All they knew was their father and the wooden box. When Armoni turned eight, Abe occasionally sat him in the corner of the room while he and his drunken conquest did their business, amid much slobbering and animal sounds. Sometimes, Abe knocked them around a bit before they got the message. Armoni knew well his father’s philosophy about forking out good money to pay a piggy’s booze tab without a payback. Didn’t matter if they agreed or not. They eventually came round. Armoni thought that the little piggies were the most fun to watch. Just a simple, unknowingly frightening observance from the funny-looking, unnoticed little boy in the corner, huddled and wild eyed, missing nothing. He felt a tug of sympathy for the young boy he had been, remembering being overwhelmed by the spiral of emotions confronting him as a boy and then later, as a teenager.
As Kelly grew older, Abe started to notice her. Armoni also noticed. When she turned thirteen, she displayed a shadow of the attractive young woman she would grow into. Armoni was seventeen. And stone-cold ugly. As of late, when they were locked up, things had changed in the wooden box. Armoni had started to look forward to it. He loved the way Kelly clung to him, softly weeping. He would stroke her budding breasts until she calmed down, kissing her hair, humming to her. His hands loved to explore, Kelly not understanding even when it was too late. She became his obsession. Until finally, he found himself sneaking into her bed at night to fondle her until she woke, then together they would finish the night with physical comfort of the most primal kind.
Until the fateful night Abe came home without a juicy piggy. Armoni and Kelly had not heard him enter. They were fully engrossed, giggles masking Abe’s footsteps. The bare bulb hanging over Kelly’s bed snapped on. Armoni felt strong fingers digging at his throat, swinging him back over the mussed bed to crash him, naked, against the bedroom wall, leaving a hollow bulge where his shoulders cratered the cheap sheetrock. He lay panting on the floor as his father looked down on Kelly, slowly unbuckling his pants.
“Don’t remember giving you permission ta touch something that belongs ta me, boy. Can’t say I blame you, though. With your looks, you ain’t ever gonna get yourself your own woman.” Disdain and contempt distorted Abe’s face as he taunted Armoni.
Kelly tried to slip off the bed, her nakedness inflaming Abe. Grabbing her by the hair, he dragged her back to the bed, pinned her down with his weight and slapped her across the face.
“You whore—lying with your own brother. Can’t help yourself, can you? Time for this juicy piggy to give her daddy a little payback.” He had fumbled with his navy workpants, sliding them to his ankles. Kicking them to the side, he had stood with his erection engorged and craving satisfaction, his dissipated face a tribute to greed and mad fervor. Plunging into his daughter, he had slapped her face again.
“Let’s see a little enthusiasm, piggy.”
Kelly had lain still, clearly in shock while her father raped her until he was satisfied. Suddenly, Armoni had plowed into him, knocking him off balance and allowing Kelly to twist out from under him and escape the room.
“You mongrel, after all I did for you.” Rubbing his arm and rising, he had shot Armoni a vicious look. “Time to teach the pups some lessons.” Raising his fist he had struck down violently, landing on Armoni’s nose, busting it, blood splattering them both.
Armoni had staggered back, his father pressing forward aggressively, then suddenly freezing. His eyes had flared briefly, valuable air with a spot of blood retching from his lungs over his curled lips as he turned in time to see Kelly, having yanked out the kitchen butcher knife she had gleefully stabbed him in the back with, plunge it into his heart. He had gone down hard.
The cover up had proved easy. Armoni had taken the blame. They had wiped the knife handle clean, replacing it with Armoni’s prints. Their father’s semen, extracted after Kelly’s exam at the hospital, along with signs of sexual activity at a very young age, had helped bolster their claims of incest and rape. Armoni’s broken nose and his blood on his father’s fist had made the story believable. They had never told the authorities about the wooden box in the basement. The whole town had already known what a lousy father Abe was anyway. The brief investigation had exonerated both of them of all responsibility.
Kelly might have become slice and dice happy as she matured, but it had never caused them any trouble as they strove to duplicate the high they had experienced together the night they had killed their father. He truly enjoyed watching a babe who enjoyed her job. Yeah, he sure missed his sister; no one to share his conquests with now. She was one of a kind. Doubtful he’d ever run across a bitch as good as her again, a tear fell from his eye, landing on Kelly’s favorite knife. Hmm, good omen, he thought, selecting that same knife as his weapon for tomorrow.
