The Killing Games

by Antony J Woodward

  “Ever.” Don promised.

  Chris wasn’t sure that would be the case, what if he broke Pierre’s heart? What if he and Pierre broke up? What if he - he stopped the thoughts, they were no good.

  “I’m sorry about last night, about shooting at you,” Don extended a hand towards Chris, but Chris was reticent to shake it. “I didn’t know, obviously.”

  Chris shook the man’s hand apprehensively and gently.

  “I’m pleased you missed,” Chris finally spoke. He’d concluded Don was the sniper in the park. “You might’ve saved my life instead…”

  “From that other guy…? The one I was trailing?” Dom had been trailing the German only because he was curious as to why no hitman had managed to succeed against the sixteen year old target. His first shot to kill the German had been deliberate, because he’d wanted to claim the kill as his own. The second was intended for Chris, but he’d missed. Not once during the scuffle had he realised his son was involved.

  “He was trying to kill us, or me…” Chris informed. There was no reaction in the elder man’s face, which was a little unsettling.

  “Where is he now?”

  “Disposed of,” Chris shrugged giving Pierre a little glance.

  “I’m sorry about the gunshot…” Pierre coughed, it seemed his blind firing in the direction of the sniper had hit the target - it just happened to be that target was his father.

  Don laughed, a deep belly laugh. “You little shit, lucky shot!” he playfully punched his son on the arm.

  Chris felt the atmosphere that had been so frigid and tense, suddenly ease off. He saw Pierre’s mother beaming at her family before her, watching her husband laughing with his son - and it was a strange family moment to experience. But it appeared to be an odd little family altogether.

  Suddenly a warm hand encompassed his own and he found it was Pierre’s mother, she smiled warmly at him and said “Welcome to the family kid,”

  --------------------------------------------

  Chris and Pierre never made it to college, instead the two of them disassembled the black van, helped by Don. It was a strange bonding experience but Chris quite enjoyed it. Despite the volatile introduction, he eventually found himself quite relaxed with Don. He felt accepted, embraced even. It was during the course of the day that he learnt that Don wasn’t just any assassin, he was referred to as “The Jackal” and he was quite infamous in the dark circles of murder for money. It suddenly made the way the world reacted to Pierre make perfect sense, he was the son of the legendary Jackal.

  Don had been relatively easy to talk to, so easy that Chris had found himself confessing the fate of the previous hitmen who had come after him. Don was quietly impressed, and perhaps a little disturbed that his son had found a boy who was more than capable of murder. When he invited Chris for dinner at the weekend, he found himself understanding what Pierre saw in the boy. He was polite, charming and not of the same ilk as the rest of the world. It made him think of his own wife, his beloved Jacqui. How tempestuous and strong she had been when they‘d first met, she was the daughter of a rather powerful gangster. He’d barely looked twice at her, having sworn off any romantic endeavours in fear of having a weakness in his line of work. That didn’t mean she felt the same. It had driven her crazy, because when Jacqui wanted something she wouldn’t stop till she got it. She had decided that the handsome rugged hitman everyone was nicknaming “Jackal” was going to be hers. She introduced herself into Don’s life by breaking into his apartment and waiting for his return in nothing but a silky negligee. And somehow he ended up falling under her spell, thirty years later and they were still happily married. A neat little family; them two and their son. She was his rock, his equal half and the one he loved more than anything else in the world. Nothing beat coming home to her.

  When he looked at Pierre he saw the same form of love burning in his eyes for Chris as he had had when he was young. He only hoped that their young love survived the twists and turns of youth.

  As Don had watched Pierre drive off, taking Chris back home, he’d reflected on the potential in this long haired boy. Perhaps he was the type of boy who might benefit from some training and skills? He was obviously talented, but he had been lucky this far.

  Don found his wife in the hallway as he turned from the door.

  “What?” she was grinning like a buffoon, looking sexy in her oversized grey jumper and nothing else. He felt his heart roll over as she giggled and swept her long dark hair off the side of her face.

  “You like the kid…” she was right, he did.

