by Bryan Smith
The sound of an approaching engine drew Rob’s attention back the way they’d come. An old lime green Fiat turned into the Shell’s parking lot and pulled up alongside the pump closest to the front of the store. An overweight guy of about forty heaved himself out of the car, took out his wallet, and inserted a debit or credit card in the pump’s card slot. He punched in some numbers. His PIN, probably. So, a debit card. He stood there watching the digital display until the sale was approved. He then removed the pump handle from its cradle and inserted the nozzle in the Fiat’s gas tank. He held the pump handle as he watched the digital numbers tick by.
“Not worth robbing.”
Rob looked at Roxie, face drawing down into a frown. “Do we really need to rob anybody? I mean…I’ve got money. A couple hundred in my wallet. A few thousand more in my bank account. You don’t even have to shoot anybody to get it.”
“Oh, I’ll be taking all that. Count on it. I’m just saying, this fucking schmuck wouldn’t be worth the bother anyway.”
Despite himself, Rob was curious. “Yeah? Why?”
Roxie nodded in his direction. “Look at him. The way he’s holding the pump handle and watching the numbers. This is a guy with overdraft concerns. A sad sack of shit just scraping by on a daily basis. Only reason I’d shoot that poor bastard would be to put him out of his misery.”
Rob looked at the guy again, noting saggy, grime-encrusted jeans and a faded, raggedy T-shirt that looked like something retrieved from the reject bin at a Goodwill outlet. His face was unshaven and doughy. There was a wide, shiny bald circle at the crown of his skull, but the hair he did have was long and scraggly.
“Huh.”
She was right. He wouldn’t be worth robbing. He tucked this fact away in his mental file of Information I’ll Fucking Never Need. Still, it was sort of interesting. She had a sharp eye for things an experienced criminal would know at a glance. Which made sense, what with her being exactly that.
“Aha!”
The exclamation drew his attention away from Mr. Downward Spiral. His brow knitted as he studied the slim, silver object pinched between the thumb and forefinger of her right hand. “Is that what I think it is?”
“Yes.”
She unlocked the cuff attached to the steering wheel.
“You’re letting me go?”
“Don’t be an idiot.”
“Right. That was stupid. What is happening?”
She nodded at the bathroom door. “We’re going in there.” She hoisted the tote bag. “I have to change into regular girl clothes. I can’t very well go around dressed like this when I’m off on a spree, now can I?”
Rob shrugged. “I don’t have a lot of experience in that area. I am not a ‘spree’ person. But that sounds…smart?”
“You don’t sound sure.”
Another shrug. “Like I said…”
“Yeah, yeah, lack of experience, et cetera. Look. Here’s what’s happening. Obviously I can’t leave you out here while I’m changing. You’re gonna get out. Do it nice and easy. Calmly. Like any regular dude getting out of his car to take a piss. Keep the open cuff tucked in your palm and don’t look at the fat fuck at the pump. Walk straight to the bathroom with me. Got it?”
She was pointing the gun at him again.
Yeah, he got it.
He nodded.
“Good. Let’s go.”
She got out and stood at the side of the car, waiting for him, the gun tucked away in the tote bag, which she held in front of her. Rob got out and carefully kept his head turned away from the gas pumps as he followed her toward the bathroom. And though he was aware of how obscenely inappropriate it was in light of the monstrous thing she’d done not even an hour earlier, the prurient part of him couldn’t help noting that she looked just as good from behind. The backs of her thighs and calves were shapely and toned, and her high-rise ass looked amazing framed by that little black skirt. Her walk was the effortless, seductive strut of a born sex kitten. The swivel of her hips made him think about things he had no business thinking of in light of the horrible thing she had done. When they reached the bathroom door, she glanced at him, a corner of her mouth quirking in a way that made it clear she knew exactly where his attention had been and exactly what he had been thinking. That smug surety made him at once angry and ashamed. This was an awful woman. A heartless killer. The knowledge of that alone should kill any flicker of lust looking at her might inspire.
