Filthy F*ckers: The Complete Series Box Set

by Hildreth, Scott

“Thank you,” I said.

  “We all need that from time to time. You looked like it was time.”

  I didn’t say anything, but I liked the fact that he noticed. I wasn’t standing in wait for him to screw up, nor was I one of those people who sabotaged relationships, but I did expect at some point he’d do something stupid or inconsiderate.

  So far, however, he hadn’t.

  He reached in his pocket and pulled out his key ring. After fumbling with hit for a few minutes, he extended his cupped hand. “Here.”

  “What?”

  “Open your hand.”

  I did as he asked.

  He dropped a ring with two keys on it in my hand.

  I looked at the keys, and then at him. “What…”

  “One is a key to the garage, one is a key to the bike. If you ever need to relax, feel free to hop on and escape to wherever your mind needs to take you. Just lock up when you’re done, okay?”

  “But…”

  “Keep them.” He nodded toward my hand and then grinned. “I trust you.”

  It seemed ridiculous, but I felt like crying. “Are you sure?”

  He reached for my hand. “Yep.”

  He led me to the porch, and we sat down side by side. It was still early in the evening and the sun had yet to set, so sitting outside was nice.

  “The detective stopped by this morning,” he said.

  I spun to the side and gasped. “Oh shit. What did he say?”

  “He asked me the same questions you said he asked you. Then, he asked how I knew you and your mother. I told him we were old neighbors, and that I met you most recently after the abduction. I said I asked you what they looked like, but that you said you were blindfolded the entire time, just like we discussed. He left happy.”

  I looked at him in disbelief. “That was it?”

  He nodded. “Easy, peasy.”

  I glanced across the street. A young boy was working on an old car that didn’t have any wheels on it while one of his friends talked to him.

  “Can we go inside?”

  He stood. “Sure.”

  We went inside and sat down on the couch. As he relaxed into the cushion, he let out a sigh and draped his arms over the back of the couch. Before he had a chance to do or say anything, I straddled his thighs.

  He seemed shocked. I felt, at least for that moment, that I was in control. I rested my arms over his shoulders and smiled.

  Then, I closed my eyes. “Kiss me.”

  Softly and slowly, he complied, kissing me full on the lips. I returned the kiss, being slightly more aggressive than he was.

  I needed to find my new limit.

  His fingers raked through my hair as we kissed. Soon, my hands were plastered all over his body, attempting to feel each and every inch of his muscular physique.

  His arms felt like steel beneath my grip, and his chest, stone. I slipped my hand beneath his shirt, and lightly rubbed the tips of my fingers along the surface of his stomach muscles.

  I felt his finger trace along the edge of my jaw, around my chin, and up the other side. Having him touch my face while we kissed was comforting and sensual at the same time, and the combined feeling drove me insane.

  I continued to kiss him, anxiously waiting to see what was next. The sensation from his touch gently followed a path along my neck, to my shoulders, and then the length of my arm.

  I ground my hips against him lightly as we continued to kiss. When I finally reached a point that I knew I couldn’t go any further without having sex, I stopped and opened my eyes.

  He smiled.

  I kissed him lightly and smiled in return.

  “You make me comfortable,” I said.

  “You make me nervous,” he replied.

  “I feel like I’m fourteen.”

  He kissed me. “I feel like I’m in heaven.”

  “Me, too.”

  I rolled to the side, took a deep breath, and then sighed.

  He stood. “Want something to drink?”

  “Coffee?”

  He nodded. “Coffee sounds good.”

  “It’ll just take a second,” he said. “I’ve got one of those machines with the pods.”

  “Okay.”

  “Cream and sugar?”

  “Please.”

  While he was away I closed my eyes and tried to count the number of days since we had kissed the first time, but quickly became lost. Then, I tried to count the amount of times we had kissed. Again, in a matter of seconds, I was convinced I was forgetting something.

  “Here,” he said.

  I opened my eyes and reached for the cup. “Thank you.”

  He nodded and sat beside me.

  I took a drink of coffee, and then another. I turned to the side and smiled. “I think I’m okay.”

  He lowered his cup to his lap. “What do you mean?”

  “I’m comfortable with you.”

  “Good,” he said with a laugh. “You’re okay, and I’m far from it.”

  I wrinkled my nose. “What do you mean?”

  He took a sip of coffee. “You still make me nervous.”

  “Good.”

  His eyes narrowed slightly. “Why is that good?”

  “Because you’ve got plenty to be nervous about.”

  “Thanks.” He chuckled. “That made it worse.”

  There were a lot of things that could have entered my mind as we sat drinking coffee together. But only one did.

  Adam wasn’t put in my life to hurt me.

  The way he entered my life was a perfect example of who he was.

  He slayed monsters.

  And, on that night, he slayed what little remained of mine.

  Chapter Ninety-Five

  Cholo

  I don’t know what it was, and I suppose I never will, but something woke me up from a sound sleep.

  I fumbled to find the button on the side of my watch and then pressed it, illuminating the face.

  2:14.

  I cocked my head to the side and listened for any strange sounds, barking dogs, or late night auto repairs across the street. A dull humming sound from the kitchen stood as proof that my 30-year-old refrigerator was still operational.