  “I think he’s a nice kid…” he agreed.

  “Good job you didn’t kill him last night,” she slinked close to him.

  “Definitely. But what are the chances?” it was the unanswerable question of the day.

  “But others are going to come for him…” she warned as she threw her arms around his neck. Her jumper rode up and he caught a flash of her pubic mound. His hands trailed down to her naked butt.

  “I’ll find out who set the bounty…” he promised.

  --------------------------------

  Upstairs in Chris’ bed Pierre was sleeping, clucking softly to himself.

  Chris had snuck out in the dark of the night and was in the studio, he needed a little time to digest the day. It had been another absurd twist, one that nobody could’ve predicted.

  But he was more comfortable with it now, now that he felt accepted by Don. He didn’t know what would happen should he and Pierre break up, but right now that wasn’t even a possibility. He smiled as he thought of Pierre, like he always did. That furry and warm sensation spread down from his heart.

  He was working with charcoal, sketching an image of Pierre laid naked in bed. The sight had been burnt into his memory banks and he was working deftly.

  Outside it was raining and he’d left the door open so he could enjoy the sound of it. He loved the sound of rain, it made him feel at ease. He felt good. Blissful even.

  “Hey,” it was a voice intruding on his private thoughts. He turned and jumped, stood in the door way drenched from the rain was Jon Clemmons. “Sorry to intrude like this,”

  He stepped into the studio and shook his hair, scattering water like a canine.

  Chris was surprised to see him, let alone in his studio.

  “What are you doing here?” he placed the charcoal down and tied his dressing gown tighter.

  “I just wanted to see you, before I went…”

  Where was he going? Jon flashed a warm and affectionate smile as he stepped closer. He was dressed in a dirty grey raincoat and it was dripping over the wooden floor.

  “I’ve been thinking, and you kind of made me realise that I’m living in the past…” he began, his eyes drew to Chris’, “I loved Jason, and nobody can ever take that away from me. But that doesn’t mean I need to stay here and torture myself in his absence…”

  Chris didn’t know what to say, his brow furrowed.

  “So, I just wanted to say thank you. You kinda shocked me into accepting the truth. I’m gonna move to the coast, start again. Start somewhere where nobody knows me,” he came close to Chris, looking down upon him. A droplet of water landed on Chris’ naked knee.

  “So I’m sorry for intruding, I realise that stalking you here and coming in the middle of the night is kinda crazy. But, I just need to tell you…” his hand lifted and touched Chris’ cheek.

  Slowly the drenched older man leant down and placed a gentle kiss on his lips, but Chris’ didn’t return it. “I owe you, you fixed me…” and he smiled.

  Chris didn’t have a response, his puzzled look spoke volumes instead. But it didn’t affect Jon, he only smiled broader. He slowly began retreating out of the room. His words echoed in Chris’ mind. He’d fixed him? Chris was the one responsible for breaking him, and now he had fixed him? He opened his mouth as if to say something, but nothing came out. Normally he would’ve seized the moment to inflict pain, he could’ve told Jon that
he was the one who exposed the love affair, but he didn’t. He didn’t want to.

  “Here’s my number, if you’re ever at the coast, give me a ring.” Jon hovered at the doorway, he placed a card on the nearby counter. He hesitated before turning out into the rain, almost like he yearned to cross over and be naked with Chris again. As quickly as that want came, it frittered away into the ether. “Thank you Chris.”

  And he was gone.

  Leaving Chris alone once more. He watched the rain fall for a while, uncertain how he felt about Jon’s intrusion. He’d fixed him, but it had never been his intention. He’d gone to Jon only to satiate his curiosity, the second time to use his dick as a means of escaping the emotional torrent he’d found himself in. Now he had fixed him…

  Chris turned back to his half finished outline of Pierre.

  He was surprised that since he’d embraced the chaos, his life had opened up to new and warming experiences. Jon’s intrusion made him wonder how it was that even in chaos there was a rhythm to life. He had come to Melun, circled directly back into the fragments of lives he’d obliterated and he’d even somehow remedied some of the damage. Perhaps what was more striking was that Chris hadn’t taken that moment to devastate Jon. He could have decimated him with the truth, yet he hadn’t. It hadn’t interested him, it didn’t appeal.

