~~~
That night, Big Pete went back to his apartment in Hillcrest and ate his In-N-Out cheeseburger and fries. He sat in the dark, looking out the half-closed window with yellowing paint peeling and chipping off the frame. Big Pete didn’t like it when there was too much light on at night. In his line of work, he preferred the darkness and had gotten used to it. The only light in his studio was from that annoying street lamp right outside his window which always made it hard for him to fall asleep at night. ‘Specially nights before a hit.
Didn’t matter.
He didn’t need much sleep anyway, because the adrenaline rush from offing a target was enough to keep him buzzed for the entire day. Cold sweat dripped from his white In-N-Out cup, which was filled mostly with ice. That annoyed Big Pete, but he realized that was the way it was everywhere; at Burger King, McDonalds, Wendy’s….life. The bigger the cup, the more ice you got. You never got as much sweet Pepsi as the supersized cup promised. And yet, he still ordered the largest cup, every time. Good thing he ordered a milkshake too. What the hell, right? It was hot as hell and he’d probably lose all the weight by sweating it out.
This time, there was so much condensation—probably because it was so damned humid tonight—that he wondered if his cup was actually leaking. He lifted it up and looked underneath.
Odd.
Something was printed on the bottom.
John 3:16
Yeah, yeah. For God so loved the stinkin’ world that he gave his only begotten Son, that whosoever believeth in Him shall have everlasting life. He’d memorized this verse as a kid in Sunday School so many times he was sick of it. Later, John 3:16 was nothing more than that crazy man who used to hold up that sign in the baseball games.
“Burger joint run by fanatics.”
Something troubled him, though—couldn’t tell just what. The night before he murders a preacher, then he sees a Bible verse. He thought of Mom, how she raised him alone after Dad died of a heart attack. She used to take him to Sunday school at that old Baptist church and he’d try to annoy the preacher by looking right at him during a sermon and picking his nose.
Big Pete laughed at the memory.
He hated preachers.
Especially Pastor Ken Lowry. He was married but always flirted with Ma, he was always up to no good. Nothing made Big Pete happier than when Pastor Ken got arrested for embezzling money from his own church, and got caught in an affair with his secretary.
Hypocrites.
All hypocrites.
It made tomorrow that much easier.
Just then, a flash of black passed before his eyes. If you know Big Pete, you know it’d take a lot to startle him. But Pete gasped, and jumped back. His chair tipped over and hit the ground. Freezing ice and whatever was left of his Pepsi splashed onto his lap. “Dammit, Whiskas!”
Eyes reflecting and glowing in the dark, Whiskas, his black Persan cat had leapt up onto the table and was nosing around through the wrapper of his half-eaten cheeseburger.
“Shoo!” Big Pete waved his hand at her, but she knew better. She just looked at him all, why-are-you-waving-your-hand-around? and started to chew on the cheeseburger. “Aw, all right. Go ahead. Wasn’t that hungry anyway.”
Rubbing her soft fur, he admired her ability to just go and take what she wanted. She didn’t believe in asking permission or forgiveness. Just like me. He picked up his chocolate milk shake—no way he’d let Whiskas have any of that—and just out of curiosity took a look under it. Sure enough, another damned Bible verse!
Revelation 3:20
A trickle of static electricity ran up and down his spine, to his extremities, and through his scalp. What was with these people at In-N-Out? And why, after all these years, was he suddenly noticing these verses—the night before…?
Pete pulled out his iPhone and googled the verse. Like a heavy blanket, dread fell over him. It read:
Behold, I stand at the door, and knock: if any man hears my voice, and opens the door, I will come in to him, and will sup with him, and he with me.
“Gimme a break!” He slid his iPhone back into his pocket and didn’t give it another thought. He had a job to do, a reputation to protect. No one, not even God was going to get in his way.
That night, he tossed and turned in cold, wet sheets, even though the fan blew right at him.
The Accidental Hero Page 3
