The Golden Goose of Los Angeles Extended Edition

by Travis Adams Irish

you’re not careful, we’ll make you watch.”

 

  The smell of dog feces and rotting flesh still lingers in Rory’s nostrils, and the night of emotional trauma and captivity have left him feeling raw all over. His eyes are bloodshot and wild, like that of an ancient soldier, and as Dimitri threatens him, he lashes out immediately. Rory snatches the Italian’s right hand and twists it around at the wrist in a clockwise motion, locking it in place. Now standing in a position slightly behind the gangster, he tweaks the arm until it is ready to snap. With Dimitri restrained, Rory delivers three fierce uppercuts to his kidneys, and then pushes him to the ground with both hands. The moment Dimitri is on all fours, Rory darts across the concrete and uses his right foot to deliver a mighty kick underneath the Italian’s jaw.

 

  “Oh, WOW!” Pezzloni shouts with instant approval as he sees his colleague drop to the concrete from the ferocious blow. “That was worth watching… Guess we shouldn’t have let you order all of those martial arts videos.”

 

  Rory glances back to see the same black, semi-automatic pistol that Pezzloni was pointing at him the previous evening. He looks at Tina for a moment, as if asking her what he should do, but she puts her head down in defeat, causing him to rethink his attack, and step away from the fallen gangster.

 

  “Dimitri, are you okay?” Anthony asks with mild concern, leaning forward a bit to get a better look at his colleague. “You know the rules, soldier… If you can’t handle them, then we’ll handle you!”

 

  Dimitri gets to his feet slowly, holding his jaw and staring at Pezzloni with marked fury. He keeps his glare steady for a moment, and then spits toward Rory’s feet.

 

  “Let’s finish this bullshit!” Dimitri announces with a macho strut, as he moves toward Tina, and grips her by the arm. “I want this to be over in time for breakfast.” The angry Italian adds, glancing back at Rory, and jutting his chin out slightly in an upward motion.

 

  Dimitri grabs Tina by the hair with his left hand, and wraps his right hand around her right bicep. He then drags her out the door of the dog compound, seeming to enjoy her protests and screams of pain.

 

  “You need to come and watch this,” Pezzloni begins solemnly, “and as you see the dogs tear into her, remember that it could just as easily be Kelly.” He looks at Rory with fatherly disappointment, lowers his eyes to the floor, and then gestures for him to exit the building.

 

  When they reach the yard outside of the compound, Rory notices that all six German Shepherds are frenzied. Two of the dogs walk straight up to Tina’s left arm, sniffing hungrily in the air, and Dimitri has to shout to get them away from her.

 

  “GET THE HELL OUT OF HERE BEFORE I SPLINTER YOUR ASS!” The fierce Italian belays them, forcing the dogs to run away.

 

  The dogs retreat away from Dimitri, and immediately begin to harass Rory while Anthony is escorting him toward the gate that leads to the yard behind the home. As the dogs snarl like greedy lions, Anthony has a less gentle approach to dispersal, and fires his pistol at the ground near them. Rory closes his eyes as dust is kicked up by the shattered cement, and he hears the dogs whimper as they run to the far end of the enclosure.

 

  “Jesus, Pezzloni…” Dimitri says as he helps Tina through the gate where Vincent is waiting. “Let’s just get this over with.” He says slowly, shaking his head and shifting his jaw around to relieve the fresh sting of Rory’s kick.

 

  Pezzloni’s bombastic laughter carries over the group as they exit the chain-link fence. Vincent is wearing an orange and white striped shirt with a pair of faded jeans and black hiking boots. His bloated face bears an expression of boredom, and the man appears more upscale today with a white beret atop his head.

 

  Rory and Tina feel like prisoners of war being marched to their death. From the time they exit the darkness of the compound into the blinding light of day, everything is chaos. They are pushed forward by their captors with a casual vindication that is haunting. For the gangsters, this business of feeding a woman to their dogs is just as much fun as fishing or hiking. It is their calm demeanors that make Rory tremble with fear, as if this were a safari vacation on some remote African plain.

 

  Once they have moved from the concrete enclosure to the yard outside, Vincent secures the gate with the ravenous dogs inside. Rory stares at their furry muzzles, watching them bare their teeth every few seconds as they bark at the captives.

 

  “I’ll bet a thousand that she makes it five minutes.” Dimitri says with a callous stare as he releases Tina in the yard, pushing her slightly forward.

