by Carver Pike
“D…d…don’t d…do that,” I said.
“Do what?”
“Th…th…think I d…don’t want to h…hear you,” I said. “I un…un…understand.”
“Do you?” she asked as she turned and faced me on the sidewalk.
She took my other hand in hers so that both of our hands were joined at our sides. She was shorter than me and had to glance up to look in my eyes. She was adorable. I could see the pain she was feeling. It reminded me so much of my own. I nodded my head to tell her that I did understand. She’d never know how much I understood the feeling of loneliness, but hopefully she believed me.
“I’m always alone,” I said. “Always.”
Jane cocked her head to the side and looked up into my face quizzically.
“Oh my God,” she said.
“Huh?”
“You didn’t stutter,” she said. “It’s the first time I’ve heard you talk and not stutter.”
She raised our hands so we were doing our own personal cheer, right there on the sidewalk, two doors down from a liquor store. The owner walked out onto the street and rolled down his security gate while we celebrated our short victory. Short because the stutter returned right after.
“You d…d…did it,” I said.
“We did it,” she argued. “Stick with me. Seems I can overcome anything.”
She winked at me and I loved her joke. Only a woman who’d gone through as much as she had would be able to come out the other end with jokes up her sleeve. Her positive attitude was infectious. It was hard to believe she was the woman Nikki found crying in a diner booth. Not this girl. Jane was something else entirely. Maybe she only needed the right tattoo to change her mind. Speaking of tattoos…
“H…h…how does it f…fa…feel?” I asked as I pointed at her breasts.
“My face is up here,” she said.
I lifted my gaze and realized she was joking again. She was great. Nothing seemed to bother her. Then it seemed that maybe something was. She looked down at her feet.
“The t…t…tattoo I mean,” I said. “D…d…does it hurt?”
With her head still lowered, she looked up at me and that devilish grin from earlier returned.
“A little,” she said, “but this girl’s got a lot of fight in her. You think you’ll like it when it’s done?
“W…w…will I g…get the chance to s…s…see it?” I asked.
“Absolutely,” she promised. “But in the meantime, I’ve got kids in bed right now and I don’t know how much I trust their deadbeat father. You mind walking me the rest of the way home?”
We walked hand in hand in silence the rest of the way. It wasn’t until we reached her home that things got even better.
“You know,” she began, “One way you won’t have to talk so much is if we exchange phone numbers and chat through text and stuff.”
I’d been thinking of a way to ask for her phone number all damn night. I’m not a coward and it’s not like I’d never had to do this before, but everything about Jane felt different. The rule book on dating could be thrown out the window with her. She deserved special treatment. It seemed special meant letting her take the lead in this situation. I appreciated her letting me off the hook. She handed me her phone with the contact list already open. I typed my name and phone number and handed it back to her. She sent me a message. My phone made the sound of a beer cap being twisted off and dropped.
“Classy,” she said as she nodded at my phone.
Note to self: change your notifications tone later. Pick a fucking bird tweeting or a bell chiming or something, you dummy.
I was about to check her message when she grabbed my shoulder and leaned up to kiss my cheek.
“Don’t read it now. Read it on your way home.”
With that, she passed me a roll of her fingers kind of wave and disappeared into her house. As if thrust into a ridiculous musical film, I was hit with the urge to take a few jogging steps and then leap into the air and kick my heels together. I didn’t do it, but I wanted to. I’d never felt so good after talking to a woman. Jane made my heart go pitter patter and I couldn’t wait to be near her again.
To make sure she didn’t peek out her window and see me checking my phone, only because that would take away any cool points I’d earned, I waited until I’d rounded the corner and was away from any of her windows before I looked. Her message filled my heart with hope. It read:
Jane: You’re a good man and a bad boy all at the same time. Sometimes a girl wants the best of both worlds. Don’t leave me hanging.
I had no intention of leaving her hanging. I couldn’t wait to see her again. I wrote her back.
Kevin: You deserve the best of all worlds. You’re already on my mind.
