HOT as F*CK

by Scott Hildreth

  I shrugged my shoulders. “I might.”

  “Let me know,” he said with a nod. “And that’s a mean left hook you’ve got.”

  I nodded my head toward him as he turned away. “Appreciate it.”

  “But you need work, a lot of work,” he growled over his shoulder as he walked away.

  As I stepped away from the ring and toward the locker room, I considered what he asked. I had planned on leaving Kansas, coming to Texas for seven to ten days, and going back to Kansas. Considering Ripp’s situation and my need to find an outlet for my frustrations associated with the war, maybe making a few changes would be in my benefit.

  As Erik and I changed clothes, I made up my mind. I didn’t say anything to him just yet, but I decided to stay in Austin.

  At least for a while.

  I knew one thing for sure – the more space there was between my ex-wife and me, the better off I would be.

  Chapter Two Hundred Fifty-Three

  Summer 2014, Austin, Texas, USA

  The MC rode back to Kansas, leaving me in Texas. It was understood when the time came to start a chapter in Austin, I would be the president of the chapter. After a few trips back to Wichita to get my truck and most of my belongings, I was happily living in a rental house in the sunny state of Texas.

  I found the people of Texas to be quite different than the residents of Kansas, primarily due to their hospitality. While riding my motorcycle down less traveled county roads, off of the highways and interstates, everyone waved at me as if they knew me. While walking past someone in the grocery store I was generally met with a howdy or how are you doing? At first, I dismissed it to the people I was encountering being intimidated by me and their hospitality, at least in person, was done in an effort to comfort themselves. After multiple daily trips to the store to buy fresh fruit and vegetables, and seeing nothing change, I realized it wasn’t done out of intimidation or fear, but simply out of kindness.

  I quickly developed a friendship with Ripp, finding him to be someone who caused me to feel comfortable in his presence. His offered friendship was genuine, and although I would have guessed no one could be, he was funnier than Teddy. It was our common bond of dealing with the taking of life, however, that immediately brought us together.

  I found another friend in Shane Dekkar, and the old man that managed the gym but claimed to be nothing more than a trainer, Kelsey. Kelsey was gruff, unwilling to smile, and had an all business attitude, but as difficult as he probably was for most people to understand, I felt I knew exactly how he felt.

  His stern attitude was a front. He cared deeply about the men he trained, and he took their success or defeat as his own, leaving him no room for an outward friendship. Personally, I admired the man greatly. I found it entertaining that every time he saw me in the gym training, he asked what I was doing there. He fully realized what I was doing there, but his opinion was that I wasn’t going to stay in town for long, leading him to antagonize me about it.

  I felt a slight guilt, at least initially, about being away from Kansas, which I had always considered to be home. As time passed, I realized as an adult, I had spent all of my time at war, and if I had to claim a place as home, it would be in the war-torn country of Iraq. For the time being, I accepted Texas as my home, and did so without reservation.

  My mind seemed to quickly clear itself not of the images of war, but of thoughts of Suzanne. After considerable thought, the love I had always believed I felt for her was dismissed as comfort. I met Suzanne when I was young, and although I wouldn’t consider myself as ever being a foolish man, I came to believe I attached myself to her to replace what I was missing in my mother’s absence.

  Suzanne supported me. She comforted me when I came home from the war after each deployment, cooking me meals, holding me in her arms, and providing me an ear willing to listen and a mind hoping to understand, rarely challenging me or my thought processes.

  In short, she was a motherly figure to me.

  In the days leading up to and including Ripp’s trial, I felt different. I would never be able to change who I was or what I had done, but my mind, soul, and spirit felt as if they had opened up, revealing a new me. A person who had, in the almost two years since I had left Suzanne, become willing to allow myself to once again feel emotion and become more human and less mechanical.

  I knew I would always remain methodical, and slightly OCD in my behaviors, but I hoped the way I was feeling would remain for a lifetime, allowing me to be at peace with myself, the war, and the decisions I had made.

  I learned in the time I had spent with Shane that he met a woman who was in an abusive relationship, and that she eventually left, but only after her partner of ten years decided to beat her unconscious. At the time, Shane and the woman were simply good friends, and Ripp, as any true friend would, refused to let Shane react to the situation.

  He insisted on handling it himself, for fear if Shane tried to resolve it, it may tarnish his career as boxer, and more than likely would land him in jail. A true friend, doing what he felt needed to be done to protect his friend and brother.

  In dealing with Shane’s girlfriend’s abuser, Josh, Ripp lost his temper and hit the man in the face with a hammer, knocking out almost all of his teeth. He followed up by cutting off the man’s index finger with a pair of shears, and took the finger home as a prize.

  Hearing the story, I couldn’t help but laugh, because it sounded exactly like something I would have done. Now, however, with Ripp seemingly winning his trial against the charge of murder, the prosecution was calling the former lover of Shane’s girlfriend, the man with the missing finger, to the witness stand.

  It appeared the prosecutor felt the fingerless fool’s testimony would convince the jurors of Ripp’s desire to resort to violence in an effort to solve problems. The problem, in my mind, was not Ripp. It was the two men who had abused the women. One Ripp’s sister, and the other Shane’s girlfriend.

