Play Sexy For Me (Handy Mann Chronicles Book 1)

by Jimmy Pudge

  “Get the fuck away from me you freak.” He looked wildly around the room. “Aw shit, cuz, he got to you too. Damn, I was hoping you’d come in with the cavalry.”

  “Nope, no such luck for you CUZ,” Mal said. He whacked the cigarette cutter thing that was on Ronald’s finger with a mallet and it guillotined the finger right off. It just flopped down, like it was never even attached in the first place. Ronald screamed. The blood shot out in spurts and he thrashed wildly in the chair screaming from the pain.

  “Go ahead, it’s all right, no one can hear you so feel free to be as loud as you need be.”

  Mal walked over to some shelves and pulled down a mini blow torch and lit it. The blue flame glowed menacingly as he walked toward me with it. He waved it at me and thrust it toward my eyes. I flinched away each time and tried not to get burned. He laughed and walked over to Ronald and moved the torch down to the freshly cut stump and burned it. Ronald passed out then from the pain, I knew Mal was cauterizing the wound so Ronald wouldn’t bleed to death, but at that moment I think it would have been more humane to just put a bullet into my cousin.

  I shut my eyes tight, pinching back tears. Tears of anger, or hurt, of fear broke through, regardless of how hard I tried to staunch their tide but it was useless. I sobbed like a little fucking baby. Mal, being the sensitive and caring man he was, came over to me and looked in to my face.

  “Wahhhhhh!!! Wahhhhh!!! You fucking crybaby.” He smacked me in the back of the head. “Your cousin has a few more fingers, ten toes, and some other appendages that I can cut off and cauterize. Now that you know, and that you have gained the empirical knowledge by seeing what I will do, you know how serious I am about getting back what is mine.”

  “I’ll get it man, got to give me some time,” I grunted through clenched teeth.

  “Fair enough,” he said. “I will give you three hours from when I drop you off, and then I begin my surgical residency on your cousin. Every hour he will lose something else. So please be mindful of the time. Tick tock. Oh, don’t bother looking for that burner phone, I smashed it, best get yourself a watch Handy.”

  He put a dirty and smelly canvas bag over my head and held a gun of some kind to my head. He un-tethered me and marched me out of wherever it was I was being held, and tossed me into the trunk. “Hey man, what the fuck?”

  “Just be thankful I didn’t give you another whack on the head. Usually I worry about causing some long term brain damage, but it appears in your case Handy, I was too late, be quiet or I will shoot you through the trunk.”

  He slammed the door and I heard his footsteps as he walked toward the front of the car, the door slammed and the engine started. Soon we were on the move. I tried to gauge how far we drove by counting but all the bumps kept knocking me around and screwed up my equilibrium and I lost count too many times to mention, so I just said fuck it and hoped I would get help in time to save my cousin and if I could, I would kill this bastard myself.

  We drove from anywhere from ten to twenty minutes but I couldn’t be sure. He had to take the bumpiest and most uneven set of roads in all of Georgia, my stomach felt like a milkshake in a blender, good thing I had no food in it or otherwise I would have spewed. In an attempt to take my mind of my stomach I kept playing the events of the last few days over and over in my mind. I knew there were many places I fucked up, but I knew I fucked up and how and why, and knew if I had to do it over again, I would think harder and get it done right. What sucks is life doesn’t give you do overs all too often and I was praying for just one.

  Soon, the car was shaking rough like and I knew he had to have pulled off of a main road somewhere, and sure enough the car was put into park and he got open and walked back and opened the trunk. Suddenly I was blessed with a blast of cool air and though my body was drinking it I was still gasping for air under the canvas bag. He pulled me out and let me fall to the ground. “Ouch man, what the fuck?”

  He kicked me in the gut for good measure and I gaged, and puked into the bag. I hoped to god I wouldn’t asphyxiate like that guy from ACDC back in the day. But he pulled the shit off my head. I still had some shit on my face and chin and he didn’t help me clean it off.

  “Handy, you are a disgusting specimen.”

  “Me? You killed Claire and those other women in those fucking movies and I am the disgusting one?”