  Slowly he gazed at his charcoal stained hand.

  He had changed and he simply found it astounding. There was a whole new Christopher built on the remains of the broken boy his mother had neglected. He deposited the charcoal and stepped into the rain. Suddenly he didn’t want to be alone anymore, he wanted to be with the boy he loved…

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN:

  The next evening Chris was storming the streets, the phone call ringing in his ears and goading his rage. He turned down the street and marched up to the door.

  It was Samuel who had rang, and he’d ordered Chris to return the drugs he’d stored with him. He’d not given Chris chance to air his grievances about being used as the bait at the house party, he’d simply told Chris he wanted his drugs back and then he’d hung up.

  He’d tried to ring Alexis numerous times, but there was no answer. He kept getting her too-cool-for-school disinterested voicemail.

  So he was fuming as he knocked hard on Alexis’ front door. She was going to talk to him!

  He had forgotten about the whole missing drugs issue for a brief moment, being too wrapped up in Pierre’s family, but now it was centre of his focus again. He wanted those drugs back, so he could give them to Sam and be free. He was outright convinced that Alexis was the prime suspect.

  He heard footsteps and then the door opened.

  His rage hit a brick wall, it was not Alexis. In fact it was a tall man dressed plainly in a denim shirt and matching denim shorts. He was handsome, long face and large eyes. His hair was blonde and he was clean shaven. His face lifted up in friendly surprise.

  “Hello, are you calling for Alexis?” his voice was smooth.

  “Y-yeah,” Chris stammered. He was trying to gain control of his train of thoughts, but it was still screeching to a halt in his mind. “Is she in?”

  “Afraid not kiddo,” he was warm and likeable, “she’s out seeing her boyfriend.”

  “Her boyfriend?” Chris felt disappointment briefly, but then he decided to hell with that. He’d confront Alexis in front of Sam if he had to.

  “Yeah, nice lad. Xander,”

  He recoiled. Xander?

  “Lovely young man,” this older man beamed warmly, “Shall I tell her you called?”

  Chris’ train of thoughts finally changed tracks and he had an epiphany there on the doorstep. There was someone else Alexis was manipulating, how would Samuel feel about his little bitch on a leash getting cosy with his enemy?

  “That would be lovely,” Chris smiled politely, “Tell her Chris called,”

  “Chris? Ok, I will do.” and then he began to close the door.

  Chris was halfway to the street when it returned to him, the story Pierre had told of Alexis’ father. He’d lost his legs… But the man he’d just met had both legs. Was that Alexis’ father? The family similarity was too strong for him not be, so had Alexis lied? Why? And if she’d lied about that, then what else had she lied about? Then he recalled her dramatic story about her father being kneecapped, set on fire and then pissed on. That clearly was not the case. Lies upon lies. But then he thought about her strange namedropping of all those back at Callinghurst, what exactly was she up to? All her elements of truth she deliberately hid amongst distorted fabrications.

  He opened up his mobile and he rang her again, again he was greeted by the voicemail.

  She was with Xander, he didn’t need to confirm that it would be the Xander he’d met at the party. Samuel Le Bont’s nemesis. Was she sucking up to him so he would kill Sam? Was she playing the gang-leader like she had been playing that low-time drug dealer in the nightclub? Why was Alexis so hell-bent on getting rid of Samuel Le Bont?

  His phone illuminated in his hand, his heart skipped a beat before he realised it wasn’t Alexis but Pierre.

  “Hello babe,” he answered hoping the anger wasn’t palpable in his voice.

  “What ice cream we having tonight?” A delightfully innocent question, it evoked a calming image of Pierre perusing the ice cream aisle.

  “Your choice, just nothing strawberry flavoured,” Chris answered.

  “Got it,”

  “You don’t happen to know where Xander hangs out do you?”

  “Xander who?”