  At the same instant I thought I heard the floor creak outside my bedroom door, it flew open, hitting the wall with a bang!

  Instinctively, I rolled to the side and reached for the nightstand.

  “Don’t do it, pendejo. I’ll put a bullet in jer leg,” a raspy voice said in a thick Hispanic accent.

  My eyes shot toward the voice. The silhouette of a man holding a pistol was enough to reassure me I needed to follow his demand. At his side stood two more men, each of which held assault rifles.

  I released the drawer and clenched my fist.

  Fuck.

  After my eyes adjusted, I could see that the two men with him had bandanas over their faces. He, however, did not. They pointed the barrels of their rifles at my chest, and he walked to the side of my bed wearing a shitty grin.

  As he leaned over the edge of my bed, I noticed the number 18 tattooed on the front of his neck.

  “I want my mahney and my chiva,” he said through his teeth. “And jer gonna geev it to me.”

  Then, everything went black.

  Chapter Ninety-Six

  Lex

  I was sure I wasn’t falling in love, but I was definitely falling in something. Thoughts of Adam consumed me, and every memory my mind resurrected was enjoyable in one way or another.

  “I’ll take the second special,” he said with a tooth revealing smile.

  He looked like a Silicon Valley executive. Dressed in a gray suit that was undoubtedly custom-tailored – and expensive – he wore a slight beard and his hair was a perfect mess. He scooted his chair away from the table slightly and looked me up and down.

  “The baked shrimp, scallops, and fish with the lobster sauce?” I asked, acting like I didn’t notice his eye-assault.

  He shot me an apprehensive look. “Is
it good?”

  I smiled. “You know, I could say it’s lovely, then you’d order it, and you’d be wondering while you waited for it to arrive if you’d made the right decision. You’d also probably wonder if I’d even tried it, wouldn’t you?”

  He flashed his teeth again. They were as perfect as his hair. “I don’t know,” he said. “Probably.”

  “Well, I have tried it. And although I won’t tell you everything on the menu is my favorite, I’ll tell you that one is one of my top three. It’s delicious, it really is. And, the scallops are huge.”

  “I’m convinced,” he said.

  “Today, it comes with the green beans. Are you okay with that, or would you like to substitute?”

  “Are they--”

  “If you like fresh green beans, you’ll love them.”

  “I’ll stick with the green beans.”

  “Anything else?”

  “This is going to sound awful, but you’re simply gorgeous,” he said.

  I forced a smile, and hoped it looked genuine. “Awe. Thank you.”

  “There is one more thing,” he said. His gaze shifted to my left hand, and then met mine.

  My number?

  I cocked my head to the side. “Yes?”

  “Your number. I’d regret it if I didn’t at least ask. I’d love an opportunity to see you away from work.”

  “I’m sorry,” I said. “I’m in a serious relationship.”

  He smiled and nodded. “He’s a lucky man.”

  “I don’t know about that,” I said. “But I’m a very lucky girl.”

  He grinned a shallow grin and moved his chair closer to the table.

  “I’ll bring some bread by. If you need more, just throw something at me to get my attention,” I said.

  He chuckled and raised his butter knife. “I’ll do that.”

  As I placed his order I thought of Adam, and what he might think if he knew the man asked me for my number. I decided he would think it was cute that it happened, and would appreciate my response. If the man asking had been disrespectful, I was sure his reaction would be otherwise.

  For some reason, there was a line out the door and halfway around the building, which had never happened. I was appreciative of all the business, but for two of us to keep up with 15 tables each was twice as much as I was used to.

  I scrambled to each of my tables, kept everyone feeling as important as I was able, and then took Silicon Valley his plate.

  “Oh.” His eyes locked on the plate. “Wow. They are huge.”

  I placed it in front of him. “There’s some extra lobster sauce on the side. Let me know if you need any more.”

  He looked up. “I will.”

  I glanced at his basket of bread. Although it was still over half-full, I asked nonetheless. “Are you okay on bread?”

  “I am.”

  I smiled. “Enjoy. And, feel free to throw the knife if you need anything.”

  He smiled in return and reached for his napkin.

  Being filled to capacity wasn’t terrible during lunch, because everyone seemed to come in at the same time. As a result, they finished their food at the same time, and left at roughly the same time.

  After dropping off half of my customer’s bills, people began to filter out. Their tables were immediately bussed and filled with a new customer.

  I scrambled to drop off menus, take drink orders, and then take food orders. After placing the orders for my newest customers, I glanced toward Silicon Valley.

  He was wiping his mouth.

  I printed his receipt and walked to his table.

  “Well?”

  “You were right,” he said. “It was marvelous.”

  I glanced at his plate. The dish of lobster sauce I’d given him was empty, and his plate was spotless.

  “I could drink that lobster sauce,” I said, although I knew never would. “Isn’t it good?”

  He nodded toward his plate. “I used it all.”

  “Ready for key lime pie?”

  “I couldn’t take another bite if I were forced,” he said.

  “Coffee?”

  “No, thank you.”

  “Is there anything I can get you?”

  He shook his head. “I’m fine, thank you.”

