure too. There was that girl today. God, she was fucking hot. That’s a real woman if I ever saw one. She was young, beautiful, and she spoke her mind. If I could pay her to give me a show, I would. I bet she’s a freak in bed, a total beggar. With that perfect Italian skin, her wavy brown hair, and those thick lips… Marone! She ought to go into modeling or something.
I keep thinking about her. I’m not sure why either. Women are common in my business, but I guess it’s been a long time since I’ve gotten mine. It’s something about her purity. It’s something in that look she gave me. A mixture of curiosity and loathing. Lord knows I love a woman who hates my guts. It only makes the chase that much better.
I slip out of my humble abode and walk four blocks. A thundercloud cracks above my head and rain starts to crash down on the city streets of Detroit. This is the underbelly of crime, corruption, and distrust. This is the city I grew up in. More likely than not, this is the city I’ll die in. I just hope I can get another taste of pussy before I go.
Blocks later, I’m standing in the doorway to “Girls, Girls, Girls!” the shadiest adult club in the entire city. The door guy takes one look at me and waves me in. I tip him a twenty and move along.
When I walk inside, the music is blaring and the tits are out in full force. They hired a group of young girls and I can tell they’re new by the way they’re standing with each other. I call a blonde over and say, “Give me three shots of vodka and a VIP room. I want you for myself tonight.”
“Um, okay!” she smiles and runs to the bar to grab my drinks. The way her cute butt bounces up and down makes my heart quicken. She’s ditzy, but she’ll do. I’m not out here to have a philosophical discussion with the woman.
I’m going to have to be careful with her. I straighten my suit out and adjust the cufflinks. I look at myself in the mirror and the neon lights flicker all around me. I look on point tonight, that’s for sure. And even though I’m essentially still a prisoner and an outlaw, I feel free for once. Killing Tony has given me a wave of energy.
She comes back with four shots and I look at her angrily. “Did you even listen to a word I said to you? Three shots, I said. Three. I’m not paying for this other one.” I push the shot away and watch how she reacts. Yeah, I’m a bastard. Tonight, I can afford to be.
She bats her eyes and kisses my cheek, “Oh, Daddy. Don’t be silly,” she purrs. “This one is for me. You don’t expect me to go into a VIP room dry. Do you?”
“Daddy, huh?” I smile. “You like calling me that? Does it turn you on?”
“Yes, mister,” she smiles, running her hands across her tits. She presses them together and I chuckle to myself.
“Oh, boy,” I laugh. “I’m in for a world of trouble, aren’t I?”
“Sure are,” she says. She grabs my face and forces it in between her tits. I can feel her nipples practically poking my eyes out. Maybe I did die earlier. Maybe I died and went to heaven.
She’s not going to be dry, I think to myself. There’s just no fucking way. She’s going to be wet as a fucking whistle once she sees what I’m packing. “On second thought,” I say, “you better grab the whole bottle.”
“It’s in the room,” she smiles. “Follow me.”
“Baby, I’ll follow you to the ends of the earth and back if I have to,” I say, laughing to myself. “Tonight, you’re mine.”
“A possessive man, huh? My kind of guy,” she moans.
We sit down in the room. The outside music cuts against the wall and the bass rattles the door. I fall back against the leather booth and unbutton my suit. I feel completely relaxed for once and I’m feeling like having a good time with her.
In a bucket of ice is champagne and vodka. “You want another drink?” she asks me, noticing I’ve taken my shots. “There’s champagne. We could celebrate.”
“Of course,” I smile and grab the bottle. “A celebration is clearly in order.” I wrap two fingers around the end of the bottle and press down hard against the cork. “Now, arch that back for me baby.”
She puts out her ass for me and I pour the whole bottle of champagne on her. “See, you’re not dry anymore. Are you?” I ask her. An arrogant smile forms on my face. I could give two shits about this girl. I just came here because I’m losing my mind in that old warehouse. I’m so fucking bored, I need anything to keep me distracted.
“Hey, you fucking asshole. Now I’m all sticky!” The woman actually slaps me. Of course, this turns me on even more than before. I laugh loudly and pick her up so she’s on my lap, dripping.
“Don’t worry, there’s an extra two hundred for you, for playing nice,” I whisper against her ear. Out of my peripheral, I can see the goose bumps form across her neck. Hard play turns this woman on. “Plus, it’s not like you weren’t going to get sticky anyway.” I kiss her neck and push her off of me.
“Okay, Daddy. Anything you want.” The way she says Daddy makes me shiver with pleasure. It’s so wrong that it feels completely right. I stand up and take off my suit jacket, getting comfortable.