  “Samuel Le Bont’s rival… the guy we met at the party…” Chris was hoping that Pierre might know where this Xander resided, him being the Jackal’s son and all. It was probably a long shot, but he was desperate. He wanted Alexis, wanted the stolen drugs back before Samuel found out. It was all part of the plan, he suspected, for the missing drugs to turn Samuel and Chris upon one another. He wouldn’t give her that satisfaction. For a brief moment he considered ringing Sam himself, confessing what had happened and outing Alexis, but he wanted to get to Alexis first.

  “Oh… him… Why?” Pierre sounded concerned.

  “Alexis is apparently shacked up with him,” Chris sighed, “Sam’s rang, he wants the drugs back. The drugs that are missing…”

  “Oh right…” Pierre trailed off. He then gave Chris an address, “please be careful,”

  “I will, I just need to see Alexis. I want those drugs back so I can give them to Sam and then I can be done with him…”

  “Well just be careful babe, Xander’s not going to take you visiting lightly…”

  Chris couldn’t have cared less. “Well surely he won’t kill me while he knows I’m dating you..”

  “You have a point, but don’t do anything stupid…” Pierre almost invited himself to join the fray, but his father had always warned him to stay out of the gangs politics. He just wished Chris had had the sense to avoid them too.

  Chris said good bye and then hung up, he immediately dialled a taxi.

  ----------------------------------------

  Samuel Le Bont had set up base in an abandoned warehouse in the hills that overlooked Melun. His rival had set up his base in a shady looking gym that moonlighted as a nightclub when the sun set. It was in the heart of Melun, like a cancerous growth nestled deep within the heart of the town. He was noticed as he approached the front doors, several gang members suddenly appearing from their ‘civilian’ stations and closing in.

  “Do I know you?” a gang member stepped into his path blocking him. The gang was mostly of black ethnicities, but he did spy a weedy looking white boy hovering nearby. They all wore a skull pendant, which was probably their insignia. The young male who had stopped him was tall, muscular and attired in dungarees and a baseball cap. He looked like he’d been in one too many fights and his face was puffy and bruised.

  “I’m here to see Alexis, Xander’s girl…” Chris answered like it wasn’t an option and he was going to see her one wa
y or another. The boy laughed in his face.

  “Are you now?!”

  “You can tell Xander that Christopher is here,” Chris offered, his gaze darkened.

  “Yo, he’s one of Sam’s crew…” a new male stepped out of the doors and clocked the confrontation.

  “Sam’s crew? This little punk…?” the boy stood before Chris made a strange sound against his teeth with his tongue to finish his slur, he eyed him up with disdain. “He looks like a faggot,” he concluded.

  “Is Alexis in?” Chris turned his attention to the new boy.

  “Nah, but you got business with Xander?” the new guy, dressed in a orange tracksuit sauntered up.

  “Only if he can lead me to Alexis,” Chris answered him firmly.

  “Well well, the smell of her pussy travels wide…” Xander appeared at the door. Had he heard the confrontation, or was he simply on his way out of the door? He was dressed in jeans, white T-shirt, black leather jacket and large shades. The shades were a little impractical as the sun was beginning to sink as evening drew in, but Chris suspected they were more for aesthetic than function. His opening line garnered a few sniggers from his crew, but Chris didn’t laugh.

  “Where is she?”

  “You interested in hitting that ass, or something?” Xander stepped close. His two crewmembers who had blocked Chris’ path parted out of the way for their boss.

  “Please, I’m not interested in Samuel Le Bont’s sloppy seconds…” Chris dismissed sharply. It took Xander by surprise and his crew all made a unanimous yelp of surprise.

  “Damn you got some balls… You’re lucky I know not to fuck with the Jackal’s business…” Xander spat at Chris’ feet.

  “So where is she?” Chris didn’t flicker.

  “Fucked if I know,” Xander shrugged.

  Chris sighed in disappointment, he went to turn away.

  “You should join my crew,” Xander grabbed his arm. “With balls like yours I could use a guy like you, fuck that nancy Le Bont,”