The Bad Ones

by Stylo Fantome

  “Glad you paid attention to the pertinent parts of my confession,” she laughed.

  “I paid attention to the whole thing. Don’t worry, I love you, too,” he assured her. She leaned back then, trusting him to take her weight. When she made contact with his chest, she let out a sigh.

  “That’s why it can’t ever be done.”

  She couldn’t say the words because she didn’t trust him enough yet; didn’t trust herself. But she could give him this – a moment in time they’d always remember. A beating heart that would only ever belong to him. It was all in black, and her memory of anatomy was shaky at best, but one entire wall was covered in a heart. A real heart, with arteries and ventricles and blood. So much blood.

  “I love it. It’s perfect,” he whispered as he kissed her temple.

  “It is, isn’t it?” she agreed. His arm wrapped around her waist.

  “It really is. Pity it won’t be here for long. C’mon, we have a lot of work to do.”

  26

  “Dulcie!”

  She turned at the sound of her name. Jared was waving as he jogged towards her. She smiled and stood up.

  “Hey, thanks for meeting me on such short notice,” she said, then leaned in to hug him when he got close enough.

  “No problem, I was glad you called.”

  She winced when she took in his bruised cheek. Con hadn’t held back.

  “I just wanted to say thank you, for helping me yesterday,” she got right down to it as she took her seat again. They were in the middle of the park and he sat down next to her.

  “God, don’t thank me. I would hope anyone would do that if they’d seen what I saw,” he told her.

  “Yeah, I know. But still, it was nice. And I also wanted to say sorry, for Con,” she continued. He nodded.

  “It’s okay. We talked for a while. That guy really has a thing for you.”

  “He’s got something, that’s for sure.”

  “Y’know,” Jared spoke slowly. “He told me a lot of stuff, about Matt … your brother.”

  “Half-brother,” she was quick to correct him.

  “He said stuff like that’s been going on for a while,” he kept talking.

  “Yeah. Yeah, it has. It’s gotten worse since I moved into the big house. It’s driving Con crazy,” she explained.

  “I can imagine.”

  “No,” she shook her head. “Like really crazy. We got into this huge fight last night, he was hitting himself, he broke a bunch of dishes. He’s … he’s going to do something.”

  She stared at Jared with wide eyes. She knew she didn’t look very good; she hadn’t put on a stitch of makeup before leaving the house, and she’d been up all night. No sleep had left her with bags under her eyes and less than glowing skin.

  “What’s he going to do?” Jared asked. She sighed and shoved her messy hair behind her ears.

  “Something bad. I don’t know. I shouldn’t have said anything,” she mumbled, tapping her fingers against her lips. He reached out and grabbed her wrist.

  “No, you should. You have to talk to someone. If he’s acting this way, Dulcie, you need to get away from him,” he insisted, holding her hand close to his chest. She shook her head.

  “No. It’s not like that, he wouldn’t hurt me,” she said, but her voice was shaking.

  “It doesn’t matter. You’re scared, and that’s bad enough. Please, Dulcie. I know … I know things got weird between us. But we’re friends, at the end of the day. At least, I think of you as a friend. Let me help you,” he insisted.

  “After everything I said to you,” her voice lowered to a whisper. “You’d still help me?”

  “In a heartbeat.”

  Dulcie frowned and looked away from him, but didn’t pull her hand free. He was squeezing her fingers, almost massaging them. She realized he was trying to warm them up; she was ice cold.

  Silly man, that’s room temperature for me. Careful, you might get frostbite.

  “I shouldn’t have come here,” she stood up abruptly. He held fast to her hand.

  “You should’ve. I’m glad you did. You’re seriously freaking me out.”

  “I have to go. If Con finds out I talked to you about this, he’ll …”

  “He’ll what? I’m not scared of him,” Jared sneered. She finally looked down at him.

  “You should be.”

  Then she yanked free of his grasp and jogged to her car. By the time he was even halfway to her, she was already driving away. She let out a deep breath and glanced in her rear view mirror. Barely recognized the eyes looking back at her. The amber was being swallowed by black. She shook her head and looked forward.