“Dance for me,” I command her. She smiles and closes her eyes, feeling her perfectly sized tits. They’re fake, which isn’t really my thing, but they’ll have to do. I haven’t cum in weeks, so at this point, I�
�ll take what I can get.
“Good girl,” I groan. “You’re dirty. You know that?”
She opens her mouth slightly, just enough to breathe out sensually, and pushes her tits into my face. She straddles my lap and I instantly get hard. “I like being dirty,” she says.
She’s so submissive. Of course it turns me on, but I can’t help but want something different. This girl’s family is from Scandinavia or some shit, but I keep forming this story in my head that she’s straight from Sicily. I keep picturing that fucking girl at the funeral, the one with the big lips, and she’s gyrating her ass against my cock. Fuck! The thought that I might never get to fuck her drives me absolutely insane.
I shake the idea off, feeling the vodka start to work its magic. I grab the bottle and take another swig. Then I force it into the stripper’s mouth. She obediently drinks. “What do you want me to do?” she asks me.
“Take off all your clothes,” I demand. “I want to see every bit of you.”
She slips out of her latex outfit and her perky ass is round, juicy, and inviting me in. Still, it’s nothing like that girl’s. I just know it. An Italian ass is… well, it’s everything those Italian poets wrote, dreamed, and jacked off about.
“Finger yourself,” I grunt, taking another swig. I’m starting to feel really drunk at this point. It’s perfect. This is a night to remember. I can tell I’m freaking her out, but I don’t give a shit. I’m paying her for her time.
“That’ll be extra,” she says. “And you can’t tell no one. Bobby will kill you if he finds out.”
“Bobby won’t do shit to me,” I say. “Bobby is an old friend. He owes me a favor or two. You, however, deserve the world. Tonight’s your lucky night. I’ll give you an extra hundred bucks to shut up and play with yourself.”
“Yes, sir,” she says, sitting her ass down against the red-leather booth. She spreads her legs and laughs awkwardly. She’s completely smooth down there and it kind turns me off that she’s too afraid to be a fucking woman, but in the end it’s all pussy to me. “Do you like it when I do this?” she smacks her lips with her fingers.
“No. Frankly, I don’t,” I say, to her surprise. “I want you to cum. There’s no way doing what you’re doing turns you on. Stop the act.”
She blushes and sits back, “Okay, look. I’m just doing this job so I can get through college. You’re my second client.”
“Good. So you’ll pay off some of your debt with me tonight.” I smile. “We’re going to have a good time. You’re going to cum for me, got it? Go ahead, close your eyes if you have to.”
She nods her head slowly and closes her eyes. Her breathing slows down as she starts to swivel her fingers against her clit. Every so often, she wets her fingers and pushes two inside herself. “Good girl,” I say, staring at her wet mound.
My cock is hard as a rock. I unzip my pants and pull out all of it. When she opens her eyes, they look wide and longing. I can tell she’s fucking turned on. “Suck it,” I whisper. “I’ll give you a grand total.” I’ve got all the money in the world to spend. My whole fortune is hidden in the rat-infested ceilings of that warehouse.
She falls to her knees and wraps her lips around my throbbing cock. She instantly begins to shake. “You going to cum for me, baby?” I ask her, moving her silky hair from her eyes. I put her coconut scented locks into a ponytail and push her forward on my shaft.
She moans, mouth full. “Mmhmm.”
She falls forward, trembling. Her mouth starts to hang open and she’s drooling. When she moans loudly, I know she’s cumming. I’ve given her money and the orgasm of a lifetime. She should be grateful.
I push forward and feel myself grow close to the edge. When I start to lose my sense of balance, I pull it out and spin her around, pushing her ass in front of me. I stroke my cock until it bursts, cum spilling out onto her tight flesh. My whole body shakes with pleasure and my drunkenness creeps up on me.
“Fuck!” I scream. “Jesus, baby.”
She smiles, cum dripping off her backside, and turns around. “Thank you,” she whispers. That’s a good girl…
I put my cock back into my pants and feel the euphoria rush away from me. What I’m left with is a feeling of paranoia and guilt. I still want that girl from the funeral. No. I fucking need her. This little slut means nothing to me. She’s just a fun time, someone to get my rocks off to.
I kiss her cheek and whisper into her ear. “Good luck with your college. Don’t drop out like I did,” I smile and pull out a wad of cash. I lay it out on the table. “Here’s two grand. Make something of yourself.”
“That’s it? You’re leaving? After twenty minutes? Can I give you my number?” She covers her tits up like she feels indecent, which is sort of confusing since this is a fucking strip club. I should’ve known just to get a lap dance and bail. The women here always want a sugar daddy to cling to. Fuck that. I ain’t about to settle down with any woman, let alone a hooker like her.
