by Jamie Lake
“He was a pain,” Tony said. “I’d do that to anybody who got in your way. You know. I’d fuck them up just like I fucked up Anton. Now that you see the error in your ways, I can get rid of the cop too, if you want. Bury him in the desert just like we did Anton.” The way he said it was just so casual. As if he was talking about taking out the trash. It immediately infuriated Peter. The very idea of Chip and Johnny getting hurt enraged him. He wished he could turn around and strangle Tony.
Peter swallowed hard, knowing Tony wasn’t joking and he hoped they’d be able to pick up what he was saying so all of this wouldn’t be in vain, “What do you mean?” He kept his tone light and innocent.
“You’re a smart man, Petey. Figure it out.”
“Maybe I'm just … I don’t know, woozy from what you mean but I don’t … can you explain?”
Tony sat up looking at Peter suspiciously. “What is this?” He sneered, his lip curling over his teeth. His eyes narrowed dangerously and he looked as though his patience with all of Peter’s probing questions had swiftly reached the end of the rope.
“What do you mean, ‘what is this?’ ” Peter said, his voice going up an octave. Try as he might not to act nervous, he started to tremble and his mouth went dry.
Tony stood up. “You’re acting funny. I don’t like it.”
“How am I acting funny?” Peter asked, sitting up too.
“I’ve been around a long time, Petey. A long time and I know when I’m being set up. Where is it?” Tony said, pacing back and forth, looking under his files, his hand reaching under his desk.
“Where is what, Tony?” Peter said.
“The wire. The cops convince you to do this, huh?” Tony said, looking through Peter’s clothes.
“The cops? Wire? Tony, I don’t know what you’re-” Peter started to say until Tony rummaged through his pockets.
“Thought I paid these cop fuckers enough to keep them off my trail. Can’t pay enough nowadays to keep cops on your bankroll. I know it’s here, Petey and when I find it. Here it is ...” Tony said, pulling out the little bug device that Chip had hidden in his pants pocket. He held it up between thumb and forefinger, his face turning an ugly shade of furious red.
Peter stood up, “Tony, I can explain.” His heart thudded painfully against his breastbone and he shook so hard his teeth clattered together. This was it, he thought in a panic. This was how he was going to die. Tony was going to kill him. There was no amount of begging or pleading that was going to save him now. His body tensed, ready to fight. Ready to run. But he knew deep down there was no escape.
Tony crushed it between his fingers then dropped it and smashed it with his foot. “You little fucker. I thought you loved me. I thought you were really sincere, huh? I thought you were a good guy and you do this to me? Huh? I bring my son in here, hoping that’ll please you too and this is how you repay me?”
“Tony, just calm down,” Peter said, trying to muster up the strength to face him.
“Fuck you, you little fucker. When they find you, you’ll be nothing but crushed bones out in the middle of the desert.” He looped his tongue around his lips as though the very idea of hurting him, killing him, pleased Tony. His big hands curled into fists and his face was a mask of red, red rage.
Peter’s heart raced but he wasn’t about to mouse out. He hoped that Chip was picking up on all this and that he’d send for help but he couldn’t see how that was possible. As far as he knew, it’d be just him and Tony alone. It was a possibility he’d considered when he’d agreed to this. It was a way to set things right. There was no way he could back down now. It was too late. He also had no way of knowing whether help was coming or not. It was just him. He had to rely on himself. And that felt pretty good.
“You know ever since I met you, you’ve done nothing but threaten, manipulate and treat me like shit.” Peter shook his head sadly. Sometimes, especially right now, he wondered how things would have been had Tony just treated him right. Would they still be together? Probably, Peter thought but now he had zero interest in him. Chip was all the man he needed and more.
“Shut up!” Tony said.
“No, Tony, you shut up. I will not be pushed around by you again, it’s not going to happen. You hear me? I won’t be treated like shit. You threatened me, you threatened the man I love, the boy that is going to be my son, you killed someone who was very close to me and I gave in to your every whim. You encourage me to sell my soul out to the devil but no more, Tony, no more. I may die, you might kill me and maybe they will find nothing left of me but crushed bones but I won’t go down without a fight.”
“You want a fight, you stupid little shit? Then, you’ll get one!” Tony roared as he lurched towards Peter.
He swung a heavy fist in a clumsy arc at Peter’s face. It was still too fast and caught him on the chin. It rung his bell and Peter saw stars, his vision dotted with little electric blue sparks. Blood filled Peter’s mouth.
Must’ve bit my tongue, he thought, managing to spin away from another blow to his face.
Peter scrambled away from Tony. He couldn’t win a fight on strength alone. He’d have to be smarter, faster. There was a brass lamp, one of those beautiful Tiffany lamps, on Tony’s desk. Snagging it, Peter swung it at Tony’s face.
