The Good Kill

by Kurt Brindley

  “He’s dead,” Killian said flatly.

  Diego felt as if he had been punched in the gut. “You knew? How?” He shifted in his chair again. “When I spoke to your doctor about it, she said you hadn’t been told.”

  “And it wasn’t an accident either,” Killian said.

  “Your father’s death? There was the fire. What do you mean it wasn’t an accident?”

  Killian ignored the question. “But you know what? That’s not why I’m fucked either, Father,” he said reverting back to his earlier point. He nodded absently toward his navy gear. “You see that seabag over there and all that shit packed in that box? That’s why I’m fucked.”

  Diego couldn’t keep up. It seemed as if Killian was having conversations with multiple people. “Killian, please...”

  “All that shit over there is nothing but the relics of a life, a livelihood, now gone.”

  Diego sat back in his chair. He felt exasperated, overwhelmed. Perhaps he was too close to Killian. Perhaps someone else should be the one to help the troubled man process the information of his father’s death, to help him cope with his new reality. He closed his eyes for a moment and tried to clear his head. No. It had to be him. He couldn’t pass this responsibility off to someone else just because it pained him too much to see Killian in such a tormented state. He had to be there for his friend no matter how hard the process or how long it took. When he opened his eyes again, he asked, “Killian, can you help me understand why the things on the chair are causing you such distress?”

  Killian laughed sardonically. “Distress? You think all that shit on the chair is causing me distress? Is that what you think?”

  “I don’t know what to think, Killian. I’m trying to understand what’s troubling you, that’s all.”

  “You know what I understand now that I’m sure you don’t, Father, despite all your religious teachings?

  The shift yet again in the conversation’s direction made Diego’s head pound. He felt drained, weak. He rested his elbows on his knees and hung his head. “No, I don’t, Killian. Please tell me. What is it that I don’t understand and you do?”

  Killian rolled over onto his side and tucked himself up into the fetal position, this time facing away from Diego. He placed a pillow over his head and held it tightly in place with his right arm. With his voice sounding muffled and distant from beneath the pillow, he shouted, “Hell!”

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  Toni was sitting in the Fantasy Plus dressing room alone when the door opened and Jerome Savage strutted in with one of his dancers tight on his arm.

  “There’s my girl,” Savage said, his arms and smile spread wide. He was wearing a black Baltimore Ravens ball cap cocked to the side, a black and gray Under Armor half-zip pullover jacket with a Ravens logo, black sweatpants, and black Adidas Originals with purple stripes. He put his arm back around the dancer. “Toni, this is the one and only Cheri DaBom, Fantasy Plus’s main attraction. She has kindly agreed to help you learn her… art.” He looked at Cheri and winked as a hand strayed from the small of the dancer’s back down to her sufficient backside, a backside barely contained within a pair of white skinny jeans, and gave it a squeeze. Cheri let out a playful squeal and slid her hand down to Savage’s backside to give it a reciprocating squeeze of her own.

  Toni remained silent, distant, as if they weren’t even in the room with her.

  “Okay now,” Savage said seriously, “I want you two to, you know, spend a couple minutes getting to know each other and all that, then get your big beautiful booties out there on the stage and show me what you can do with them, all right?”

  “Oh, you know what I can do, Thug Killa,” Cheri said, eyeing Savage seductively.

  “Oh, you know I do, girl,” Savage said. “Now I want you to be real nice to our young miss thang here and school her proper, you feel me? Teach her to do that move you do that I like.”

  Cheri giggled. “You know ain’t no one can do you like Miss Cheri can, Killa.”

  Savage laughed lustfully and allowed his hands to roam freely over the tight, athletic body of his star performer before pulling himself away. He walked to the door and looked at his steel and gold, Cosmograph Daytona Rolex watch. “Okay, it’s now ten-thirty,” he said. “I’m gonna grab me some breakfast and then I want to see Toni on the stage by eleven showing me her stuff, you hear me? And I mean all her stuff.” He winked at the ladies and left the room.

  Cheri watched the door for a moment before turning toward Toni, who sat at the vanity desk staring at her own reflection in the trifold mirror.