“Sorry, baby. You were fun. But that’s it. Have a good night.” I walk out through the door and enter into the neon-lit hallway. I stumble out of the club, laughing to myself. Fuck, I’m really going insane out here in hiding.
Walking hurriedly home, I hear footsteps across the street. I turn quickly and it’s just a homeless guy, some bum who’s looking for drugs. “Hey, man. You holding?”
“Fuck off,” I tell him. “Get a job.” I’m an asshole. I know. I don’t give a damn.
I won’t be going back to that club. I always leave feeling disgusted with myself. That, and it’s just not a smart move to be out in any public place, especially a strip club. An Irish gang, the McCoy family, owns that club so it’s probably safe. Still, you never know what kind of deal they could get for turning a guy like me in.
Yeah, I’d have to stay holed up in that warehouse for a little longer than planned. At least I have the image of that beautiful young temptress at the funeral, the one who couldn’t stop staring my way. I have to find her. I have to make her mine. I want it more than the bodies I'm camping out here for.
Bianca
I wake up in the early morning to the whispering of old mobsters in my basement. This isn't anything new to me. What they don’t know, is that the old house’s ventilation system leads into my room. Lucky for me, I get to hear every single deal that's made between the five families and the occasional beat down or interrogation.
“Pigs,” I moan, shaking myself awake. “They're all just a bunch of pigs.”
The blinds to my window are open and even though it's still pretty dark outside, I see the faint figure of a man walk across our yard. I run to the window and open it, looking outside. Only, now there's nothing. The trees rustle, then fall still. All is silent, except for the whispering. “I have to get out of this house,” I sigh, falling back into bed. “Just two more weeks here and then I can get back to classes.”
I can barely get back to sleep. The voices downstairs grow loud and full of anger. My dad’s voice is the first obvious one I can pick out. “No, I will not let you seek out your petty revenge in this house!” he says, though it's muffled against the wall.
A younger man’s voice, my brother’s, speaks up, “Cowards!” he yells. “Blood for blood. That's what you taught me, right?”
“I taught you no such thing, Giovanni,” my dad hisses back. I can just picture him, winding his arm back to slap the crap out of him. My dad is no angel. He's been knowing to take a hand to the cheek every now and then, and right now, I wouldn't blame him if he did.
“Tony was our uncle,” he says. My brother sounds like he's about to cry. He’s a total drama queen, as always. Even at age 28, he still acted like a child. “And what about our grandfather? By God, somebody has to take action. If we don't, our family name will remain the laughing stock of Detroit until we’re all dead and buried.”
“And then none of this will matter anymore,” I hear Dad’s fist slam against the table. “Don't you see how futile your actions are? If you ran
the gang like a business, maybe you'd get somewhere. Instead, you're all about gold rings and silver pistols. You need to grow up, Nico. I can't stop you now. You're old enough to fight your own battles. Don't become a casualty like the rest of them. Quit now and help me with the real family business.”
My brother laughs and raises his voice, “You want me to ship textiles to China? Don’t you see how degrading that is, Dad? You're letting people in third world countries dictate how much you're getting paid. It's disgusting! Where's your pride?”
“Don't talk to your father like that,” a voice says back. It's calmer and full of experience. I can't exactly make the person out, but I think it’s our cousin Marco. “Ricky and I here want justice. But, eh, we think it's best you stay out of it. Be a man and help out your father.”
“But I want to help,” my brother says. “I need to help.”
I can hear Ricky’s boots click against the cement floor. He says, “Nico, you'll always be a son to all of us. For Christ’s sake, you're family. And when the time comes, we’ll use your help. Right now, though, we need you to help out over here.” I can hear him take a drag from his cigarette before he continues, “Anyway, I think it's those goons from New York. They took out your grandfather and then used Tony as a warning. I'm sure of it.”
He doesn't sound too sure, though. I have a feeling it's just a shitty guess too. Ricky is a terrible Commander in Chief and if he suggests they go to war, I'll be patiently waiting for their funerals.
“Alright,” my dad says, “there's not much else to discuss. Can we go upstairs now? I’m tired of talking about business.”
“Sure, sure,” Ricky says, hypnotically. “Whatever works, boss. Don't worry, you two. Things will get taken care of. That much I know.”
I assume they shake hands and kiss each other’s cheeks, and then make their way upstairs. At this point, the sun has made its way over the horizon and I can't get back to sleep at all. The sound of Nico’s footsteps creak along the wooden floor of the hallway to his room, and I can't help but peek my head out.
