by Jimmy Pudge
“Hell fucking yes, brother. Hells yes.”
“You got it.”
Chapter 13
Instead of risking a trip back to Ron’s with another potential body to discard, we rented a room at a Ramada Inn and brought the car around to the side of the motel. I grabbed the KFC chicken bucket and unlocked the door while Ronald pulled the bound hostage out of the trunk and dragged him inside the room.
We taped him to a chair, and I questioned him while eating a chicken breast.
“You know Mal?”
“No habla ingles.”
I took a bite out of my chicken breast. It was dry. I threw it at the hostage, the chicken meat sliding off his face into his lap. He looked down at the breast, then up at me. I could see hatred in his eyes.
“How do you know Mal?”
“No habla ingles.”
I took out a pocketknife, flicked the blade open. I grabbed a biscuit from the box and took a bite.
“You and Mal partners? Do you work for him?”
“No habla—“
I jammed the biscuit in his mouth and stabbed him in the thigh. His eyes widened. I pulled the knife out.
“Man, you’re fucking crazy!’ he said, spitting biscuit out of his mouth.
“Tell me about Mal.”
“Can’t, hombre. That motherfucker will kill me.”
“You tell me about, Mal, and we’ll kill him, so you got nothing to worry about.”
He started laughing. “Oh shit,” he said, laughing harder, tears falling from his eyes.
“You think this shit is funny?” I said, picking up a Styrofoam cup of mashed potatoes and smelling it. Smelled damn good. I sporked some up and took a bite. Melted in your mouth.
“Man, my arm is hurting bad. It’s bleeding bad. Now my leg is killing me too. I need a doctor, ese.”
I took another bite of mashed potatoes.
“There’s some brown gravy over here, if you want it on your taters,” Ron said from the kitchen table.
“That’s okay,” I said. I need to watch my cholesterol. I turned my attention back to the hostage. He was going to talk, one way or the other. I pulled Claire’s picture out, put it in front of his face.
He quit talking.
He looked away from the picture.
“Ah, shit, man,” he said.
“What do you know about the woman in this picture?” I said.
“Put that away. I don’t want to see her face.”
“You know her?”
“Yeah,” he said. “I knew her.”
“You did?” I said, trying not to seem shocked this interview was going well.
“I didn’t approve of any of that shit,” the man said. “I’m not that kind of a person.”
“What shit?”
“That illegal porn shit, man.”
I lowered the picture. “Claire was in porn movies?”
“Mal made them. Snuff films. Every last one of them. Had a deal with Jerome. Mal produces the films and Jerome sells them.”
Handy dropped the picture on the floor. “Claire was in snuff films?”
“Si. Her and her sister, hombre. The perverts pay mucho dinero for that sick shit.”
“Jesus,” I said, feeling faint. I sat down on the bed, no longer feeling hungry.
“You okay, Handy?” Ron asked, licking his fingers.
“Yeah,” I said.
I looked our hostage in his eyes for a moment. “Why are you telling me all of this? You just tried to kill us.”
“Listen, amigo, I got a family, and they rely on my paycheck, okay? It wasn’t nothing personal. I’m just trying to earn a living the best way I can. It’s not like I can go to Wal-Mart and apply for a job. I don’t even have a VISA.”
“Yeah, but why let us know about all this sick shit?”
“Because, man, I’m not a bad person. You have to be a monster to do the things Mal does. He’s my boss, I rely on that check, you know? But looking at that girl’s face, fuck it, man. Take his ass out.”
“Who is Jerome?” I asked.
“You already met Jerome. He calls himself Black Elvis. He sounds just like him too, when he sings. He’s the one that called Mal and told him you’d be at the Shot Hut on Mercer.”
Things were starting to make sense somewhat. I just didn’t understand what the snuff films had to do with Claire’s murder at the motel. Maybe the hostage did.
“I woke up beside Claire’s dead body in a motel room the other morning. You wouldn’t happen to know why, would you?”
The Mexican shook his head. “Claire’s body?” he said.
“Yeah,” I said.
He looked puzzled.
“What is it?” I asked.
“Nothing,” he said. “You sure it was Claire?”
“That’s what she said her name was.”