There was a crunch as glass and lead and copper met skin and bone. Tony howled in pain, staggering back. Blood leaked from his nose and mouth and he shook his head as if to clear it. The lamp clattered to the floor, shattering, sending colorful glass shards all over the place. Tony howled in fury and charged at Peter. He hit him with a haymaker and knocked them both to the ground. They tussled, rolling. He tried to hit Tony, pounding his fists on his arms and back, but Tony seemed to be immune. He tried to get out from under him, but it was no good, Tony had him pinned. Rearing back a fist, Tony slammed it into Peter’s eye. Stunned, Peter reeled in pain.
When Peter came to Tony, he had him by the throat squeezing the life out him with one hand, his other fist poised and ready to knock Peter out. “You better say your prayers, Petey.”
“My name is not Petey, mother fucker. It’s Peter!” Peter said giving him one last kick in the gut. It was enough to shake him loose but as Tony started to rush toward him, his clutched his heart and groaned, dropping to his knees. His desperate eyes looked at Peter with a mix of anger and desperation.
Peter knew immediately he was having a heart attack. Tony gasped for breath, making out his last words.
“I … loved … you,” Tony said.
“You don’t know what love is,” Peter spat.
It was a strange thing watching a man die. Peter would later wonder if there had been anything he could have done to save him. He didn’t let him die out of spite, but out of fear. He knew that Tony would never leave him and Chip alone. Tony was a killer, a dangerous, sadistic man. Still, Peter thought, he just felt so sorry for Tony. Watching him fall to the floor and give his last gasps.
He quit struggling and then Tony collapsed, every last bit of his strength depleted and Peter knew he was dead. Chip and two other officers rushed in, their guns armed and ready.
“You alright?” Chip asked, rushing to Peter’s aid, his gun pointed at Tony on the floor.
“He’s gone,” Peter said. “Dead and gone.” He just stared. His right eye was nearly swollen shut and his tongue was sore, but otherwise, he was all right. He couldn’t get over the fact, however, that Tony would never be all right again. He couldn’t believe that the man was just lying on the floor, dead, and it was, like everything else, his fault. Peter lowered his gaze, unable to even look at Tony’s body.
The officer bent and checked his pulse then put their guns back in their holsters. Chip shook his head, maybe feeling the same way Peter did. Or feeling sorry for him in general. Peter knew that Tony was a bad man and that he deserved to die, but it didn’t really make Peter feel any better.
What if Tony had, in his own way, really loved him? Is this how he repaid it? Was he a murderer no
w? Peter took in a ragged breath and stood close to Chip. He really needed him right now. Now, more than ever. He felt like he was going to be sick, his head swimming, his brain foggy. His mouth was sticky and dry.
Then, a horrible thought occurred to him. Tony’s son was still alive. Tony’s son wasn’t likely going to take the death of his father well. Would Junior come after him next? What could he tell Chip? Chip had surely heard what had taken place over the wire. He had to know that he’d just slept with Tony, Sergio and Junior. His brain was too noisy. He couldn’t think straight.
Chip pulled Peter closer. “We tried to get here as soon as we could.” He sounded so apologetic and Peter didn’t want to admit how much he’d pleasure he’d taken from that foursome. It was hard to think about now, especially with Tony lying dead on the floor, his vibrant blue eyes dull, open and staring straight forward. The medical examiner was on her way, he heard it over the police radio. He really wanted to get out of here.
“I know. It’s fine. He won’t be bothering us again, not again,” Peter said.
Chip kissed him on the forehead and Peter couldn’t help but let a tear roll down his cheek. It was as if all that he’d been through had finally come to an end. All the pain, all the suffering, all the torture. He’d stood up to his tormentor and though he felt vindicated, there was a part of him that felt saddened.
In another life, Tony could have been a good guy, a lover or even a good friend. Tony was just a painful memory, a lesson hard learned. Peter wouldn’t lie to himself and say he’d never cared for Tony. That just wasn’t true. But it wasn’t true love. It wasn’t fate or destiny or kismet like it was with Chip. Tony hadn’t been his soulmate. And besides, you don’t treat someone like that if you wanted to keep them around.
Chip never did him like that. He wasn’t controlling or a psycho. He loved Chip. So nothing else mattered. He had his family and soon a home. He could picture Johnny ten years older, calling him
He took Chip’s hand in his and brought it up to his face. He kissed the knuckles.
“I’m so lucky to have you,” Peter murmured. “You’re all I ever wanted.”
Chip smiled down on him fondly. He leaned in and kissed his forehead and it was meant to be soothing, sweet. And it was. It made Peter’s heart swell with love and affection. He supposed he’d never get over the tragedy that was Tony. He didn’t think he was supposed to, but he was bound and determined to have a beautiful, happy life with his fiance. His family.
But now, he had Chip, the one man he knew would never leave his side, no matter how much of a bad boy he was.
THE END
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