But it didn’t. Not quite.
And knowing that deepened the shame.
She opened the door and pushed him into a dark space. She followed him inside and flicked a switch, summoning light to swallow the darkness. Rob heard her push the door shut behind him and turn the lock. It hit him. He was alone in a closed space with a murderer. No one could see them. She could kill him now and no one could stop her. Hell, it would be the perfect time to do it. He heard something hit the floor and realized she’d dropped the tote bag.
Leaving just the gun in her hand.
He tensed, expecting to feel the press of a gun barrel against the back of his head any moment. He tried not to whimper. Tried to be brave.
He closed his eyes and waited for the end.
Then he felt something small and hard hammer the small of his back. He cried out and pitched forward, his knees painfully smacking the hard and filthy floor tiles. His eyes came open a moment before something—her open palm, he realized an instant later—struck the side of his head and drove him the rest of the way to the floor.
“Get under the sink.”
Rob rolled onto his side and stared up at her through eyes misted with tears. “Jesus. You didn’t have to hit me.”
She kicked him in the shin and he cried out again.
“Do what I fucking told you before I lose my patience.”
Rob got to his hands and knees and stared at the small porcelain sink. It was mounted against the wall to the left. A rust-corroded pipe protruded from the bottom of the sink and fed through a hole in the wall. Roxie kicked him again, in the ass this time, and he yelped. He hurriedly crawled under the sink and stared up at her again as she knelt in front of him. The dark sunglasses were up over her forehead, nestled in the raven black hair. She looked sexier than ever, down there on her haunches, so close to him now, the thrust of her breasts against the tight T-shirt more evident than ever. He stared into her eyes and felt the shame come back. This beautiful face…at this angle…It was probably exactly the way those poor fucks in the Neon had seen her in the final, unsuspecting moments of their lives. In his mind he saw the bright splash of red against the Neon’s rear window. He started shaking again.
She smiled. “Scared?”
He swallowed. “Yeah.”
She stared at him silently a moment, head at an angle, lips pursed as she studied him. Then she smiled again and said, “Good. I like that.” She grabbed the open cuff and snapped it shut around the pipe. “You just hang out there while I get changed.” She laughed. “Though I guess you don’t have much choice, huh?”
Rob just stared at her.
Still smiling, she grabbed the tote bag and stood up. She turned away from him and leaned against the sink as she rummaged through the bag again. Rob stared at the backs of her legs and again tried not to think of…things. She hummed a tune as she dug through the bag, a jaunty melody he couldn’t place. It sounded wrong coming from the likes of her.
The bathroom was small. There was a single stall without a door and a single urinal next to it. Mounted on the wall next to the door was a coin-operated condom dispenser, mostly the novelty type that were no good for actual contraception. He’d purchased some once as a gag gift for his exgirlfriend. God. Charlene. What an amazing girl she’d been. That radiant smile. Her enthusiasm. What he’d give to see her now. Breaking up with her had been such a dick move. And for what? To sow some wild oats? How stupid was that? He’d already had the perfect girl. So what if Lindsey—his best friend and roommate—loathed her?
If I
ever get out of here—
The tote bag dropped to the floor again and Roxie moved away from the sink. She stood in the center of the room and began the process of shimmying out of her goth-slut outfit. First the T-shirt came off over her head. Charlene’s image was vanquished in an instant. The black, frilly bra juxtaposed against the pale, smooth skin was a compelling sight to behold. The skirt came off next and she tossed it into the tote bag. She kicked her shoes off and leaned against the stall. She lifted one leg and began to peel off a striped sock. Slowly. Rob’s gaze went to her face. She was looking right at him. And it hit him. She was doing this as much for effect as necessity. She rolled the sock up and tossed it in the bag. Then she repeated the same slow process with the other sock. Rob kept staring at her. He knew he should look away and not allow her to manipulate him this way, at least muster some small show of respect for the people she’d killed.
But he just couldn’t do it.
She tossed the other sock in the bag. “See anything you like?”