Opening a can of pea soup from the plywood shelves in the pantry, he grabbed a spoon, not bothering to heat it up. He needed thinking time. He suspected he wouldn’t be returning to the house after his satisfying moment–and I do mean satisfying, get it?—with Baby Tiff. He chuckled to himself over his unique cleverness.
He was reluctant to leave the house with the ripe DNA in the basement. He thought about torching the place along with the gold joint. Considering other methods of covering his tracks, he decided fire covered the best. He couldn’t care less if they discovered it was arson. They couldn’t prove enough to pin it on him. He would be long gone anyway.
Once he caught up with those motherfuckers that had killed his two best friends, he would have all the gold he needed to go anywhere in the world. After he had his fun with that stuck-up bitch and her weird fucking pet, that is. Yeah, he thought, he would torch that bugger too. Or stomp him, just like he’d done with the slobbering mutt.
He sucked the last of his pea soup off his finger, enjoying the sensation and letting the can drop to the filthy floor. Kicking it to the other side of the room, he paused. Hadn’t he heard the chicks in France were a bunch of whores? Yeah, he would put France on the top of his list. Reaching down to his crotch, he felt for his penis. Stroking it lovingly, he shouted out loud, “Yeah, wait’ll they get a load a this!”
*
The next day dawned early, swirling mists awaiting banishment by a stalwart winter sun. After filling his car with the items he felt worth taking with him, he went through the house, trailing a full container of kerosene, purely to make his job easier when he doubled back to light it up. He planned to be in a big hurry.
Getting behind the wheel, he fought rush hour traffic to find a strategic spot to park his car. Observing Tiffany unlock the office, he decided to wait awhile to ascertain if her boss would show up this morning. Once convinced she alone staffed the office, he crept to the unlocked front door, silently slithering in.
Looking around the empty reception room, he observed cardboard boxes and packing materials piled with files and knickknacks. From the front door he could hear the shuffling of boxes from another room. Unsheathing Kelly’s gleaming prize baby, he extracted a pair of handcuffs from his pocket, then locked the front door. The aroma of his staleness and sweat announced him as he opened another door to see Tiffany bending over a box unaware, her back to him, with her miniskirt hiked so far up her panties were winking at him. Licking his slobbering lips, he said, “Hello there, Tiff, my name’s Lover.”
*
Two hours later, he had what he needed. Before he left, he dumped out the contents of the boxes, hoping to pass off Tiffany’s body as a victim of a robbery gone wrong; or gone right. Depends on how ya look at things, he smirked to himself.
Tiff sure was a fun gal, all that squirming while he was on top of her. He only stuck her once or twice with Kelly’s baby before she got the message. Just the sight of her arms cuffed above her head as he ran his tongue down to her goody spot made him hard again. Who knew she would like it so much? He could tell by the way she said his name on his command. Slicing into her right titty convinced him of her excitement.
After that, he got all the info he needed, including a mighty fine blow job
, although the leaking blood disgusted him. Tiffany finally choked, heaving all over him. Punching her out kinda put a damper on their fun. She had needed to be taught some manners. He thought a fine educated bitch like her would know better than to barf all over him. Ah, they’re all the same, he thought, shaking his big head in disappointment. Just cunts and stuck-up bitches.
Arriving back at his house, he just needed to flip a match where he’d dumped the kerosene and get out fast. Quickly pulling away, he drove to Route 80, knowing he’d be in New York City in less than two hours. Thinking back to the information Baby Tiff had so easily blabbed to him, he wondered what was so special about Sarasota. He certainly didn’t relish a long lonely drive to Florida. He wondered how long he could stay on the road without falling asleep. He had to admit, making the long haul in the rickety old Volkswagen was not going to be pleasant. He wondered if he should buy something more befitting a man of his impending stature. He cackled, smacking his hand down on his knee. After he sold the gold in New York City, he should certainly be able to afford any set of wheels he wanted.
He wondered how long it would take. Probably a few days. He questioned if a little stopover in the city would put a dent in his plans by slowing him down.