  “So, like Hollywood said, my name is Cheri,” Cheri said as she looked in the mirror and gently patted her pink, tight afro into shape. She then smoothed out her pink lipstick with an index finger, careful of the press-on fingernails that curved out like long, pink claws. When Toni didn’t respond she began searching through her large, light-pink purse until she came up with a tube of lipstick. She carefully applied another pink layer on her full lips and then rubbed them together, spreading it evenly. She smiled at herself and then at Toni. Toni didn’t reciprocate the affection.

  Cheri pulled the chair from the adjacent vanity desk and sat down. She took Toni’s hands in hers and said, “Look, girlfriend, I’m not gonna try and get all Oprah on your ass, but you’re gonna have to snap out of whatever funk you’re in and work with me. You heard him, Hollywood’s given us a job to do and I’ll be damned if I’m gonna get that mother fucker pissed at me just because you decided you gonna sit here and feel sorry for yourself.”

  For the first time, Toni looked at Cheri.

  “Look, we all got our reasons for doing what we do,” Cheri said, softening. “I’m not looking to find out what yours are but what I do know is that Hollywood’s got an interest in you and when that man’s got an interest in someone, it can be either a good thing… or a very bad thing. So, what do you say we work together to make sure we keep him happy, okay?”

  Tears welled fast in the corner of Toni’s eyes and began running down her cheeks.

  Cheri pouted her pink lips and hugged Toni. “Oh girlfriend, don’t cry. You need to be putting a smile on the beautiful face of yours.” She pulled back from her hug. “And mama’s got just what you need.”

  After digging through her purse again, she pulled out a small glass vial and held it before Toni as if it were a birthday gift for a child. “Now looky what mama has here for us.” She sprinkled a power out from the vial into two lines on the desk. “Hollywood gave this to me. Said he wanted me to share it with you. Now tell me, isn’t that just the sweetest thing?” She unzipped her knockoff Coach Signature wallet and flipped through her bills until she found one crisp enough to do the job she had in mind for it. She rolled it up tight. “Time to take your happy medicine, sweet thing,” she said as she handed the makeshift straw to Toni.

  Toni took the rolled-up five-dollar bill and snorted both lines of the cocaine. The drug exploded into her bloodstream and sent its magic straight to her brain. Within seconds, she could feel her pain and sadness melt away from the bright, hot adrenaline and its accompanying joy that spread hot and delicious throughout her body. She pinched and wiped at her nose and then looked at Cheri with her beautiful, drug-induced smile.

  “Damn, girl. Look at you,” Cheri said, pleased with her role in Toni’s newfound happiness. “I guess our little miss thing here wants to play.” She shook out two more lines from the vial. “Well, guess what. Mama wants to play, too,” she said with a giggle. She took the rolled-up bill and snorted away one of the lines. “There it is. That’s what mama was looking for,” she said as she leaned her head back and closed her eyes reverently.

  Cheri handed the rolled-up bill back to Toni. “One more dip into happiness for our lovely Miss Toni, and then it’s time for us to get down to business and learn you how to turn that sexy ass of yours into a straight up money-making machine…”

  ✽ ✽ ✽

  Savage sat at Blackman’s desk watching the sec
urity feed from the dressing room of Toni and Cheri doing the cocaine that Savage had given them. Blackman walked in and set a Styrofoam carryout box down on the desk.

  Savage opened the box and began eating his breakfast. He nodded to the monitor showing Cheri and Toni practicing dance moves. “Looks like that coke did the trick,” he said.

  Blackman wheeled a chair next to his boss and sat down. He set his carryout box on his lap and began eating and watching. Cheri was behind Toni, close, her hands placed on Toni’s hips, moving her along in a slow grind.

  “Damn that’s hot,” Savage said with a mouthful of scrambled eggs. “Is she kissing on her neck?”

  Blackman didn’t answer, focusing instead on eliminating his thick stack of buttermilk pancakes.

  Cheri spun Toni around and stepped back, still swaying her hips to the beat of a music unheard by Savage or Blackman.