  The comparison between Ripp and me came easily, me protecting my Marines, and him protecting his sister and best friend. He was willing to go to any length, including taking a life to protect the people he loved.

  And so was I.

  Very few men shared our opinions, ability, and willingness to act. Although I had no experience in losing my freedom, I likened being in prison to being dead, and believed if someone like Ripp was going to spend a lifetime in prison for protecting his sister, the sentence should just as well be death.

  Watching a friend die wasn’t something I could ever do.

  I sat in a park south of the South Congress Bridge and waited for sunset. 750,000 pregnant female bats showed up every spring, each giving birth to one offspring. For the entire summer, 1.5 million bats lived under the bridge, coming out on a nightly basis to hunt for their food. The sight of the bats leaving the bridge was peaceful for me, horrifying to some, and a ritual for others.

  There was no doubt people’s perception of the nightly event was different. Each night, the bats flying out from underneath the bridge by the hundreds of thousands at the same time darkened the still sunlit sky to black, providing a perfect comparison between dark and light. Many considered the bats evil, carriers of disease and transmitters of rabies. I found them to be far from it – a necessary evil of this earth – ridding the planet of bugs that were a greater nuisance than the bats themselves.

  As the sun lowered itself over the tops of the downtown buildings, a wave of bats blackened the sky as they flew in formation off in the distance to find their meal of a few flies or other flying bugs. I thought of the bat population doubling, and that for each adult bat, there was an offspring. Each year, from what I had learned, the mother bats returned, but the offspring did not; leaving the parent and the child separated for a lifetime.

  As much as I distanced myself from some, distancing myself from my true friends or family for a lifetime seemed like an impossible task, and as I watched the last of the bats flying out over the river, I realized I had,
although not necessarily intentionally, separated myself from my father since the end of the war.

  Be it from embarrassment or from a desire to keep to myself regarding the events of the war, I differed very little from the bats. I sat, staring at the bridge, realizing the bats would soon return to their home – but wondered when, or if, I ever would. After a few more minutes, the sun went down completely, and the sky darkened into blackness.

  I stood, walked to my motorcycle, and once again felt as if I was right where I needed to be.

  In the home I had created for myself.

  Chapter Two Hundred Fifty-Four

  Summer 2014, Austin, Texas, USA

  I parked a considerable distance from the home and walked up the block. As I approached the driveway, I verified the address, walked to the garage, and removed the length of wire from my pocket. After fishing it through the upper trim on the garage door, I released the security latch, raised the door, and walked inside.

  The entire process took no more than a few seconds. Breaking into someone’s garage took a matter of seconds, and as long as they left their door from the garage to the house open, getting in the home took no more than turning a door handle. It amazed me how people never forgot to lock their front or rear door to the home, but historically left the door leading to the garage unlocked.

  I walked to the door leading into the home, turned the handle, and grinned as it opened.

  Based on my study of Josh, he should have been arriving in roughly thirty minutes. I calmly walked into the home, sat down on the living room couch, and waited for him to come home.

  As I heard the key in the front door, I slumped in the seat and waited for him to come. After confirming he was alone, I stood from the couch and began to walk in his direction.

  “What the fuck? I’ll give you whatever you want,” he said, no doubt confusing me for a burglar.

  Holding my pistol in my right hand to help convince him I was serious, I spoke calmly, but with a convincing tone.

  “I’m not here for your belongings. I’m here to make sure your testimony tomorrow doesn’t land my friend in prison,” I said as I walked toward him.

  “I uhhm, I…” he stammered as his eyes shifted to my pistol.

  “Listen, I’m going to make this simple,” I said as I placed my pistol on the kitchen counter.

  “I won’t testify,” he murmured.

  I gazed over the counter and nodded my head. “Yes, you will.”

  “And,” I paused and shook my head from side to side as I studied him. “Unless I ask you to speak, do not speak again, or I will cut off one of your ears.”

  His eyes went wide as he raised his right hand to the side of his face, touching the bottom of his ear as I continued.

  “That, Sir, is not an idle threat. It is a promise. I’ll add it to the collection I already have. Make note that I do not like you or those like you. People like you make me feel sick, is that understood?” I said.

  I sighed as I pulled my knife from the sheath.

  I glared at him, wanting acknowledgement of my question.

  “Nod your head,” I said.

  It wasn’t my intention to try and intimidate him by how I acted, or how I appeared, only make him aware of his options. The more I looked at him, however, the more I grew to dislike him.

  He nodded as I placed the knife on the counter beside the pistol.

  “I’m sure you still have nightmares about our mutual friend visiting you and relieving you of a finger and a few teeth. Smile and hold up your hand,” I said as I lifted my chin slightly.

  I had yet to see Ripp’s handiwork, and had only heard stories. Josh was obviously scared to death, but did his best to fight against the urge to cower and piss his pants as he forced himself to smile, revealing snow white teeth. As I admired his porcelain replacements, he held up his right hand, which was missing seventy-five percent of the index finger.