“Look, ese, all I know is that Mal took the girl you was with out of the room while I got the snuff film she’d stolen out of the room safe. I didn’t realize the girl we killed was Claire. Thought maybe it was another girl. The girl we iced was threatening to go to the police with this shit if Mal didn’t pay her a million dollars. Mal don’t do blackmail though.”
“Yeah,” I said. “You killed Claire. Mal and her had a falling out.”
“Maybe. Who knows? Look, man that last film Mal made, oh man, I didn’t see it but I heard about it. They said Claire was the one who got it bad. They strung her up and stabbed her. Not enough to kill her, but her sister was licking blood off the wounds, so fucking drugged up she probably didn’t know where she was or even who she was.”
“That’s horrible.”
“It is,” the Mexican said.
Ronald got up from the table and walked to us, his thumbs in his belt. “Man, that chicken was good.”
“Where’s Mal, now?” I asked.
“I don’t know. Maybe he’s at Jerome’s place.”
“Okay,” I said, standing up. I looked at Ronald. “I guess he told us everything we need. What do we do now, let him go?”
Ronald smiled. “First thing he’ll do is call his boss. He needs that paycheck, cuz.”
“No, I won’t,” the Mexican said. “I promise.”
“Alright, then,” Ron said. “I guess I’ll let him go.”
Ron leaned over the hostage, then brought the hollow of his palm up so quick I could barely see what was going on. The meaty palm connected with the nose and sent cartilage up through the man’s brainpan. The hostage’s head slumped over. The Mexican was dead.
“What the fuck?” I said.
“I let him go,” Ron said.
We left the motel. We had registered under a fake name, courtesy of Ronald’s fake license, so it wasn’t critical we take the dead man with us.
We hit the interstate and drove back to the neon sign that read Sell Your Booty Pawn & Loan. It was lightly raining, creating a pink halo around the sign.
We walked inside, guns drawn, the door bells chiming, but there was no Elvis impersonator at the front counter to greet us. I walked up to the counter and rang the service bell. There was no answer.
“Fuck,” Ronald said. “Where’s Jerome at?”
“Come on,” I said, going around the counter, walking into the back.
There was a huge storage space in the back, and it was filled to the brim with porn. I marveled at all of the shit I saw. It was like I had entered Kabukicho in Tokyo. I grabbed several items of interest, including a small rubber vagina, and put them in my pants pockets.
We rounded a corner. A big tittied blond stared at me with wide eyes, a gag ball in her mouth the only thing keeping her from screaming. She was handcuffed to a black bench that looked oddly like a weightlifting bench, except for the foot long piece of spiraling metal shaped like a carrot behind her.
A door opened on the side and Jerome jumped out, nude and covered in something slick and shiny like baby oil.
“What the fuck, Mama?” he said.
I pointed the gun on him.
/> “Don’t try anything stupid,” I said. “I just want some answers.”
“Whoa, now,” Jerome said. “Just calm down. Everything is going to be okay. He inched his way to the bench. Let me just turn this vibrator off before Candy gets electrocuted.” He reached behind the weight machine or whatever in the fuck it was.
He pulled out a double-barreled shot gun, pumped a shell, and blew off three of Ronald’s fingers. Ronald dropped the pistol.
“Fuck!” Ronald screamed, wrapping his hand in his shirt. He ran as fast as he could, and I followed suit, the sound of another shotgun blast filling the air. We ran back into the main store area and out the front door, jumping in the car and peeling rubber out of the parking lot. I rushed for a hospital, following blue signs until I found one about five miles down the road.
Ron spilled out of the car. I helped him up and he limped along beside me as I guided him to the front entrance of the ER.
“Listen to me, Handy,” Ronald said. “Take my phone out of my pocket and dial Sugar for me.”
I did as he asked, heard the ringing and put it up to his face.
“Hey, baby girl,” Ron said. “I got a party for you at a place called Sell Your Booty Pawn & Loan. I want you down there within the hour. Tell the guy there; his name is Jerome, tell him Mal sent you. Don’t mention money. I’ll pay you next time I see you. All right? Okay. Love you too, baby.”
I put the phone back in his pocket. “What the hell?” I said.
