^{CHAPTER 13}

 

 

 

^{A Monster Unleashed}

 

 

 

 

 

^{When there was a sharp economic downturn the poor and the weak always suffered, which is why Monday morning found Whitey Reynolds doing just fuckin fine.}

^{Although the Zip ’em up Crew’s last hit had gone sour and the solidarity of his crew had damn near dissolved, the white boy of the group wasn’t worried in the least.}

^{Whitey was definitely what you would call an opportunist, but above all else he was a predator. There wasn’t a weak bone in his body and being poor was for the dumb suckers of the world. It was for those ignorant idiots who lacked the guts and brutality to take whatever they wanted out of life.}

^{Today Whitey’s guts were telling him that he was very close to getting what he wanted. A while back he had gone to Fulton Street and squeezed a name out of the old Jewish kike who owned the store, and after taking his time to do some research, he had formulated a plan.}

^{This morning he was laying in the cut outside of a ritzy twelve-story apartment building in one of Money-Making Manhattan’s most expensive neighborhoods. Whitey wasn’t looking to close out a high-priced real estate transaction as one might assume, but he was looking to trade his stolen diamond for a suitcase full of cash.}

^{A born and bred blue-blooded native New Yorker, Whitey was as American as baseball and apple pie. He knew very little about the ways of the French and he had never in life been to Paris or Belgium, but right now he had his eye on a sho’nuff tasty-looking French pastry.}

^{Her hair was flaming red and she was dressed in a short black dress and the white bib apron of a professional maid. Whitey pretended to tie his shoe as she walked past him and hurried toward the building, and when she unlocked the gated door and stepped into the foyer he pushed in right behind her.}

^{“Parlez vous France?” he whispered in her ear as he cupped his hand over her mouth so hard she was momentarily paralyzed. He hooked his other arm around her chest and lifted her in the air.}

^{“Wanna see my French tickler?” he asked, carrying her toward the stairwell entrance.}

^{The maid bucked. She twisted and squirmed and tried to hold on to the doorframe as Whitey barged through the stairwell entrance with her in his arms.}

^{He flung her against the wall the moment they were inside. Then before she could draw a breath he thrust the flat of his palm against the ridge of her nose and snapped it.}

^{“Aggh!” she cried out weakly. All the fight was gone out of her as she gripped her gushing nose and slid down to the floor.}

^{Whitey stood back and lit a French cigar as she gasped and writhed on her knees in pain.}

^{“Avi,” he said after taking his first toke. “The Belgium dude who does the diamonds. Which apartment?”}

^{Stark terror was in the maid’s eyes as she cupped her broken nose and cried. “I-I-I don’t know!” she babbled with a stream bright red blood flowing into her palm. “I don’t know!”}

^{Whitey was disappointed. This bitch wasn’t French. Her accent placed her from somewhere in South Jersey.}

^{He toked his cigar again and the ember at the tip glowed orange-red.}

^{“Avi. What’s his last name?”}

^{The frightened young woman shuddered as she sat back on her ass and shook her head from side to side. “Please!” she whimpered, blood spraying from her nose. “I don’t know his name! I don’t have that information!”}

^{Whitey sighed heavily. He squatted down close beside her and smoothed her bangs away from her sweaty forehead. He gripped its warm roundness firmly in his palm. He took another puff from his cigar and then maneuvered himself until his knee was pressing against her feeble chest. Extending his arm, he leaned his full weight down on her forehead and then took the cigar from his mouth and aimed the glowing ember toward her right eyelid.}

^{Immediately she squeezed her eyes closed and tried to jerk her head away.}

^{“Avi?” he asked simply, then pressed the ember to her eyelid and listened to it sizzle.}

^{Her scream was immediate and intense. It was a bloody-fuckin-murder scream, but Whitey didn’t even hear it.}

^{“Avi?” he repeated.}

^{“I don’t know!” his captive whimpered as she tried to wag her head from side to side. But that simply wasn’t true. She did know. Whitey knew she knew. And after one more deep eyelid burn that made her shit her drawers as the orange embers nearly melted straight through to her eyeball, she told.}

^{Finishing her off only took a minute or so. By the time her tongue was protruding from her mouth and her eyes had rolled back in her head, Whitey had already formulated his next steps.}

^{He wrinkled his nose as the smell of loose shit and sizzling flesh rose in the air. After taking one last toke before clipping off his cigar, he brushed off his suit and exited the stairwell with his stomach growling.}

^{Whitey walked out into the sunshine hungry as fuck. He had skipped breakfast, and now he had a taste for a nice Belgium waffle, or maybe even a slice or two of delicious French toast!}