For a second, I’d found peace and only wanted to go home and climb into bed while the smile was so fixed on my face. Then I thought of my brother and the beating he’d received. If I’d walked away then, I never would have ended up in jail. Ivory was a big boy who could easily handle himself. Plus, if asked, I knew he’d tell me to let it go. He’d tell me to stay far away from the troublemakers who’d hurt him so badly.
But I didn’t ask. I didn’t need to. What Ivory had to say wasn’t important. These thugs deserved payback, until they felt the pain they’d caused my brother. Until they walked the streets with their sides bandaged and their faces mangled, they wouldn’t quite understand the mistake they’d made. But I would make them understand it. I only had to make a phone call to Chunk to find out where they hung out. Chunk had eyes and ears everywhere. The Iron Claw MC kept tabs on the streets and since my brother had already cleaned Red’s floor with the punks once before, I knew the club would have some idea where the assholes had come from.
I stopped by our apartment while I waited for Chunk to get back to me. I could have easily gotten access to a gun, but guns were a sure way to end up in prison and that wasn’t my plan. Punks like these weren’t likely to call the cops as long as nobody died. I made my way quietly through the apartment searching for weapons that would do the trick. Ivory’s bedroom door was closed and I didn’t want to wake him. From under my bed, I retrieved a lead pipe and from a toolbox in the kitchen cupboard, I found a hammer. I was on my way out the door when I heard the loud moan of a woman.
What the fuck? Nikki?
The last time I’d seen them he was supposed to walk her home the way I’d walked Jane home. Only I’d left my girl back at her place with only a sweet exchange of texts to show for it while my brother seemed to be fucking the shit out of his date. I crept closer to Ivory’s bedroom door and listened. He was definitely fucking somebody. His grunts told me that but then I heard the woman’s sighs again and heard him say her name, “Valerie.”
My brother was in the room fucking the girl tied to the thugs I was about to hunt down. I considered banging on the bedroom door and yanking the little twit out of his room by her hair. She had to know where they hung out. If she was that concerned about my brother, she should have called the cops and had the guys turned in. She didn’t fucking care about him. Nobody cared about him the way I did and I was about to prove it.
I left the apartment wearing a dark jacket that allowed me to cover my head with a hood. I tucked the hammer in my waistband and slid the lead pipe up my sleeve. I was out in the car when Chunk called. He’d tracked them down in less than an hour. Impressive. One of the guys owned an old shitty house in a rough neighborhood. Chunk offered to help, saying he needed some action, but I knew this was something I needed to do alone. Chunk and his buddies would make a huge statement. They wouldn’t walk away without the entire neighborhood knowing the Iron Claw MC had retaliated for something personal.
This was my battle, not theirs. This was something that started the moment these punk motherfuckers waltzed through my tattoo parlor doors drunk and talking shit. They needed to know that wasn’t okay. Ivory had tried to teach them a lesson the first time they’d approached him in the bar. It clearly hadn’t been
enough. They’d needed to try again. So now I’d be doing the same. I’d try again and I wouldn’t leave any room for retaliation. They fucked up when they hurt my brother.
I drove into their neighborhood and made sure my car was parked far enough away that nobody would identify the license plate. With my hood over my head, I walked over to them. It was surprisingly easy. Six guys and three girls sat at a picnic table at a small park on the side of a crappy brick building. One of the guys and his girl passed a bong back and forth between them. It seemed the cops didn’t pass through the area often. Perfect.
“Yo, dude!” Davey said as I approached.
I recognized him from that night in the shop. He wouldn’t recognize me. He’d barely seen me at all.
“Why you ridin’ up on us like this?” Davey added.
His goons stepped away from the table, leaving Davey and the girls at the bench. None of their features were in focus. My mind had already begun to fragment and blur. One of them came at me as I was sliding the pipe from my sleeve. I swung upward and hit him at the bottom of his chin. His head jerked upward and his body went with it.