“We need a distraction,” Ron said. “You have to go back and find a snuff film or something, okay? We have to have something as leverage or we’ll never see Jerome or Mal again. Trust me, cuz. They’ll disappear like ghosts now that they know we’re on to them.”
“I need to stay here with you,” I said.
“Don’t be sentimental, bitch. I’m fine. They’ll stop the bleeding, probably give me someone else’s blood, and that will be that. You go get some leverage, man. Come see me in the morning and we’ll go eat breakfast at the hospital cafeteria or something.”
“Sure,” I said.
“Oh yeah, Handy?”
“Yeah?”
“Be careful, cuz.”
Chapter 14
Sugar was a prime looking piece of ass. She was about five feet nothing and had a Cuban booty. You know the kind, the onion shape, the one that brings a grown ass man to tears. She was Italian and some kind of Latina, probably Cuban, and my god, I would probably burn my mother with lit cigarettes just for her to let me touch them titties of hers, but I couldn’t do anything. Aside from being broke as a fuck, I had some work to do. While I waited for her to get to the pawnshop, I checked around back and looked into the windows and saw the back office; it was a fucking mess. There were shelves and shelves of junk lined against all the walls. Piles of books, magazines, newspapers were strewn about. Most of the other crap back there looked like mostly broken shit, bottles, car parts, you name it. There was also a safe. And it was opened. I would have to try to get back there and investigate while Sugar was doing the distracting. Fuck, I was looking forward to the show actually, but I couldn’t even think that way. This cocksucker shot off my cousin’s fingers, man, and that shit didn’t sit well with me.
I tried all the back windows, and none of them would open. Aside from the one overlooking the office, there was one that was all dark. Though I could see that it was some sort of studio, there was a camera and some light stands with those umbrella things nearby as well as a bed, dead center in the room like a the stage. Mmm, I’d love to make a movie with Sugar. I saw the limo pull up. All my boy’s girls arrive in style; I tried to act all suave and shit and called her over.
“Who you supposed to be, hiding in the corner, the big fat wolf?”
“No darlin, I’m Ronald’s cousin. That prick inside you’re about to fuck hurt him tonight; he’s getting stitched up at the ER.”
Sugar looked confused. “You want me to fuck this guy?”
“As a destraction, baby. I need you to keep his ass busy while I search for something.”
“Ronald’s gonna be all right? Right?”
“Yeah, but he ain’t gonna be fingering you if you know what I mean.”
She looked confused, so I figured fuck it, and just stuck to the plan. “Well, the guy inside, you need to distract him while I go through the office.”
“Want me to bite his dick off? I can get about seven or eight inches down my throat without gagging, I can rip that sucker clean off.”
Goddamn, I think I soiled my pants just thinking about her and her mouth around my joint, too bad there’d be room to spare.
“Well, tubby?”
I shook my head and cleared the image from my mind.
“What was that darlin?”
“I said should I bite his junk off or what?”
“Just show him a good time, and make it last awhile. If that was me, I’d probably only last ten seconds. I’ll give you a signal when I’m done searching and then you can do something to hurt him enough so he won’t chase us. He’s got a shotgun under the counter.”
She nodded, and I couldn’t help but stare at those bright red lips and imagine them wrapped around my—
She smacked me in the face. “You listening to me, tubby?”
“Sorry baby, I was thinking.”
She held up her hand in front of my face. “Whatever.”
She took out a tissue and took some gum from her mouth and put it in the tissue and wadded it up. “Look, I’m a pro, I go in there, tell him I got a call from someone named Mal, he paid me to show this Jerome guy a good time. I keep him busy, as in keep him from shooting his spunk down my throat or on my back or in my crack, or whatever rocks his fucking world. You get whatever the fuck it is you are looking for and don’t fuck anything up. I may just feel like biting his dick off, and give it to Ronald as a souvenir. Now go, get ready, do whatever it is you need to do, and let me handle shit.”
Sugar sauntered off, and I watched her ass as it moved slowly away. Hell, forget what I said before, I would burn my Granny with a cigar for a peek under that skirt.