She laughed.
And Rob yelped as something struck the other side of the bathroom door three times. A muffled voice called out: “Hurry up in there! I gotta piss like a Russian racehorse.”
Roxie looked Rob in the eye. She didn’t need to say anything, her intense expression communicating a command as clear as any verbal directive. “Just gimme a sec to finish up in here. I’m going as fast as I can. I’m having…uh…feminine issues.”
A snort from the other side of the door. “Feminine issues, my ass. Fucking whore. I saw you go in there with that guy. It’s against the law to have sex in public bathrooms, did you know that? Now get out of there and let me take a piss or I call the cops.”
Roxie went to the door and drew it partially open. “Look, I’m taking care of some business in here. This guy’s paying me good money to go off on his ass with some kinky shit.” She opened the door wider, and a man Rob remembered as the dumpy dude from the gas pumps peeked in at him.
The man grinned and looked at Roxie. “No shit?”
Roxie smiled some more and posed seductively. “No shit. You’d be surprised at some of the twisted shit these bondage freaks are into. He’s even paying me to verbally abuse him.” Roxie glanced at Rob. “Isn’t that right, you miserable piece of shit?”
Rob swallowed thickly and managed a weak nod.
The man laughed and licked his lips. “Takes all kinds, I guess. Look, I don’t care what you people are up to, but I really do need to take a piss. Like, right now.”
Roxie leaned forward slightly, thrusting her breasts at him. He looked, of course. “So come in and take a fucking piss.” She laughed softly. “Maybe you’d like to join in.”
The guy stared at her tits. He stroked his chin. You could see he really wanted a piece of this action. “I…well, that sounds fucking awesome, but…I’m kind of…cash poor at the moment.”
“Oh, that’s okay.”
Roxie grabbed him by a wrist and tugged him into the bathroom. She closed the door and locked it again. She wrapped her arms around the man’s neck and writhed against him, eliciting a tortured moan. “Baby, you’re so fucking sexy. I feel like giving you a freebie.”
The man’s face turned red. “Holy shit. Are you for real?”
She giggled. “You’ve never met anybody more real than me, baby.”
She broke the embrace and pushed him into the stall, maneuvering him into a sitting position on the toilet. Rob’s heart began to pound. He didn’t know what Roxie had in mind, but it couldn’t be anything good. And he was pretty certain she wasn’t about to fuck this guy. Curiosity made him push away from the wall and scoot out as far as his cuffed hand would allow. He was able to get a pretty good view of Roxie standing over the guy.
The man stared up at her in rapt amazement and adoration, apparently having forgotten that he needed to piss like a Russian racehorse. Whatever that meant. Roxie leaned over him, bracing her hands on the toilet tank lid as she dangled her breasts in his face. She giggled again. “Close your eyes, baby, and I’ll give you a big surprise.”
The man’s whole body shuddered. “Holy shit. It’s my lucky day.”
Rob grimaced.
No, dude, it really isn’t.
The man closed his eyes.
And Rob saw Roxie’s fingers curl tight around the edges of the tank lid. She lifted the lid off the tank and held it high over her head. The man’s eyes came open and he stared up at her in confused astonishment. A guttural, animal sound ripped out of Roxie’s throat as she slammed the lid down on top of the man’s head. The heavy wedge of white porcelain went up again and came down again. Over and over. Until Rob heard a sound that reminded him of an eggshell cracking. But it didn’t end then. She kept hitting him with the thing. He had no concept of how long it went on. He vomited on the floor, heaving violently for several minutes before retreating to his previous position under the sink. He closed his eyes and tried to will the world away. He felt clammy and sick. Some time passed and he became aware that the sounds of violence had ended.
He opened his eyes and saw Roxie staring down at him, face impassive. She was dressed in tight jeans, white sneakers, and a plain blue T-shirt.
“It’s time to go.”
Rob sniffled. “O-o-o-o—”
“Shut up.”
Rob closed his mouth.