  One down. One more to go. Just keep moving.

  *

  Dulcie rarely saw her mother anymore. Since she’d moved out, she’d never once been back to the trailer. Never had a reason to, as far as she was concerned. It was just a box on wheels. A holding pen for the not-quite-dead.

  She didn’t bother knocking when she went inside. Her step-dad was passed out on the couch, snoring loudly while the TV hissed, full of static and snow. There was some muffled noises from the back of the trailer, a distinct squeaking sound. Like mattress springs.

  “Momma!” Dulcie shouted, then she pounded on a wall. The snoring on the couch continued, but the mattress springs stopped squeaking. A couple minutes later, her mother came out from a back bedroom, pulling a tank top into place.

  “That you, baby girl? Lord, it’s been ages!” she called out, enveloping Dulcie in a hug when she reached her.

  “It has. I just wanted to stop by, see how you were doing,” she replied, cringing and trying not to breathe through her nose.

  “How sweet! Want some tea?”

  Dulcie said yes, and they sat down at a tiny table in the front of the trailer. While her mother searched for some clean cups, a man came out of the back, loudly clearing his throat while he did up his pants. When he finally dislodged whatever it was that was bothering him, he spit it onto the floor, then nodded at the women in the kitchen.

  “Ladies,” he said, then winked at Dulcie before heading out the front door.

  If I pulled the stove out of the wall, it would rip open the propane hose. One spark, and this place wouldn’t exist anymore. Did I bring any matches?

  Her mom poured them both glasses of sweet tea. Then they chit chatted about brainless stuff. Her mother prattled on and on about a new Walmart that had just opened, how she was thinking of getting a job, how she hoped Matt would get a job.

  Dulcie talked less and less, letting her mother fill in the gaps. She stared at the older woman, wondering what had happened in their lives to turn them into the people they were in that moment. Tessa Bottle was a shell of a human being, only half-alive at best. She sucked dick for crack, fucked strangers for meth, and she didn’t even hardly do the drugs herself – almost all of it went to her husband.

  Why was she such a shadow of a person? Dulcie didn’t have one single memory of her mother being decent. Being full. Maybe she’d given it all to her children, maybe they’d sucked the life from her. Sometimes, Dulcie felt like she was overflowing with life. Like she was so full of energy and ether and dark matter, she might explode at any moment.

  “… proud of you, being with a boy like him,” her mom’s voice cut into her thoughts.

  “I’m sorry, what?” Dulcie shook her head, dragging herself into the present.

  “I heard you were seeing the Masters boy. My daughter, with the mayor’s son! I can’t believe it. I always told you that you were pretty, didn’t I? Just need to do somethin’ with your hair once and a while, but other than that, so pretty,” her mother sighed, then reached out to fiddle with the end of Dulcie’s braid. She slapped her hand away.

  “Thank you, I’ll be sure to remember that next time we go out on a date,” she joked.

  “Does he … does he have a lot of money?”

  Ah, there it was. Dulcie had wondered how long it would take. The conversatio
n had been way too normal up until that point. She looked around, then leaned close and smiled conspiratorially.

  “He does. I moved into that big house of theirs. Momma, it’s gorgeous. So many bedrooms, we don’t even know what to do with them all. He buys me presents and takes me places, it’s … it’s like a dream,” she sighed.

  Or a nightmare. Hard to tell.

  “That’s wonderful, darling. You know, things have been awful rough around here. Your step-daddy hurt his back, y’know, and hasn’t been able to work at the factory, and Matt, well, he’s just so sick, baby. We could really use your help,” she told her. Dulcie frowned and nodded.

  “Of course, Momma. All you had to do was say something, I feel awful.”

  She dug into her messenger bag and pulled out her wallet. Con had given her five hundred dollars that morning. She was supposed to be saving it in case of an emergency, but she knew it would serve a better purpose right in that moment. She took out the bundle of twenties and slid it across the table. Her mother’s eye almost bugged out of her head.