 

  “Four minutes.” Pezzloni says with a serious expression, looking up and down at Tina’s injured body.

 

  “Three minutes.” Vincent says slowly as he watches her restrained gait. “She’s got a broken arm and a few broken ribs. Let’s give her a two minute head-start before we run the timer.”

 

  “Okay, my dear. You’ve got two minutes to get ahead of the dogs!” Pezzloni states with self-righteous satisfaction. “I’m sorry you have to go this way, but we warned you when you first came here to party – not to be a rat! Because… we send the dogs after the rats.” He stares at her for a moment, watching her weep in a panic as his words shatter all hope of her survival. “So now you need to run, or you can walk. I don’t give a shit! In… THREE! TWO! ONE!”

 

  The gangster fires his pistol in the air, and Tina winces from the sound, turning immediately away from the dog run. She hobbles painfully forward, holding the broken ribs in the left side of her chest with her right arm.

 

  Rory is ablaze with fury as he watches the fragile blonde making her way up the grass toward the courtyard. He shakes his head in silent protest, knowing that, at best, she’ll only make it fifty yards before the dogs are upon her. The young man turns slightly to his left, noticing that Dimitri is staring at him with complete satisfaction. In this moment of terror, the Italian has the audacity to mouth the words ‘fuck you’ at Rory, his eyes lighting up with a wicked grin.

 

  “Hey, Vincent,” Dimitri begins, “we only need to release two dogs. She’s so broken that it won’t take very long. We really did a number on her.” He says with malice, speaking to his colleague, but maintaining his gaze at Rory.

 

  “Sounds good.” Vincent says with a nod. “I’ll go let two dogs into the pit.” The heavyset gangster opens the gate in the chain-link fence, and closes it behind him as he steps inside.

 

  “Well hell, Rory.” Pezzloni says with casual frustration. “Do you want to see it happen live, or should we show it to you on the security camera footage? Either way, it’s going to be… horrifying… Even for me… it’s fuckin’ horrifying.”

 

  “Oh yeah?” Rory responds back in a casual yet reptilian manner. “Was it horrifying when you killed your wife?” He asks boldly, staring Pezzloni in the face. “Was it horrifying to know that you turned your son into a fruitcake because he knows you beat his mother to death?”

 

  “You ARROGANT BITCH!” Pezzloni shouts with explosive rage, raising his pistol in the air to strike Rory.

 

  “No, Anthony! DON’T!” Dimitri protests from a few feet away. “THAT’S EXACTLY WHAT HE WANTS!” The young Italian cries out as though trying to stop a raft from going over a waterfall.

 

  Rory loops his forearms around Anthony’s right wrist, twisting with the momentum of the gangster’s striking motion, and using the energy to free the pistol from his fingers. The 9mm Beretta easily falls from the older man’s hands, and Rory reaches
for it with a fierce instinct for survival. Despite his aggressive maneuvers, the gangster is able to slam him sideways, causing the weapon to drop toward the ground where it is kicked by Rory’s left shoe.

 

  As the pistol slides across the grass, Rory stays focused on its familiar black shape. Dimitri notices that Rory is dipping down for the pistol, and intercepts quickly by kicking it again with a swipe from his right foot. This motion sends the pistol bouncing ten feet across the grass, but as Dimitri steps in the way of Pezzloni, the older gangster bowls him over, sending them both crashing to the ground.

 

  Rory glances over his left shoulder to see his two captors rolling on the grass, and realizes that he has a small window of opportunity. Wasting no time, he sprints forward with his mighty legs, and scoops up the pistol from the ground. He then turns and aims carefully at Dimitri while running backwards up the grassy slope.

 

  A single shot drowns out all the other sounds of nature, ripping chunks of dirt out of the grass just a few feet from Anthony and Dimitri. This causes both gangsters to flatten themselves out on the grass. They are as expert at their maneuvers as trained military veterans, and Dimitri is able to draw his own pistol once he is face down with his chest in the grass.

 

  Rory aims carefully as he continues to run backwards. His legs are gaining momentum, and the adrenaline is propelling him up the slope like a desert critter being pursued by a rattlesnake. When he nears the crest of the hill, Rory fires a second shot, and then turns to sprint toward Tina in the courtyard.

 

  “JESUS CHRIST!”