by Jaden Wilkes
Serial
Volume Two
Lily White
And
Jaden Wilkes
Table of Contents
Chapter One 3
Chapter Two 9
Chapter Three 15
Chapter Four 21
Chapter Five 27
Chapter Six 33
Chapter Seven 37
Chapter Eight 43
Chapter Nine 46
Chapter Ten 52
Chapter Eleven 61
Chapter Twelve 65
Chapter One
Patty Wilson
Patricia ‘Patty’ Wilson never had good luck. From the time she was born to an addict mother, to last night when she got the shit kicked out of her and was robbed by the last trick of the night. Shitty luck abounded.
She stood over the bassinet and cooed at the only thing she’d ever done right, baby Sarah. She claimed to not know who the father was, but she knew. In her heart of hearts she knew it was her boyfriend Jason.
He denied it of course, claimed he was sterile because he’d been hit in the nuts with a baseball or some shit. But she knew.
Sarah gurgled and kicked her little legs. Her tiny fists pumped with excitement and Patty felt a surge of love fill her body. This was unlike the frenetic urgency she had with Jason; this was something akin to a tsunami, something that rose slowly inside her from the first moment Sarah lay on her chest in the hospital. It took over her life and lightened every dark corner of her psyche.
Which was why she was going to tell him tonight, she didn’t want to work any more. She’d been in touch with her high school English teacher, a funny Scottish lady who cracked bad puns and had a strange habit of rubbing her hands together like a little squirrel. Mrs. Bradley had told her this morning she would be welcome back to the high school to finish twelfth grade, she could get her diploma and she would help Patty fill out forms for college.
She picked Sarah up, nuzzled her neck and inhaled the sweet smell of her little girl. “It’s going to be okay, baby girl,” she whispered, “I’m getting us out of here one way or another.”
She set Sarah down and gave her a bottle. She knew it wasn’t good to prop it up and let her drink on her own, but her mother would never remember to feed her, and she would drink until she fell asleep and the bottle dropped off.
She sang her a few lines from a song she’d heard once. “Hush little baby, don’t say a word. Momma’s gonna buy you a mocking bird.” She smiled at Sarah’s sleepy face and couldn’t wait to get home so she could cuddle up with her and plan their new lives together.
She hated leaving her, but she had to earn a last few dollars before breaking the news to Jason.
She stroked Sarah’s pudgy little cheek and found the strength to make this her last night. She straightened her back and went to find her mother.
“Hey, Ma, I’m heading out now. Sarah’s been fed and changed, she should be good until I get home. If she does fuss, just pick her up and put her over your shoulder, she’s been really gassy lately.”
“I know how to handle a baby,” her mother replied, her words already slurring, “I didn’t kill you, did I?”
Patty didn’t respond, there was no point bringing up the past and reminding her mother of the many times she was taken by the state because her mother had come damn close to actually killing her.
“Yeah, you did a good job, Ma.”
“Bigfoot, where ya headed?” John, her mother’s latest boyfriend demanded as he came out of the bathroom. A moist shit smell trailed behind him and he waved his magazine around behind him. “Damn, I gotta lay off those burritos.”
Her mom laughed like it was the god damned funniest thing anyone had ever said. “Spray something, John,” she said.
“Then it will smell like shit covered roses,” John replied and sat his bulk down in his favorite chair. Every boyfriend her mom had ever brought home took over that chair. Men were simple minded in their needs.
“I’m going out for a bit. I’ll be back before midnight,” she said and waited for their protests. She was pleased when they didn’t seem to fight her. She could even forgive him for the stupid nickname he’d bestowed upon her. He called her Bigfoot after some old bigfoot film called Patty. He fancied himself a hunter of sorts, but odds were he’d catch a heart attack long before he caught a fucking hairy ape.
“Don’t have too much fun,” he said and shifted his large frame in the chair and reached for her mom’s hand. They’d probably kick back a case of beer and watch Pawn Stars until she got home.
“I never do,” she replied and grabbed her coat. It was chilly tonight, it had been raining and the pavement hadn’t had time to warm up.
She caught the number seventy-five bus to the MAX. That was the worst part about living in St. Johns, no easy access to the city. She finally got the train and headed downtown and met up with Jason and his crew at some taco joint Chico was managing now. It was his uncle’s or stepdad’s, whoever it was; they were stupid for letting Chico run the place.
She didn’t like Chico, he supplied Jason with weed, and a couple of times Jason had owed him, Patty had been forced to suck his dick to pay off the debt.
She hated his wiry pubes, his semi flaccid cock that tasted of sweat and piss, and she hated that Jason was okay with passing her around.
It was just her bad luck that they were all pretty high by the time she got there. Jason was always harder to handle when he was running on meth. He’d need more money too, if he had already gone through his stash.
“Hey babe,” he said and pulled her towards him when she walked up. He draped his arm around her possessively and she warmed towards him. He wasn’t that bad when he was tender, he could be downright loving at times.
“Hey you,” she said and tucked herself under his arm, enjoying the contact.