Roxie uncuffed him and they departed the scene of yet another murder. Within moments they were back on the interstate. The road unfurled endlessly toward the hazy horizon. But Rob no longer saw the open road as a place of charm and limitless possibilities. The path ahead of him was a devil’s highway to nothing but doom and damnation.
CHAPTER NINE
March 17
A car loaded with teenage boys drove by Julie Cosgrove as she walked down the narrow residential road. One boy leaned out a rear window and made a rude comment. Julie’s thumbs moved rapidly over the buttons of her cell phone as she entered a response to a text from Alicia, her best friend. She heard laughter from the boys in the car, but barely perceived it. They weren’t worth her attention. She didn’t bother flipping them off either, as that would only reward their obnoxious behavior. Balding tires screeched on asphalt and the car zipped away.
Julie rolled her eyes.
Boys.
They were so stupid. Oh, she liked them on a physical level, but she couldn’t stand how immature most boys her age were. These losers, for instance, with this half-assed driveby come-on. Too chickenshit to get any closer or deal with her on a face-to-face level. She smirked, knowing how they would blush and mumble if forced to spend more than two consecutive seconds in her presence.
She hit a button to send the text and snapped her phone shut. Seeing she was only a block away from the house owned by John and Karen Lee, she picked up her pace. It was a little after three in the afternoon. Karen usually didn’t get home from her bank job until around four. But John was a CPA and often worked from home. She saw his car in the driveway, a black BMW. She felt a little flutter in her stomach at the sight of it. She knew John had a thing for her. He was always trying to look at her when he thought she wasn’t watching. It was cute how innocent he tried to act when she caught him in the act.
She’d been thinking of him a lot just recently. A man his age would know how to treat a woman right. He wouldn’t always be making crude cracks or laughing like an idiot at his own jokes, like most of the boys she knew. And John was pretty fucking hot for an old guy. Julie sometimes wondered what it might be like to kiss him. The thought made her feel naughty. It was “inappropriate,” as her mother would say. But the hell with her. Julie smiled. Truth was, she had all kinds of naughty ideas about all kinds of things running through her head all the time. Things that would absolutely horrify her mother. It was a good thing the woman barely knew how to turn on or operate a computer. Her laptop was full of things that would cause a snooping parent to freak the fuck out.
She couldn’t wait to see his eyes get big when he got a l
ook at her sexy body in very short denim cutoffs and tiny halter top. He would struggle not to look at her tits and fail. The only guys who could avoid checking out her tits for long were the gay ones. And sometimes even they stared. She would ask for last week’s babysitting money and he would invite her inside, maybe offer her a cool drink while he counted the cash from his wallet. And he would joke with her, flirt with her in that goofy old-guy way, like he had at little Nancy’s birthday party the week before. Only this time Julie thought she might respond with some suggestive comments of her own, and, well…
She smiled.
We’ll just see how things go from there.
But the smile dropped from her face as she spied the blue Mini Cooper parked on the other side of the BMW. Karen’s car. So the bitch was home early from her stupid job. Julie had a quick fantasy of punching the older woman in the face.
Her phone vibrated and she flipped it open to see a new text from Alicia. U cant be serious, he’s like a thousand yrs older than u.
Julie sent a quick text back. I know. Shut up.
She turned the phone off and flipped it shut again.
She crossed the Lees’ immaculately tended lawn and climbed the front porch steps to ring the doorbell. A little chime sounded inside and she heard a male voice say something indistinct. That had to be John. She hoped he would come to the door instead of Karen. She badly wanted to see that lustful look in his eyes. That would be enough to sustain her until her next shot at having some time alone with him. While she waited, she pondered again the question of how far she might let John go when that finally happened. She wanted to kiss him. God, yes. But would he be satisfied with that? He might think she was just a tease.
But maybe—
The doorknob started to turn and she quickly summoned her brightest smile, hoping to really dazzle him. Her first hint something was wrong was the stink that assailed her nostrils as the door began to open. When it was fully open, her face paled at the grinning nightmare standing before her.