  “Oh my lord, baby, thank you! Thank you so much! Tell that man thank you,” she gushed as she grabbed at the money. There was a creak from behind them and when Dulcie looked over her shoulder, it was to see her step-father on his feet, watching the whole transaction.

  “Yer boyfriend is awful generous,” he said, his voice full of suspicion.

  “He is,” Dulcie agreed, then she stood up. “I have to go now.”

  Her mother made a big production of saying goodbye, all without looking up from the money. Dulcie finally just walked out, mid-sentence. When she stepped outside, it was to find Matt standing next to her car. He was smoking a cigarette and dropping the ashes onto her hood. She sighed and walked towards him. She’d hoped to run into him, but would’ve preferred it to be inside. She could only hope he’d ask her mother what the visit had been about; hope he’d investigate a little.

  “Visiting Mommy and Daddy?” he asked. She came to a stop in front of him.

  “Look,” she started. “I left them a lot of money. There’s more to come, if you leave me alone.”

  “Nah, that wasn’t part of the deal, remember? I never said anything about giving Mom money,” he chuckled, then blew a stream of smoke in her face.

  “Matt, you don’t understand. I can’t … I can’t do what you want,” she hissed.

  “You’ll do whatever I say, or I’m gonna run right to the fucking cops,” he threatened.

  “I can’t! Matt … he’ll … he’ll kill you,” she whispered.

  He suddenly grabbed her by the throat and swung her around, pinning her against the vehicle. She held her breath as he leaned in close.

  “Who, rich boy!? He ain’t got the balls,” he growled. She shook her head.

  “He does. He told me so. He found out what happened, he has it all planned out,” she choked out the words.

  “What fucking plans?”

  “Please, Matt, just believe me. Just take the money, and no one will get hurt.”

  He slammed her back again, then raised the lit cigarette to her face. She stared as it got closer and closer, her eyelashes almost brushing the ash that was threatening to spill onto her cheek.

  “You fucking tell me what rich boy has planned, or someone will get hurt right now,” he assured her. She gasped for air.

  “He said he’s gonna find you and make you pay. Gonna bulldoze this whole place to the ground, with you in it. Then he’s going to bury you out by the train tracks,” she wheezed.

  He backed away and she bent in half, loudly sucking in air.

  “Fucker thinks he can kill me? Thinks a fucking rich boy could kill me!? That motherfucker. Thinks he can fucking buy me off with his money, thinks he can threaten my home,” Matt was growling as he paced back and forth. Dulcie finally stood upright, rubbing at her throat.

  “I’m serious, Matt. He’s dangerous. He’ll hurt you, he’ll hurt them,” she insisted as she nodded her head at the trailer.

  “Fuck that. You go tell that asshole I’m gonna come to his house and fuck him up. How would he like that? Maybe I’ll fuck his little princess girlfriend, right in front of him,” he suggested, moving close to her again. She slid down the side of the car.

  “Just take the money. I left five hundred dollars inside,” she told him.

  “Five hundred!?”

  “Yeah, he gave it to me this morning, I -”

  “That motherfucker just gave you five hundred dollars?”

  “Well, yeah. His parents, they’re well off. I thought … I thought maybe if you had it, you would calm down,” she suggested. A wicked smile spread across his face.

  “Oh, I’m calm. I’m real fuckin’ calm.”

  “Please, Matt. He’s crazy. I’m really scared,” her voice dropped into whisper. He finally looked her in the eye.

  “Good. You should be. Now go tell that asshole that he should be scared.”

  27

  The smell hit Dulcie the moment she walked into Con’s house. She started to gag and she turned in a circle, looking around for him.

  “Sorry,” he called out, and she looked up to find him jogging down the stairs. “Sorry about the smell. I’m not sure which is worse.”

  “Is that alcohol? It smells like a vodka factory!” she snapped, holding her sleeve over her nose. His voice was loud as he laughed.

  “I wish.”

  “And what is that … that … god, what is that!?” she wasn’t able to articulate what the other smell was – just that it was the most vile odor she’d ever encountered.