A second guy came at me from the other side but I’d already retrieved my hammer and struck him straight down at the crown of his head. The sounds are what I remember most. Crack…smack…bash…
I blacked out and before I knew it I was in my car speeding away from the scene. I knew I’d hurt them badly but I couldn’t remember exactly what I’d done to them. I still had the hammer and the pipe. I’d thrown them into the backseat of my car. My mouth was running about a mile a minute, mumbling words I didn’t recognize. I scared myself when I looked into the rearview mirror and saw the look in my eyes. I wasn’t normal. Something was definitely wrong with me. My legs shook and my hands trembled on the steering wheel.
They’ll never hurt you again, Ivory. They’ll never hurt you again. I promise. They’ll never hurt you again. I promise. I promise. I promise they’ll never hurt you.
When I arrived back at the apartment, Ivory was waiting for me. I’d tried to enter quietly and I even kept the lights off. I’d expected him to be busy with Valerie or maybe passed out in an exhausted post-sex slumber, but he was there waiting for me.
“Kev,” he said as he flipped on the hall light.
Silence. Then…
“What the fuck happened to you?” he asked. “Were you in a strip club again?”
I didn’t remember getting hurt and I didn’t remember feeling any pain, but the look on Ivory’s face said otherwise. Apparently those cowards had gotten a hit or two in on me. As Ivory stepped closer to me I did suddenly notice my jaw was sore. I knew my brother was waiting for an answer, but I wasn’t prepared to give him one. I hadn’t expected to see him at all so I hadn’t prepared a lie.
“Kev, I’m serious. What happened?”
“I g…g…got in a f…fight,” I said. “I’m okay.”
I wasn’t in the mood to talk about it and I definitely wasn’t in the mood to answer all his questions so I went to my room. He followed me.
“Where did this happen, man?” he said. “And why didn’t you call me? You know I would’ve been there in a second.”
“You…you…you’re already h…hurt,” I said. “I’m okay.”
I just wanted to be left alone so I could go to sleep. Part of me wanted to yell out, “I kicked their fucking asses, bro,” but I knew he’d only reprimand me. Every time I did anything violent or even got angry, he reminded me about the time he ended up in prison because of my temper. I wasn’t in the mood to listen to that now.
“This happened at a strip club?” he asked.
“Y…y…yes,” I lied.
If he thought I’d gotten jumped or robbed or happened to be on the losing end of some stupid fight, he might let it go. If he knew the truth, he’d definitely be pissed at me.
“For fuck’s sake, Kev,” he said. “What happened to your girlfriend?”
What fucking girlfriend are you talking about?
Then I remembered my lie about having a girlfriend I hung out with at night. It had been my lie ever since I’d begun sneaking over to see Mrs. Rebecca. My mind was jumbled and I still couldn’t think of a good answer so I chose to ignore him. I lay back on my bed and covered my face with my pillow. I felt Ivory remove my shoes and knew that he wasn’t as mad at me as I’d thought. He was simply concerned.
“Are you sure you’re okay?” he asked. “Maybe we should take you to a doctor.”
“D…d…did you go t…t…to one?” I asked.
“Fuckin’ smartass,” he said as he walked out of my room and flipped off the light.
Chapter 15 – Simple Simon
I’d learned my lesson the night I followed Nikki through the alley and ended up at the diner. Anyone could have seen me. It was a stupid mistake. Being sloppy is what landed many killers in prison and once in prison, killing wouldn’t be so easy. What would happen to me in there? In a world full of monsters, how would I measure up? How would I remain on the hunt when I could so easily become prey? Again, I thought of the demons, and how much they’d torment me if I were locked up and unable to give them the blood they demanded. The thought terrified me.
If going to prison scared me so much, you’d think I’d stop killing. Yet, even if I wanted to, the demons would punish me with painful reminders of the hold they had on me until I eventually gave in. I had nowhere to run, no escape plan, no way out. I would kill until I was dead or I’d suffer so badly I’d wish I was.