He had never heard of Sarasota before. Must be another hick town like theirs in Sussex County. Shouldn’t be too hard to spot that motley crew of fuckers in a small hick town. It’s not like they were going to blend in with that freaky murderous pet of theirs.
Feeling like a king, Armoni pulled up to the first hotel he found after passing through the Lincoln Tunnel. He decided to make for 42nd Street since it was the only one he’d ever heard of.
Pulling his car under the flashy mezzanine of the Sheraton Hotel, an attendant shouted at him, telling him to move on, he couldn’t park there. What the fuck is he talking about? Glaring at him, Armoni motioned to the For Guests Only sign and walked past him into the lobby of the hotel. Barging up to the reservation desk, he slapped down a wad of money which represented all his net worth and demanded a room.
“May I have a credit card, please?” He didn’t like how the pretty front desk clerk with the fussy professional demeanor gave him the ole eyeball.
“What, my cash ain’t good enough?” Armoni asked in surprise. Behaving like she smelled something rotten, she explained how he would have to leave payment in advance, in addition to a deposit for incidental room expenditures. Peeling off some large bills, he counted out the amount she requested. It would cover him for a week. Counting what was left, he was surprised to see the dent he had just made in his stash. Oh well, he would be back in the chips soon enough.
Noticing the way the desk clerk stared at him, he kept his mouth shut and wondered if he should do some shopping for new duds while he stayed there. Dropping his car keys on the desk, he ordered her to have his car looked after. Didn’t want it stolen his first night in New York City.
Taking the room key the desk clerk had given him, he strolled over to the elevators, gawking at the well-dressed and attractive crowd who all appeared to have very important destinations. Was he intimidated? he asked himself. Nah, just a bunch of stuck-up pussy and sons a bitches. Fingering Kelly’s baby tucked away in his pants, he knew he was the intimidating one.
Arriving at his room, he struggled with the room key until he figured out how it worked. Letting himself in, he heaved his bag with the gold onto the huge bed, looking around the well-appointed room, impressed.
Spotting an advertising directory, he curled up on the bed. Wrenching his boots off, the room filled with a foul foot stench, Armoni completely impervious. Marking the ads for gold dealers, he finally turned to the auto dealers like a house cat that had just taken down a wildebeest. He feasted. Eventually, he found his eyes drooping. Climbing under the covers fully clothed, he drifted off to fuzzy dreams of Kelly and him, speeding down a country road of gold in a cherry-red convertible, laughing their heads off, Tomas in the back seat. Lost in his dreams, he farted and slept the night away.
Chapter 22
Disembarking from her plane, Abby felt disoriented. She followed the stream of fellow passengers as they made their way to the baggage claim, trying to spot Peter. Touching her sunglasses for reassurance, she felt relieved to note she wasn’t alone. Everyone wore sunglasses. As she made her way to meet Peter, she tried to quell her nervousness. She almost didn’t believe she had arrived safely in Sarasota; her ease with travel almost nonexistent, never before having traveled out of New Jersey. Hardly out of Sussex County or Short Hills either, for that matter. Her eyes roved everywhere as she took in her surroundings.
The airport sparkled, bright and clean. She got goosebumps from the air conditioning, yet everyone dressed casually, in brightly-colored shorts and sandals. They appeared fit, happy and attractive. No signs of poverty here. No downtrodden welfare faces dressed in hand-me-down thrift store clothing. Self-consciously, she smoothed her worn sweater, wishing she could be with Jose and Scotty. She felt undeniably out of her element.
Spotting Peter, she felt a measure of relief. He gave her a quick hug before taking her small bag from her hands.
“I’ve arranged some time with a personal shopper for you this evening. I hope that was okay?” Peter’s timid smile belied his efficiency. Abby saw past his blank owlish face into the intelligence of his unblinking eyes. She felt herself in good hands. Peter’s quick competence had enabled Abby and Jose to start knitting a psychological safety net, woven entirely with his help.
“Do we have money in an account here? I only brought enough to pay my hotel bill until the boys get here. I didn’t want to carry a lot on the plane.”