“I’m gonna need you to work your pretty little ass off tonight,” he said. She noticed his eyes were glassy when she looked up at him. “I owe Chico here, and he don’t want no cock sucking in return for the shit I bought today. So…get out there and hustle.”
She bristled at his order and decided to walk away now. “Jason, I’m leaving. I have to do it for Sarah and me. I need to get back to school.”
It took a minute for it to register, and his face went black the moment it sunk into his meth-addled brain.
“Bitch, you ain’t goin nowhere!” he roared and shoved her hard. She fell back against a parking lot divider and landed on her ass. She felt her jeans rip and tears spring to her eyes.
“I can’t do this again,” she started bawling, right there on the street in ripped jeans and in front of Jason and all his awful friends. “You have to stop hitting me!”
“Don’t tell me what to do, cunt,” he spat out and kicked her in the ribs. He was wearing heavy boots and she felt something pop. It hurt to breathe.
She gave up; she went limp and prepared herself for the beating. This seemed to be the only strategy that ever got her out of his rages alive, so she fell back on it again.
“Man, bitch ain’t worth it,” Chico said and pulled him back, “wait ‘til your alone with her, teach her a lesson, but not out here in front of people and cameras.”
“Shit, you’re right bro,” Jason said, “but she’d better work tonight, I’m not in the mood for this feminism shit when there’s money to be made.”
Chico looked down at her and smiled, an oily smile full of terrible thoughts and even more terrible deeds.
She took it though, and gave him a shy little grin when he let go of her hand. She brushed herself off, checked her jeans and was happy to note it was just a tear along the seam on the side. She’d spent a hundred and fifty bucks on these and would d
ie if they were ruined.
She wondered if Forever Twenty One took jeans back for reasons like, ‘beaten by pimp.’
“You’re working Eighty-Second and Washington tonight,” Jason told her, “ but off the main drag. Don’t go too close to Eighty-Second, or Tennille will kick your ass. Although that might be epic to watch, hey Chico?” He elbowed his friend and they guffawed.
“I want to go home,” Patty said, and sniffled. Her hip really hurt and she wanted to get back to Sarah with an urgency she’d never felt before. She had an overwhelming premonition that something bad would happen tonight.
“Get in the car or I’ll fucking beat you down, bitch,” Jason said and glanced at Chico, “I’ll be back after I drop her off.”
“Sounds good to me, bro,” Chico replied and the two exchanged the sideways handshake, the one that indicated their gang affiliation. Three years with Jason, and Patty still couldn’t follow the pumping and bumping that went along with it. Chico gave her a dangerous look, she knew if she didn’t obey Jason, Chico would step in and help him put her in line.
She could handle Jason on his own, but if the two of them were on meth and got going, it would take her weeks to heal.
She went against her better judgment and slid into the front passenger seat of Jason’s ride. His pride and joy, a nineteen eighty-nine black Mustang GT five liter, whatever the fuck that meant. She thought it was kind of a shit box, but he claimed it was a classic. It always seemed to be in a state of restoration, sometimes not even starting.
She prayed right now that it wouldn’t start, that she could get back on the bus and go home, start school in the morning and begin her new life.
It fired up the minute he turned the key in the ignition. Her shitty luck again.
It didn’t take her long to realize that Jason was driving her someplace else.
“Where are we going?” she asked, daring to interrupt his rambling complaint about the welfare system fucking him over somehow. She didn’t know how she had ever thought him charming. She supposed she’d been stupid back then, and he’d seemed so much older and sophisticated.
“You’re getting too uppity, after you had that brat,” he muttered and gripped the wheel. She wished they’d brought the pipe so she could load it with crystal and help him focus. He was such a fucking psycho when he was a couple hours into his night. Meth made him angry, but it made him less aggressive. “You shoulda gotten rid of it, like I told you.”
He turned onto the I-84 and headed towards the Willamette. She was starting to get nervous. He would generally make her work along the strip of hourly hotels and back alleys, then drive her home sometime in the early morning.
She didn’t know what he had in mind, so she kept quiet.
He turned off the I-84 towards the river, cruised the back streets slowly, as if looking for a spot to park.
Finally he found a dead end street that ended at the water. There were no houses around, and the few industrial buildings were dark and looked abandoned.
“Jason,” she said, “you’re scaring me.”
“Good,” he replied and cut the engine. He hit the steering wheel a couple times with an open fist. “Why you gotta do me like this? In front of Chico? You make me look like a fool, bitch. I treat you good, why you playing me?”
“I’m not playing you,” she said, hating the pleading whine that crept into her voice, “I love you, but I love baby Sarah. I want to make her a good life. I can’t keep doing this.”
She felt tears sting her eyes and knew shit would get hard if she cried. He hated crybabies.
“I just try to do the best for you,” he said and opened his door, “now let’s take a little walk, I want to show you something.”
She wanted to lock the doors and stay in the car until his dangerous urges had passed.