As I worked on my new mask in my apartment, these were the thoughts running through my head. I won’t bore you with specifics, but I bought an old trick-or-treating mask and wrapped it in a black gauze-like cloth until I was satisfied I could slink through the darkness and pounce on victims without any witnesses identifying me later. I’d no longer stalk the alleyways with nothing but a fedora and a trench coat.
I wore my all-black getup with my new black mask as I hid in the shadows of the alley that sat somewhere in the middle of The Motor Quill tattoo parlor and Club Boom Town, the place my victim would be headed to after getting his tattoo touched up. This time, I had my hunting knife at my side again, but instead of a baggy full of cloves, I had my next pumpkin pie ingredient. Sloshing quietly in my cargo pants pocket was a small can of sweetened condensed milk.
When he stepped out of The Motor Quill, he had a pep in his step. He was excited about his ink and I assumed he couldn’t wait to show it off to whatever woman was lucky enough to make it into his bed that night. That’s how all these players rolled. He had no class. Not real class anyway. He was a new breed, a metrosexual kind of man, almost as concerned about his neatly trimmed eyebrows and nicely groomed fingernails as the women he dated.
I followed quietly behind him and stayed close as he walked. He wouldn’t stroll too far, I knew that. He only wanted to make his way to a busier street so he could wave over a cab or maybe call an Uber. Guys like me would have walked the entire way. James would have done the same. However, pussies like this wouldn’t take the chance of breaking into a sweat. He wanted to be fresh and clean when he started his night.
This is why he stopped only a block or two away from The Motor Quill and lit up a cigarette as he threw a hand in the air and tried to catch the attention of a nearby cab. The driver didn’t pay him any attention and sped off down the street. I knew it wouldn’t be long before he caught a ride. I was lucky he’d missed out on this recent one, so I snuck up behind him quietly. Once I was close enough, I threw one hand around his neck and the other in front of his face. He struggled for a second before the chloroform kicked in and weakened him.
As I dragged him back into the dark alley, he kicked a few times and flailed his arms. He was a fighter, that’s for sure. I wondered if I’d underestimated him. I knew I should have brought syringes and doped him up like I had my previous victim, but no, I didn’t want this guy to look like some druggy who’d overdosed. My last kill hadn’t brought me the notoriety that I’d hoped for.
Nobody was talking about a serial killer on the street. That was a problem. I wanted to be known for what I was.
I’m a hardworking and dedicated serial killer deserving of some praise! Respect me or you shall fall beneath my blade.
Once I had my victim dragged far enough back in the alley, I put an end to his incessant struggling by shoving my 10-inch blade into his gut. I yanked it across his belly, ripping through the skin. His abdomen was tough so I sawed back and forth, forcing him open and watching as blood and other bodily fluids ran out and onto the pavement. The jerking of his body and the guttural groans coming from his throat brought a smile to my face.
It didn’t take long at all for him to stop twitching. Once dead, I threw his body down on a pile of black garbage bags and reached into my pocket to pull out the can of condensed milk.
As soon as my hand touched my pants, I regretted it. I’d have to clean these fucking pants and get the blood off of them later. Plus my gloves were completely covered in this pussy’s guts. It was too late to stop now so I shoved my blade into the can. I pulled it out and did the same on the other end to allow it to breathe. Then I held the milk over the wound on his stomach and poured the contents of the can out all over him. It still wasn’t the effect I was going for so I used my glove-covered hand to push as much of the milk as I could into his wound.
The alley was dark but I imagined if I could see, he might look like some kind of strawberry and cream treat. The white mixed with the red and running all over the ground like some kind of fucked up ice cream sundae.
I am a sick bastard, but my second ingredient is complete.
I’d used cloves and sweetened condensed milk. What else makes up a pumpkin pie? Cinnamon…eggs…pumpkin pie mix…sugar maybe? I couldn’t remember Mrs. Rebecca’s recipe but it didn’t matter. I only needed my foster family to tie it all together. I wondered how long it would take for the authorities to catch on to what I was doing. Then what? Would they put it on the news? Would they ever get the word out that Simple Simon was on the rampage, making pie out of his victims?