“My dear, you can spend as much as you please. I have already transferred funds from the two major gold sales to a local bank. The transaction took one day—the money made it to Florida before I did.” Handing Abby three plastic cards, he explained how they worked.
“We can activate them with your thumb print before you go shopping. Don’t worry about losing them. All vendors provide readers for your print before a sale is wrung up. No one but you can access your card.” Changing the subject, he declared, “I’m embarrassed to admit I enjoyed a delightful day yesterday with our realtor. This town is impossible to be depressed in.”
“I’m glad you’re enjoying the process, I was worried you’d find it tedious. You’re so important to us, Peter. We’re all so pleased this is working out. Have you completely closed your office in Sussex?” Peter bowed his head, trying to hide his flush of pleasure from her words.
“Yes, the office is closed. Tiffany is shipping my files to my hotel here. I’ll store them until we settle on the new move. I turned anything active over to other attorneys in the area. I wonder, what do you think of hiring Tiffany and moving her down here? I think we may need an assistant to do personal errands, shopping etc.?”
“That would be fine. She seems very sweet. Can she leave her family? This is a big move.”
“Who would say no to trading Sussex County for Sarasota?” Laughing together, Abby and Peter stepped out into the sunlight.
Peter had a Savanna Rover waiting at the busy curb. As he hustled her out of the terminal, he gave her the low down on their itinerary. First stop, Bird Key and their realtor. Pulling out into the traffic, he dumped sheets of information on her lap, told her to buckle up, and off they went.
*
Sylvia Wadsworth’s enjoyment of her seventy-third birthday had just increased with the execution of the last contract of her long career. It had been two very long days. She fingered the heavy faux pearls draped around the layers of crepe at her throat while her other manicured hand fluffed her perfect blond highlights.
Chuckling to herself, she couldn’t wait to enjoy the expression on her third husband’s face when he saw this contract and the commission she stood to receive from the sale. What a way to start her long-deserved retirement.
She would have suspected a hoax after meeting the purchaser, had not her stoic attorney accom
panied her; a shy respectful young man for sure. Ms. Preston appeared to behave like a lovely young lady, but clearly not from a family of substance. She idly wondered if Ms. Preston might share the name of her stylist, her golden streaks were absolute perfection.
Sylvia did not possess the nerve to inquire as to where the funds for such a purchase had come from. The attorney supplied the proof of funds letter, so she kept her mouth shut. Between the three mansions on pricey Bird Key, the sixty-four-foot Bertram motor yacht, included by one of the sellers, and her fee for coordinating the furnishing of the homes with one of the top designers from Kane’s of Sarasota, her purchase would come to $63 million dollars, to close in thirty days. Nice.
But what did an unsophisticated single young woman need with these properties? It sure appeared suspicious to her. During her previous appointments with the attorney, he had failed to reveal who he represented. Now, after spending two days together, she knew. But the purchaser revealed very little. And what’s with the constant sunglasses? The girl never takes them off. Like never. Maybe she should keep an eye on Miss Abby. Wouldn’t want any harm to come to her elite community, now would she? Sylvia sniffed, thinking Miss Abby better watch her step if she thought she could break into Sarasota society just because of her flashy new money.
The size of the purchase would certainly be commented on in the real estate section of Sarasota Today. Everyone in town would be dying of curiosity.
Preening, Sylvia realized she would receive reflected glory in being the realtor of record. She could sure use a status bump at the country club. Maybe she should be a tad more generous toward the poor girl.
Picking up her cell, she dialed her husband. She felt like celebrating tonight. Asking him to call Michaels on First for reservations, she looked forward to an icy cold martini at her favorite restaurant.
*
Returning to their hotels, Peter dropped Abby off first. His hotel sat just a half mile away, closer to the marina. Working feverishly on his new client’s affairs, he hadn’t spent much time thinking about the ramifications of this momentous move or his own future. He loved seeing the world outside the small confines of Sussex County. He knew Tiffany would love it, along with the new clients. His fondness for Abby and Jose continued to grow. It was clear in the way that Abby referred to Jose that they were in love. He wished them well, but it made him feel lonely. Perhaps when they had settled into their new homes, he might try to date.
Alien Species Intervention: Books 1-3: An Alien Apocalyptic Saga (Species Intervention #6609) Page 33