  “You know, Black, I’m beginning to have second thoughts about farming this bitch out,” Savage said. He nodded to the monitor. “Miss College Girl here turns me on in ways her freak sister never did.”

  Blackman looked at his boss. “That’s because she’s fresh. And you know how much more that makes her worth on the market. And you know that we need to get her sold and out of area before someone comes looking for her, just like she came looking for Ruby.” He stuffed another massive forkful of cakes into his mouth. “But, hey, until then, enjoy her while you can, you know.”

  “Oh, I am, believe me,” Savage said. “But you’re telling me shit I already know. What you’re not telling me is when that little hacker mother fucker you got on a leash… What the fuck you call him? Jed? Zed? Whatever the fuck it is. When is that geek mother fucker gonna get me the shit I’m looking for?”

  Blackman permitted himself an uncharacteristic chuckle. “His handle is Dread Onyx,” he said slowly, as if instructing a child. “But like most hackers, he spells it in a fucked up way: d-r-3-4-d-0-n-y-x.”

  Savage chuckled himself. “Dread mother fucking onyx. What the fuck kind of bullshit name is that.

  “More Millennial bullshit,” Blackman said. “The point is, it’s going to take him some time, Mr. Savage, to do the things we hired him to do. These dark web sites are built by some of the smartest black hat fuckers there are. And they’re built to evade the smartest and most sophisticated government white hat spooks. Our guy’s good but his specialty is online identity theft, not this shit we got him doing.”

  “Black hats, White hats. Dark mother fucking web. All this geek-ass shit means nothing to me,” Savage said while giving Blackman a look that said he was now serious. “All that does mother fucking matter to me is the god damn name of Ruby’s mother fucking buyer. You feeling me, Black? Because if that mother fucker was willing to pay as much as he did for Ruby, I’m damn sure he’ll pay a hell of a lot more for Ruby’s mother fucking twin sister, especially if he knows how fresh she’ll be coming in.”

  “We’ll find him for you, Mr. Savage,” Blackman said. “But you know, if we go outside the auction site directly to a buyer, there’s a possibility we could get banned from future sales if it’s discovered.”

  “Fuck that site. Probably some punk-ass Russian pervert running that thing out of his mama’s basement. I’m sure if you look hard enough, you’ll find at least a dozen more just like it.”

  “Well, these sites are hard to get access to. And I’m not so sure we’d be able to find another one with a clientele list like the one we’re on now.”

  “Shut the fuck up about it, Black, and just get me the shit I’m asking for.”

  Blackman chewed his food and nodded obediently.

  The men watched in silence as Cheri began to take her clothes off while swaying her body to a silent beat. She was speaking to Toni, seemingly instructing her to begin undressing.

  “We really need to get some audio pickups in there,” Savage said. “It’d make this little show here much more interesting.”

  When both ladies were down to their underwear and bras, Savage said, “Okay, let’s go out front. I want to watch the rest of this show live and in the flesh.”

  “So, you’re going to make her dance then? Earn for you until we can offload her?” Blackman asked as he held the door open for his boss.

  “Oh, hell yeah. Look at that bitch’s body. That ass is off the hook. Can’t pass up the cheddar that work of art will bring in for me,” Savage said as he walked out of the room.

  Blackman closed up the office and then followed Savage to the front of the club. “What about pulling tricks?” he asked as he fell in step behind Savage.

  “TBD, Black. TBD.”

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  The teal and gray, eight-seater, MD-902 helicopter with “Half Moon Island Resort” emblazoned in bright white letters on both its sides landed softly on the resort’s rooftop helipad. McKnight, hunched over, rushed out to the bird to open the hatch and lower the stairs. He made eye contact with the pilot, Sticks Dowdy, a former army Blackhawk pilot, and gave him a short nod of the head, which Sticks returned in kind. Ruby Black leaned out from the hatch and stood on the top step for a moment as she took in the spectacular beauty of the gulf. Her honey-brown skin glowed red and her roller set afro, bouncing playfully around her face from the helicopter’s prop wash, showed its amber highlights from the rays of a sun set halfway below the horizon.