  A small, almost unnoticeable stub remained.

  As I studied his missing finger, I nodded my head. “That cleaned up quite nicely. And those teeth look remarkable. They’re nice, really nice. Well, for what it may be worth, Josh, I’m not at all a pleasant person.”

  His eyes remained fixed on me, filled with uncertainty and fear.

  I’m not like Ripp, “I continued. “You were given an opportunity by our mutual friend to keep your mouth shut. You made a poor decision, and chose to speak. I do not know, nor do I fucking care to know the circumstances surrounding your involvement with the authorities. I will say this. I hate most cops about as much as I hate you.”

  As I pressed my palms against the edge of the countertop and flexed my biceps his eyes fell to my chest and quickly raised to meet mine as I began to speak again.

  “Now, your testimony. You spoke to police, and I suspect you told them of the removal of your finger, the ass whipping, and the fact your teeth were knocked out. They now expect you to testify tomorrow regarding what happened and why. That, Sir, will not happen. I will not allow it. It will not. Do you understand me?” I asked.

  He remained silent.

  “Speak.”

  “Yes, I understand,” he responded.

  “Did you ever file a police report on your loss of teeth or finger?” I asked.

  “Speak,” I said after a few seconds of silence.

  He shook his head. “No.”

  “Until this particular case, did you or have you ever discussed with authorities your loss of teeth or the finger?” I asked as I ran my finger down the edge of the knife.

  “Speak.”

  “No, not until now.”

  I nodded my head as I studied the blade of the knife. “Alright. You will testify tomorrow. I will make clear what you will say. Phrase it how you prefer, but you will say this; you will state, when asked, that your association with Mr. Ripton is through your former girlfriend. You will further state that you chose to concoct an utter lie regarding the loss of your finger to attempt to get back at her, because she is friends with him. That, in effect, is all you will say.”

  He stood and stared as if confused.

  “Is that understood?” I asked as I rotated my wrist and twisted the blade of the knife back and forth.

  He nodded his head.

  “I need to hear it. Speak,” I sighed.

  “Yes. Understood.”

  The more I looked at him the more I wanted the world to be rid of him. My problem with eliminating him prematurely, as much as I wanted to, was that I historically gave everyone a chance to correct a mistake, my ex-wife included.

  It was a weakness of mine.

  I glared at him and continued. “You see. I find the entire process disappointing. You being smacked with a hammer and having a finger cut off has nothing to do with this case. Not one damned thing. One has nothing to do with the other. But, if the jury hears what you have to say, they’ll assume Ripp is a violent man and they’ll certainly side with the state. They’ll find him guilty. If you don’t testify, they may find him innocent. In all honesty, they should give him a good Samaritan medal for doing what he’s done. It irritates me to have to be here. People like you disgust me. You need to understand that.”

  He nodded his head. At least he was willing to entertain me.

  “Now. I will close with this. I like killing people. I really do. It’s the only fucking way I can make that God forsaken war make sense in my head. If I stop killing people, it means all the killing I did for years over there was wrong. And, killing people that wreak havoc on others must be God’s will for me, because the government paid me for over a decade to do it. I like to think it was justified, killing all of those people.” I paused and considered what I was saying. It seemed as I was speaking, I was not only convincing him of how I felt, but convincing myself.

  I was raised to understand killing was wrong. After all, it was one of the Ten Commandments.

  The Marines, at a time of war, took every adult male that was willing and capable and taught them how to kill. They d
idn’t teach Marines how to obtain a home loan or balance a checkbook. Upon my returning to the states, they didn’t encourage me to make any changes to my mental process regarding killing. They merely expected me to flip a switch and become human again. A lesson or class in how to un-do what they had spent so much time doing was necessary.

  “You know, the only way I can convince myself it was justified, all of the killing, that is, is to continue killing people that take from society. You’re a taker. And I administer justice by attempting to balance the scales. I do, however, believe people can change. I hope you’re one of them. I’m assuming Ripp’s previous visit left a little doubt in your mind. I want to remove that doubt. I want clarity,” I said with a nod of my head.

  I was convinced my speech was not only informative to him, but cleansing to me.

  “Are we clear?” I asked as I looked up from the blade of the knife.

  As he stood and silently stared, I felt as if I was playing Simon Says on the schoolyard as a child. “Jesus fucking Christ. Speak.”

  “Yes, Sir. I understand.”

  “Now, I will not be in court tomorrow. Would you like to know where I’ll be?” I asked as I picked up the pistol.

  He shook his head.

  “Humor me. Say you want to know,” I said with a laugh.

  He swallowed heavily and stared.

  “Speak,” I said.

  “I want to know where you’ll be tomorrow,” he said, his voice quaking as he spoke.

  “Josh, I’ll be where ever you go. But you won’t see me. You’ll never see me. If you testify as to any other facts than what we discussed here, I will find you. And, I can assure you of two things after I find you. One, I will torture you. And two, when I get bored with torturing you I will kill you. I will promise you those two things.”

  I placed the pistol into the holster and nodded my head sharply.

  “Oh, and one more thing,” I said as I slid the knife into the sheath.