  He stood straight up and smiled. He had a crooked smile and I just wanted to kick him in the dick so hard and often that he would bleed out of his asshole.

  “Claire, you are sore at me for Claire? If you only knew. Now get yourself into town, the interstate isn’t too far, I am sure a charming devil such as yourself wont have too hard of a time hitching a ride, and get my stuff Handy. I put a card in your back pocket with a cell number and a couple of quarters so you can call me. Get started there are about two and a half hours left before I start cutting, and it wont be pretty.:

  He slapped my cheek as you would a friend, and pinched it. Then looked at his hand and wiped it on my shoulder, both sides of it and looked at me with that disgusted look again. He stood up and walked back to the car and pulled away. The tires kicking up gravel onto my body as he pulled away. I struggled to get up, but it was a bitch because I had my hands tied behind me, fortunately it was rope and not one of those plastic zip tie jammies they use in the movies. I slide on my ass toward a tree and tried to scratch at the ropes and I succeeded in ripping a few threads and some skin. I found a big rock and laid on it and did the same thing and I managed to get a knot loose and get my hands free. I am not sure how long it took but it seemed like forever. I lifted up my shirt and wiped my face and belched, I had a nasty, sour taste in my mouth. It was nasty as the smell on my clothes and shirt.

  I was bleeding but not too badly and I hobbled a few steps and could see what looked like Highway 42 that would take me back to Forsyth. If I was on the South side of the highway, or it could have been 53, I wasn’t sure, but I kept walking and soon enough I was walking along the highway with my thumb out, I probably would have had more luck getting a ride if I left it up my ass where it belonged. People are some mean sumbitches. One guy stopped his pick up a few feet from me, and I ran to get to the door, he pulled up. I ran again, and he pulled up again. One time I grabbed the handle of the door and he pulled away again and I fell flat on my face. Fucking bastard. I felt like Charlie Brown when Lucy fucks with him with the football. I got up, dusted my self off, not that at this point it would make any difference in my appearance. I probably looked like a hunnerd pounds of shit in a fifty pound bag by now.

  I must have walked at least three miles until I got to an exit and walked off of the highway and checked my pockets. I had a bunch of quarters and the card Mal gave me. I went into a Waffle House and thought about getting at least a coffee to go, but I knew I wouldn’t have enough money, so I hobbled over to the pay phone next to the jukebox. The jukeboxes are cool, they play Waffle House themed music and the song “Waffle House For You and Me” was playing. I felt like dancing hearing that and being safe, for the moment anyway. But I couldn’t take time to enjoy the music of the sights and smells of a familiar and much loved chain restaurant. I dropped a couple of quarters into the payphone and made a call.

  The first call I made was to the Dollar Inn. I cut in as soon as Marica began to speak.

  “Hey Darlin, anyone come by for me?”

  “Damn, Handy, where you at? The boss is pissed, someone trashed that room that that girl got killed in, and the cops were here and that mean looking asshole came in here too demanding we tell him where you live. But he was run off when the cops showed up. Damn you in trouble.”

  “I know I know. Trying to get out of it now. Anything else? Any calls? Anything?”

  “Yeah, I left you a message, a few in fact, I suppose you don’t even have that phone anymore?”

  “Nope, got taken.”

  “Well some old guy in a wrinkled ass raincoat came by looking for you. Said that he felt bad for taking all your
bread and said he had some important information, that the guy you was looking for had some mob ties, and was into some heavy duty shit and you should back off.”

  I rolled my eyes. Nice to be warned about shit huh?

  “He say anything else, Marcia?”

  “He said to call him up and he would go into details but that was it.”

  “Thanks and stay safe girl. If that guy Mal comes back—“

  “Don’t worry about me Handy, I take Tae-Boe, that Billy Blanks is one hot mother fucker, and I can decapacitate a man in a cinch.”

  “Damn girl, sounds sexy.”

  “Fuck you Handy.”

  I chuckled.

  “And Handy?”

  “Yeah girl?”

  “Be careful.”