Jason was the most psychotic man she’d ever met, and he terrified her when he got like this. She almost did lock the doors, but thought against it. She shouldn’t provoke him.
She got out and he was there in a flash, grabbed her hair and smashed her face against the side of his car. She started to sob and could feel blood flowing from her nose.
“Why?” she asked and blubbered like a little bitch.
“Because you want to leave,” he replied, his voice a little too calm. “You can’t leave me.”
Her stupid little heart did a flip-flop when he said it, thinking perhaps he meant he cared for her, he loved her.
“Why not?” she asked.
“You make too much, with your tight little cunt and your hot little ass. I ain’t got no other girls like you, none make as much as you do and you know I’ve got needs.”
“Drugs you mean, you need me so you can afford drugs,” she said, her tears slowing and her snot thickening in her nose. She sounded stuffed up, like she had a cold.
“Shit, you know what I like,” he said and stepped back. He slapped her thigh and added, “Now let’s get this slab of meat back behind the counter.” He laughed at his own joke and moved around the car.
Something came over her and she bolted. She ran along the river, between a couple industrial buildings and crouched behind a dumpster.
“Patty,” he bellowed after her, “come back! I need you girl, don’t be like this!”
He called for her a few more times, then swore and got back in the car. It barely started and she heard the engine’s irregular rumble as he moved back and forth down the streets looking for her.
She didn’t know how much time had passed, but her legs cramped and her back itched from the sweat running down her spine.
When she hadn’t heard him for a while, she stood up and stretched. She pulled out her phone, two hours since she’d found them at Chico’s taco place.
Her stomach grumbled and her head hurt.
She found her location on Google maps on her phone and breathed out. She was miles from anything, and it would take her hours to get home. She decided to start walking.
Sarah would probably be waking up for a feeding around now. She ached to hold her, tip the bottle up and watch her little perfect lips latch on.
She decided things could have been worse, her luck could have been really bad, and she was unscathed considering everything.
Tomorrow was a new day, a new start for her and her baby. She whistled a little tune as she walked, a lullaby she realized, as she headed home to her little girl.
Chapter Two
Jude
“Seriously,” Luka said, “you have to tell us about this chick. All you’ve done is fucking brood, check your phone constantly and barely check out the tits and ass.”
It was Marcus’ bachelor party, and, as promised, it was epic. Off the charts. Monumental. Fuck, all those ridiculous adjectives people use to describe their shitty lives on social media.
It was, as every other time I left the house and spent time with the guys, mediocre at best.
Some moments in life…in fact most moments in life were magical in the retelling. The actually happening was nothing to write home about.
Which fucking sucks, because as amazing as it is to slay a beautiful young woman, I miss out on the retelling. It’s like a Saturday Night Live episode that’s piss your pants funny, but you aren’t allowed to talk about it.
“Nothing’s up,” I replied and tucked my phone away. He was right; I was checking it too often. “Just letting the little lady know I’m not balls deep in some stripper pussy at the moment.”
The guys laughed and raised their glasses, one of Marcus’s partners from his financial investment firm yelled, “The night’s still young,” and they all hooted like primates.
I joined in and downed my tequila shot. It burned on the way down but turned to liquid fire in my belly. I could feel the warmth spread out and loosen the back of my brain.
Maybe I should at least settle for a blowjob in the champagne room. We’ll see.
I could always go back to the warehouse. She’s there, waiting for me. Preparing herself for
our final meeting, her immortality.
I’ve been checking the phone because I was watching her. I had found a dank little storage room in my warehouse’s sub-basement. It was perfect, down a long hall to nowhere, hidden at the very end behind a utility closet. Most likely something left over from prohibition, but I’d felt like I’d struck gold when I’d discovered it.
I’d installed a night vision camera and had a live feed to my phone. She was fascinating, defiant and grasping for any way out. Every once in a while she would stand up and move her hands along the wall, looking for a door or a window. Her fingers appeared boneless, the way she ran them along the concrete blocks. It gave her an underwater appearance.
I ignored the phone in my pocket, ignored the hot sensation of her image burning up the screen, and concentrated on Marcus and his coworkers going over some mortgage scheme which had made them millions but ended up in hundreds of foreclosures.
Fucking parasitic scumbags I tell you. All of my friends are.
That’s the only terrible thing about being a serial killer, the friends you find yourself surrounded by. You lay down with dogs, you’ll get fleas and all that shit.
“Anybody hear about that CK guy?” a fat ginger from the office asked in his falsetto voice. If he weren’t filthy rich, he’d never have a wife. Let’s face it, you can get away with a lot of shit if you have unlimited funds. It’s not that women are shallow; it’s just that their libido is often directly connected to something pragmatic. I admire them for that.
“He’s a fucking freak,” Tony said and winced as he downed another shot. This one multi layered with some creamy drink. He’s going to feel that in the morning.
“I don’t know,” Luka piped up at last. He’s been quiet tonight, I’m not sure why. Sometimes I think he harbors a bit of resentment towards Marcus after some deal gone sour from last year. “I think he might be a friggin genius.”
