image
image
image

CHAPTER TWENTY THREE

image

“We’re on television, again,” Tim yelled in the bedroom, as Bree came out of the bathroom unwrapping the yellow towel that barely covered her wet bottom.

In a few hours teenagers would be taking selfies on Tim and Bree’s “Twisted Bed of Love,” as the cable TV networks would brand it. But neither Tim nor Bree were thinking about that now.

“No way!” she said, flopping nude on the bed beside Tim. This was as good as being a Kardashian! Bree’s dream was starting to come true. She was almost a star.

Bree could get a man’s attention away from the screen without even trying. All she had to do was walk in wrapped in a towel. When Bree got naked, Tim didn’t even care that she grabbed the remote out of his hand and backed up the DVR to watch herself.

“Oh fuck, they think I am pushing you into the store and hurting you,” he said.

“They think you kidnapped me. Relax.That’s just what we want them to think,” Bree said, pulling Tim down on top of her for a kiss complete with as much tongue as she could muster.

“Baby, this is just what we wanted. This is the plan. Now we just need to kill the prick, waste the bitch and go up north.”

Another long kiss, a few minutes of lovemaking — the best that Tim could do under this kind of pressure — and they were on their way.

Tim’s truck with Bree, the rope, gasoline, gun, and ammo in the back, was turning left to a new life for the two of them, just as the first carload of kids pulled up in front of his house.

It would have been nice if Bree was sitting beside Tim. That would have made for a much more romantic picture.

Instead they decided — Bree insisted — that they stick with the kidnapping scenario. Tim wrapped her into a 8 X 8-foot throw rug, carried her over his shoulder to the truck and dumped her behind the front seat.

Neighbors being what neighbors are, a couple of them did notice Tim carrying a rolled-up carpet of some kind over his shoulder, and one of them thought he might have noticed a pair of bare feet sticking out of the end of the roll.

But neighbors being what neighbors are, they decided minding their own damn business was the better part of valor.

And, besides, minding their own business was a twenty-four hour a day job.