  She clicked off and I felt in my pocket for some more change. I saw a family leaving a table. The doable wife and three obnoxious kids left as the father counted out some money he threw a five and some singles down on the table for a tip, which is really good cause you can get a good meal for that at the WH. When he walked away I took a step over to the table and surreptitiously took the tip. Fuck them I needed the money more right now, and the service probably wasn’t that good anyway. After I pocketed the dough I called Fairfax at the police station.

  It took a couple of minutes to get through to him and I had to feed in my last two quarters while waiting for him to get on the phone. Another minute or so and I would have to cash in one of my purloined dollars to stay on the phone but as I was debating spending my new found funds on the call I heard him clearing his throat just before he announced himself.

  “Fairfax.”

  “Hey, look, it’s me, Handy, I don’t have time to really talk. Mal got me, and he has my cousin, he wants his shit back or he’ll kill him. I dumped me on the side of the road. I am at the Waffle House in Forsyth, the one on the other end of College Drive. Can you come get me?”

  He sighed heavily.

  “Damn, we told you to back off and that we would handle it. Okay, give me a few minutes. I’ll send Stegman.”

  “Can’t you come and get me? Stegman gives me the creeps.”

  “Steg? He’s a teddy bear.”

  “Yeah, a teddy bear with roid rage.”

  Chapter 17

  “Say, pal, let me get a cigarette,” I said as the man walked inside the Waffle House.

  I was standing by the entrance, about to burst from the pork chop dinner I had feasted on.

  The man handed me a smoke. “You know you’re bleeding?” he said.

  “Yeah, I fell down some steps. Got a light?”

  He lit the cigarette and hurried inside. I took a drag, thinking about my poor cousin sitting all by himself in that chair with no fingers. Jesus, he’d never jack it again.

  The night was fairly cool, alive with sounds of honking horns and red taillights that swished by like ghosts.

  I took another drag, exhaling blue smoke, trying to do a smoke ring, when the unmarked car pulled up. I examined the occupants closely as they got out. They should call that car the dick mobile.

  “Well, Handy,” Fairfax, said, shaking his head. “Sounds like you really fucked up this time.”

  “I’ll fuck you up,” Stegman said, grabbing Handy’s cigarette from his mouth and tossing it into the parking lot. “I don’t like smoke. I’m allergic to it.”

  “I’m allergic to you,” I said. I’d had enough of this dick’s shit. Mal was going to kill me anyway, might as well let Stegman beat him to it.

  “Break it up, numbskulls,” Fairfax said, jumping between us. “Come on, Handy, we’re starving, let’s head inside. You can tell us about the situation over some waffles.”

  I shook my head. “Man, I just got done eating. I’m not going back in there. The waitress will think I’m fat or something.”

  “You are fat,” Stegman said. “Get a sweet tea or a piece of pie or something.”

  “Whatever,” I said, entering the building. We took a seat in a booth in the rear so the two detectives could have a visual on the front door.

  “You’re in our line of work,” Fairfax said, “you always sit where you can see the doors. You never know who’s going to bust in on you.” He took a huge bite of waffle, chewed thoughtfully, then said, “tell me what’s going on.”

  Handy told the detectives about the abduction in the Dollar Inn parking lot. About waking up with a pounding in his skull like he’d been dropped off a building. The men nodded, listening carefully. Fairfax started making notes.

  “So, he just dropped you off on the side of the highway?”

  “Yeah,” Handy said.

  “Probably figured you were shit scum like him,” Stegman said. “Probably never crossed his mind that a fucking convict like you would turn pigeon.”

  “Did you look at that footage I gave you?” I asked, changing the subject.

  “We did,” Fairfax said. “It’s a nightmare.”

  “That psychopath has my cousin now,” Handy said. “If I don’t give him his footage back, he’ll kill him.”

  “Did you tell Mal you’d given the tape to us?”

  “No, I’m not stupid.”

  Fairfax nodded. “Hell, I reckon you didn’t tell him. You’d be dead now if you’d done that.”

  “I need you to get my cousin back,” Handy said.

  “What’s his name?” Stegman asked.

  “Ron,” I said. “Ronald Briggs.”

  “The pimp?” Stegman said. “Shit, let that motherfucker die.”