  “Thanks for not throwing the knife.” I placed his bill on the edge of the table. “Whenever you’re ready. Take your time.”

  He checked his watch and then smiled. “Thank you.”

  I smiled and turned away.

  “There is one more thing,” he said.

  I glanced over my shoulder. “Yes.”

  “You are breathtaking. I just want you to know that. Treat your spouse well. If he’s worth the salt in his sweat, he’ll return the favor.”

  I smiled. “Thank you. And, I will.”

  The lunch rush continued for some time, and when I looked back at Silicon Valley’s table, he was gone.

  I dropped off a drink order, and walked past his table to pick up his bill holder. Inside was a note written on the back of one of the receipts, and five $100 bills.

  My jaw dropped. His bill was slightly less than $50.

  I glanced over each shoulder, and then picked up the note. He’d written it in cursive, and the penmanship was perfect.

  Once in a great while we encounter someone that has a particular presence about them that doesn’t allow us to dismiss them from memory any time soon. You’re one of those people.

  Thank you for making my meal memorable.

  Take your spouse out on me with a portion of this money. Without doubt, he recognizes your beauty no differently than I have.

  Sorry if my honesty made you uncomfortable.

  If your situation ever changes, or if you ever get in a legal jam, feel free to give me a ring.

  Warm Regards,

  Jay Parsons

  239 336 4040

  I looked around the restaurant.

  He was nowhere to be found.

  My heart swelled with pride. I realized he wasn’t anything but a man who was blatantly honest about what he felt.

  In a sense, he was me.

  A person with no filter.

  I wondered what the legal jam part was about, but wasn’t about to call him and find out. I grinned and shoved the money, and the note, into my apron; knowing I’d cherish the note forever.

  In an hour, the rush was over and Sandy and I were in the break room.

  “That was insane,” Sandy said. “We’ve never been that busy. Did you see the line to get in?”

  “I couldn’t help but see it. It was out the door, and in front of the window.”

  “Good shift?” she asked.

  Including the tip Silicon Valley left, I had made just shy of $1,100. “It was great, yeah.”

  I picked up my phone and sent Adam a text, telling him about the tip, and that I wanted to take him to dinner.

  At the end of the shift, he hadn’t replied.

  I wasn’t concerned, he often didn’t reply when he was at work, and I expected he was immersed in his new project. The house in La Jolla was very important to him. He said it exposed him to an all new clientele, and the income from the jobs in that neighborhood would be four times what he was accustomed to.

  “Want to go get a drink somewhere?” Sandy asked.

  “I think Adam and I are going to go out to eat tonight, but I can go for a little bit. Until he texts me back, anyway,” I said.

  She looked at me funny. “Adam?”

  I laughed. “Cholo.”

  She stared at me, her face washed in disbelief. “His name’s Adam?”

  I sighed. “Yeah.”

  “I like that.”

  “Me, too.”

  We went to the Crab Shack together, talked about work, and had a beer. And then, another. Before I knew it, three hours had passed, and it was after 7:00.

  “I’m going to text you,” I said. “See if you get it.”

  She grabbed her phone. “Okay.”

  I sen
t her a smiley face. As soon as I pressed send, her phone pinged.

  “Got it.”

  “Send me one back,” I said.

  My phone beeped. Hoping it was Adam, and not Sandy, I glanced at the screen. A poop with eyes emoji stared back at me.

  I looked at her and sighed. “Nice.”

  “Is everything okay?”

  “I’m sure it’s fine,” I said. “He’s got a big job in La Jolla, and it’s pretty important. I’m sure he’s just busy.”

  “You want to get something to eat?”

  “No. I’ll just wait for him. He’ll show up sooner or later.”

  That night, I went to bed at 2:00 a.m. When I did, I still hadn’t heard from Adam.

  Not one word.

  He promised he wouldn’t hurt me. Ever.

  But, as I tried to fall asleep, my heart didn’t agree with him.

  Chapter Ninety-Seven

  Cholo

  It was like a scene from an old-school B rate thriller, and I couldn’t help but wonder if they got their ideas from some shitty low-budget film I had yet to see. If it was a movie that fueled their sickening procedures, I wished I had seen it.

  At least I’d have a little more advance warning on what torturous task was next.

  I’d been burnt with cigarettes until there were none left in the pack. That took an hour or so, and produced results that were far from satisfactory in the eyes of my new amigo.

  A butane torch followed, and although he’d burnt my thigh until the stench of my own smoldering flesh filled my nostrils, I couldn’t give him any information.

  I told myself I’d let him kill me. But, no differently than anyone else who was amongst the living, dying wasn’t my preference.

  Not in the shitty little storage building they’d taken me to, anyway.

  And not now.

  In the soul searching I’d done since the torture began, I learned that there were things I wished I had taken the time to say or do. If I had all of my unresolved issues settled, I’d bite my lip – and my pride – and let them take my life, leaving the earth like the man that I knew I was.

  As far as he knew, I spoke no Spanish. What little time I had to prepare for what they were going to do to me came between when he gave his instructions to his cronies, and when they began the procedure.

  He waved his tattooed hand toward my face. “Dientes. Jale sus dientes.”