  McKnight offered Ruby his hand. When she placed hers in his, his heart leapt from the shock that pulsed through his body from her warm, soft, electrifying touch. As she descended the steps, she looked down upon him and smiled. A second shockwave pulsed through his body, leaving him feeling slightly dizzy, giddy, like a hormone-wracked schoolboy. He was afraid he held onto her hand a bit too long when she reached the bottom of the steps. He reluctantly let her go and turned to wait for DeBlanc. She offered him another one of her bright, enslaving smiles as a way of thanks.

  Louis Alexander DeBlanc the Fourth popped his head out of the hatch. The stylish cut of his thinning, light brown hair was immediately blown amiss from the prop wash, giving his too long of face with its too small of eyes and too large of nose the look of a disheveled and misplaced low-level bureaucrat instead of that of a suave and manicured top-level executive, a look in which he invested much money and effort to try to maintain. He sped down the steps and gave McKnight a benevolent nod as he passed. Ruby, a head taller than the billionaire in her Casadei stiletto-heeled pumps, latched herself onto his arm and straightened his hair for him as together they walked to their private elevator where Henderson was standing by holding the door open for them. As the couple entered the elevator, DeBlanc gave Henderson the same nod he gave to McKnight, whereas his elegant consort gave him a generous offering of her heart-melting smile.

  After the door closed and the two men were alone on the roof, Henderson turned to McKnight with a wide grin and arched eyebrows, his head shaking in disbelief.

  “Stop,” McKnight ordered. “I know exactly what you’re going to say because you say the same damn thing every time you see her.”

  Henderson laughed. “Guilty as charged.” He slapped McKnight on the back. “But goddamn, Mack. She is a stone-cold fox, isn’t she? It just breaks my heart to know she’s going to waste on that little fucking troll.”

  McKnight looked up at the security camera as he held the door to the stairs open for his partner. As they hustled their way down the stairwell, their heavy, clamoring feet echoing loudly throughout, McKnight said, “It’s a goddamned good thing those security cameras don’t pick up audio, Happy, or both our asses would end up just as fucked as Lazlo’s, if not worse.”

  Henderson punched in the key code and, after the lock released, returned the courtesy by holding the door to the floor of the penthouse suite open for McKnight. As McKnight passed, Henderson said, “How the hell could anyone’s fate be worse than Lazlo’s?” He pulled the door shut and made sure it was secure before trotting down the short hall to catch up with McKnight.

  “Well, if anyone ever were to
find Lazlo, which they won’t I can assure you, they at least would find him all in one piece,” McKnight said as he pressed the service elevator’s down button, its only option. He looked at the security camera over the closed, gilded door directly across from the elevator as if to make sure it wasn’t listening in. In a hushed voice, he said, “If DeBlanc ever caught wind of all the shit you talk about him, I doubt he’d afford you the same courtesy he afforded Lazlo.”

  A bell rang and then the similarly gilded doors of the elevator slid open. McKnight stepped in. “I’ll be back to relieve you… Let’s see…” He checked his Timex Ironman Triathlon watch. “It’s 20:17, so I’ll be back up at 22:17 on the button. In the meantime, text me if you need anything or if the boss’s plans change.” The doors closed.

  Henderson stretched his back briefly and then took his position next to the door of DeBlanc’s penthouse suite, wishing it were him inside with Ruby Black instead of his rich, thin-armed boss.

  ✽ ✽ ✽

  Ruby Black walked up to DeBlanc as he shaved and hugged him from behind, her naked breasts pressed against his bare upper back, her brown hands, standing out against his white skin, began caressing his narrow, hairless chest. Their eyes met in the mirror.

  “How come you’re not taking me to Houston with you tomorrow, lover?” Ruby asked, her large, exotic eyes sad, her voice pouty.

  DeBlanc pulled up the end of his nose with his left thumb and concentrated as he shaved beneath it. When he moved on to easier terrain, he said, “Because I don’t want you to be bored having to wait around for me while I’m in my meeting with my father, that’s why.”

  She nibbled on his ear and then whispered into it. “I don’t mind being bored for you.”