  “Oh, yeah. You didn’t smell it last night cause I left him in the shed. I put him at the table – seemed fitting,” Con said by way of an explanation. Dulcie turned to look in the dining room and instantly started retching.

  The table cloth and dishes were still in a mess on the floor. Several chairs were overturned, including Con’s, but not Dulcie’s. Her chair had been placed upright again, and now held an occupant.

  Jebediah Masters once again sat at the head of his dining room table. Though of course, he probably looked much worse than he had the last time he’d been there. He’d been dead and buried for two months – the night before, while Dulcie had painted their heart, Con had dug him up. She’d known what he’d been doing, but she hadn’t realized he was going to seat his dad at the table.

  “I can’t,” she gagged again. “I’m gonna … throw up.”

  “Squeamish? I’m shocked,” Con made fun of her, then moved past her into the dining room. He grabbed the tablecloth off the floor and draped it over the body.

  “No, not squeamish. Just … the smell … good god,” she tried to explain. It was too much, she really was going to vomit. She pressed both hands over her mouth and ran up the stairs. She made a beeline to the room with the heart and then she took great gasping breaths of air, smelling only the paint fumes.

  “Better?” Con’s voice was behind her.

  “A little,” she nodded her head.

  “Good. How did it go?”

  She turned around to face him.

  “I went to my mom’s place, I gave her all the money you gave me,” she started.

  “All of it!?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Jesus, Dulcie. Awfully fucking generous.”

  “Matt wasn’t there, I didn’t know what to do. I wanted to offer him the money, try to bribe him, but he wasn’t there. So I gave it to my mom, knowing she’d tell him about it. Then when I left, he was waiting outside,” she told him.

  “Did he try anything?” he asked. She nodded.

  “Threatened to burn my eye out with a lit cigarette. Told me you should be afraid of him. Told me he was going to make you watch while he raped me,” she laid it all out. Con clenched his teeth together for a second and took several deep breaths through his nose.

  “I don’t think you have any idea how much I’m going to enjoy this,” he finally responded, his voice so low she had trouble hearing it. She swallow
ed thickly.

  “I think I have an inkling. What if something goes wrong? What if -” she started talking fast. He reached out and pinched her lips together.

  “Stop it. Be brave. Be who you were meant to be,” he whispered, then he leaned in and kissed her.

  Nothing on earth was like kissing Constantine. It was like for that moment, she was inside him. She was fused to him, one with him. He never held back, he poured every emotion he had into all his kisses. It blew her mind that he’d ever had casual sex, or that she had, for that matter, because there was nothing casual about what went on between them. It was as serious as …

  … as a heart attack.

  He moaned into her mouth and speared his hands into her hair, holding her at the angle he liked. He pushed her into place, and she let him, because what other choice did she have? Her back hit the wall and she could feel her clothing sticking to the still tacky paint. Could feel it matting her hair. She sighed and dragged her nails down his forearms before hooking her fingers around his biceps.

  “I never got to tell you,” she whispered when he finally pulled away.

  “What?” he asked, clenching his hands into fists while he kissed along the side of her jaw.

  “I think you’re beautiful. That’s why I could never draw your face. I could never do you justice. You’re the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen. I just wanted you to know that,” she blurted out.

  He stopped kissing her and stood back a little so he could stare into her eyes. His beautiful blue eyes, surrounded by such dark lashes. He’d gotten a buttery tan over the summer, though he was nowhere near as brown as her – he was naturally fair skinned, and it suited him. His brown hair was messy and wavy, probably in need of a cut, but she liked it. It was a little wild, a look he wore well. Her eyes filled with tears and she moved her hands to his chest, pressing them over his heart.

  “Little girl,” he sighed. “You have got to start trusting me.”

  “I do,” she snapped, and a tear finally spilled over onto her cheek. He was quick to wipe it up with his thumb.

  “Then trust me when I say we’ll get out of this just fine. Just trust me, and do everything I said, and don’t be scared, and we’ll be just fine,” he assured her.