  “Have a heart, you cold blooded bastard,” Fairfax said. “I tell you what, Handy. You’re gonna call Mal and arrange a swap. Your cousin for the snuff film he wants. We’ll surround the area, wherever it may be, and take the fuck down.”

  “Isn’t that risky?” I asked. “Won’t he kill Ron when he finds out?”

  “Shit no,” Fairfax said. “A man like Mal, he’d never do something like that. If he did he knows we’d light his ass up. Mal would rather be in prison than full of holes on the ground. Guaranteed.”

  I didn’t believe a word of it. Mal would kill Ron. But honestly, what other choice was there?

  Fairfax pulled out his phone, called the station and waited on the line. Finally, his lieutenant picked up and Fairfax briefed him on the situation. “Think I can have at least five guys for the takedown?”

  Fairfax nodded his head. “Three is good too. When will they be available? Okay. Okay, bye.”

  Fairfax put his phone away. “We can do this anytime before this weekend, Handy. Go ahead and call him. The sooner you set up a swap the better.”

  Handy pulled out his cell phone, dialed the number on the card Mal had given him.

  “Who is this?” came a cold voice.

  “Handy,” Handy said. “I’ve got your footage. I want to do a trade.”

  Silence.

  “You there?” Handy asked.

  “Where?” Mal said.

  “I don’t know,” I said. “The Waffle House in ten minutes?”

  Fairfax leaned over and slapped Handy on the top of the head. “We need time to gather backup,” he whispered.

  “Fuck that,” Mal said. “I’m already undressed. Waffle House in ten is no good. What about tomorrow night? There’s a town called Juliet, you been there before?”

  “Sure.”

  “Good. There’s a cabin, adjacent to the train tracks running through town. Meet me at that cabin. Tomorrow night, 11 p.m.”

  “OK,” I said.

  The phone went dead. I put it in my pocket, rubbed my hands together.

  “What did he say?” Fairfax asked.

  “He wants to meet tomorrow night, at 11, at an old cabin in Juliett.”

  Fairfax scribbled the information down. “Alright, then. Let’s meet tomorrow for lunch, Handy, then we’ll get ready for the swap. It’s getting kind of late. Let’s call it a night.”

  Handy and the detectives stood up, Fairfax leaving a two dollar tip on the table.

  Handy watched t
he two men walk off and turned to pocket the money. He felt a slap on the back of his head.

  “Put it down,” Stegman said.

  #

  There was the smell of blood all around me. I could see it, thick red drops falling from the ceiling, hitting the floor and splattering. I was tied to a chair. Fingers were on the floor, slithering around like snakes in the blood. Mal was sitting across from me, looking me in the eyes.

  “I’m going to eat your soul,” Mal said…

  I opened my eyes, the knocking on the door piercing through my clouded mind. The knocking stopped and I lay back down. Then it reappeared, sharp blasts like someone wanted to tear my trailer door down.

  I got up out of my futon and made my way across the dirty hallway to the nasty living room. The carpet was once beige, but now it was a slimy gray. I opened the front door and Groefield smiled at me from the deck.

  “Handy,” he said.

  “Fuck off,” I said.

  “Listen, I’m sorry I didn’t help you anymore. I felt really bad about that. I looked into things, Handy.”

  “Yeah? Well so did I.”

  “Did you know Mal is in the illegal porn industry?” Groefield said.

  “How much is this information going to cost me Groefield. Because if it isn’t free, then it’s too expensive for me.”

  “This is free,” Groefield said. “I feel bad, man.”

  “I already know about the porn business,” I said.

  “Oh,” Groefield said. “You hire another detective?”

  “Yeah,” I said. “Myself.”

  “Well, listen Handy. I’m sorry for being such an asshole. I’ve got what people might call a drinking problem of sorts. You caught me at a bad time. I was off the wagon, so to speak. I’m back on it now. I’m ready to roll now.”

  “Well, roll your ass off my porch then,” I said.

  Groefield smiled. “You’re a real asshole, kid. Remind me of myself. Here, take this.” Groefield reached into his pants pocket and pulled out a small blue booklet. “Here’s that girl’s passport you gave to me.”