That fucking “Kentucky Rain” ring when she walked in annoyed me, and then I remembered fuck, how am I going to get in without that shit playing. Then I figured something out, she went to the counter and I saw her work her magic, I wish I could have heard what they were saying inside but it didn’t take long for her to have him under her spell. When he was being occupied with her titties in his face, I ran by and opened the door, and ran back away, the song kicked in. I saw them both look toward the door. Then I thought, fuck, he reached under the counter and locked the door, so much for him just shutting that stupid thing off. I had to find another way inside. It was a one story building so I could get to the roof easy enough, well, physical activity other than getting busy with the ladies isn’t exactly what I look forward to but it had to be done. I went back and noticed the steel ladder that reached up was a good six feet off the ground but luckily there was a dumpster nearby.
I pushed the dumpster over to the wall just where I needed it and hefted myself up onto the rubberized top of the dumpster. The Dollar Inn has two of these and they are sturdy as a fuck, so I figured I had no problem with it holding me. I stood up on the top and was about to grab onto the last rung of the ladder when the top of the dumpster collapsed, and I fell into it. I guess I never stood on the ones at the Dollar Inn either so I was surprised when it wouldn’t hold my weight and I fell in to the dumpster with all the rotting food and from the Chinese restaurant. I hope I didn’t find any cat carcasses. God, it was disgusting, sweet and sour sauce covered shit floating around in what smelled like fish and ass juice. Fuck, I was covered in it. I wiped my face off so I could see and tried to dry my hands on my pants as best I could and hoisted myself up and stood on the rim of the dumpster and slid back in. My pants rode down a bit and something slimy stuck to the crack of my ass. It was disgusting, I grabbed at my ass to try to get it out and it just went deeper into the crack a
nd it was disgusting as hell, I decided I was making matters worse and should just get the fuck out of this dumpster and get to the task at hand. Not that it was going to be a cakewalk, more like a shit walk. Though strangely enough I was in the mood for some Chinese food at that moment.
On the third try I made it and got onto the last rung and I tried pulling myself up, it felt as though my arms where gonna rip out of their sockets and I was scraping my feet against the brick of the building to find some support, eventually I pulled myself up a rung, then got my knee on a rung and then my leg fell through the rung and I whacked my ball bag against the bar and almost fell off again into the dumpster, but I held on, I would have to ice my babies later and make sure there was no permanent damage. I started up again and eventually I made it to the roof.
After sitting down, I had to catch my breath for a few minutes and I eventually just crawled over to the hatch on the middle of the roof and for some reason, maybe I was owed some sort of Karma or something because the fucker was opened. I put my hands together and praised God, Allah, or whoever the fuck was looking out for me and opened it wide and climbed down. There were no stairs just a sheer drop of about ten feet. Fuck you very much. I was trying to feel down and around the sides to see if there was a ladder or something when I got too much of my belly forward and it upset the delicate balance, or rather my delicate balance and I fell forward.
I landed on my back, fuck, I thought I was paralyzed the shit hurt so bad. I heard a loud beating and wondered where it was coming from then realized it was my heart. I could hear it beating out of my chest. I just laid there and calmed my self down so I could adjust to the darkness and the silence. After a short while I listened and tried to be very quiet and I heard voices.
“I need to go check that noise out, Sugar”
“You don’t need to do shit except keep licking, motherfucker, Sugar doesn’t like guys who eat and run.”
“Yeah, you’re right and your shit do taste like sweet butter.” Then in his Elvis voice, Jerome said, “thank you baby, thank ya very much. Uh huh.”
When I heard slurping noises I knew I was safe. I managed to get up and crawl forward. I was in some sort of vent or walkway. I looked down through a grating and saw part of the main store area, I crawled a few more feet and eventually saw down into the office. I tried to push the vent away but it wouldn’t budge, I turned myself around and kicked at it and it burst off like I saw a ping pong ball once burst out of this girl’s cootch. The vent must have flown ten or more feet but landed on a pile of magazines and garbage and made no noise. I then had only a few feet to fall to some shelving and got out of the wall with ease, until the shelving started to come out of the wall, I hugged it for all I was worth and it toppled down, right on top of me. Pinning me to the ground I thought to myself, I was going to die right here on the dirty littered back room floor surrounded by the cast off crap no one wanted, discovered by a porn making black Elvis wannabe. Then I remembered why I was here in the first place. Claire.
