Organize

ONE STEP forward, one step back, on to the porch, back pressed against the wall, realizing that she must think things through. Scanning, like a grocery checker, checking out human bar codes, she is upset.

Seeing Billy exit out of the meth lab, looking none to happy and, then the rebuff to Sue is doing nothing for her racing mind. Seeing Sue race off on the bike, calms her a little. At least Sue is out of the picture, for the moment. The loss of her lighter plagues her.

She can not stop berating herself for being so careless, so stupid.

Staring off at Arvan, who is repairing her car, allows her some solace. Adept at grifting, stealing, lying, she realizes the smallest thing can turn the grift into sawdust; she hates loose strings on The Long Con.

Yet the lighter, NO, anyone finding that was a long shot at best. Geeeze, no one is perfect.

Still, Billy looked savage, very upset, so she is running a few scenarios through her head, deciding she can always use the PLEASE FUCK ME DEFENSE as a last defense

“How the fuck should I know?” What fucking lighter? And “Let’s fuck big boy.”

Always a proven last ditch winner, fail safe plan, for she knows men think with their dicks anyways.

With Sue gone, set up Billy, jack up Arvan, figure out how to get Mava’s money, not a priority.

If it happens, good; no problem, she has tons of, it.

Get Jason, his work tucked away, edgy thing, sneak time, wee hours of the morning probably best for that. Scoot and fall off the mobs radar, live happily ever after. Weird plan, absurd, insane, she is a black- death-star revolving, sucking in whole universes with their power, including her own.

If nothing else, she is feeling good.

She is going to Out Crazy them by leagues for nothing was going to stop her, except perhaps a bullet.

Billy, the mob, and other things, she just doesn’t want to come to reality about those nasty things, for the moment.

It is now, SHOW TIME.

She sees Arvan, wiping grease from his hands with a red rag, moving out of the garage towards the bar. He’s steps from the bar as she begins to stroll towards him.

Into OZ now, where either the Yellow Brick Road will lead her to riches, safety, happiness or into the guts of a coffin lined in lead.

“ARVAN, OH ARVAN DARLING.” She tweets.

Arvan’s eyes light up seeing his Betty, hopefully, a future escapee, new doll wife slithering towards him, he is so happy.

Even from a distance, he can feel her spell, as he gazes all wacky and such as his darling strolls towards him, each little tick of her tiny hips driving him more rabid by the moment.

Once in front of him, she smiles. Sweet Betty, pond eyes, happy now as if shes been marooned on Mars and he just exited the POD, a heroic spaceman there to rescue her.

“Hey Betty, almost done with that Caddy, a yers. Another hour, WE be set.”...

“WE” again being the optimum word in that statement.

Right words, right time, she leaps forward, squeals, little girl time, hugs him, feels nothing for him, knows a body, her body, just a taste, gets her to the the finish line, just that much sooner.

He tries to get some with his hands.

She giggles away and, then the deep grift starts. Lots a smiles, pouts, lots of words of wonder, white eye lashes like albino bat wings, soap opera stuff, she is a ZEN MASTER of the grift.

Her, him, a new life, futures in the double wide, maybe Van Horn, Dallas, anywhere is fine with her, strong man, smart man, Arvan is in hysteria, internally.

She’s worried about Billy; he’s been hitting on her.

Scarred, worried, he’s so big, she hates the way he treats Arvan, remember darlin’, jealousy.

‘Promise me, not to tell anyone our plans, please. When will the Cadillac be done, can you do it real soon, my Honey bunny”, it goes something like that.

Arvan, from behind his back, proud, shows off his 357 magnum in his belt.

“Don’t worry yer pretty lil head, my Betty, Arvan has a plan.”

She concentrates, whispers on how strong, brave he is.

He assures her everything is set, a morning take off, jest ya don’t worry bout nothin’.

She makes him do the Cross yer heart and hope to die thingy. Death, for her a real possibility if she fucks up, he does the croos yer heart thing. He swears up and down he ain’t gonna tell no one, gets a kiss on his chin whiskers for that promise.

Parting is such sweet sorrow.

“Remember Arvan my darling, she has to make nice around Billy, just a show, until they can skedaddle out.”

A wayward tear falls down her cheek, right near the butterfly stitch, burning her cuts, reminding her to get her shit together. She turns, turns back, an air kiss, an ass waggle, turns as she walks, sneaks a peek and watches her new man walk into the bar.

“WOW.” She exhales in angst.

Billy next, deal with that shit, placate him some how, monitor it all, real tight, including their astrology charts.

Feeling her stomach growling, shes burning calories, brain power does that.

No reserve, have to be strong, get food, take advantage of Sue’s absence, that’s a good thing and, at the same time gauge where Billy is. It’s complicated stuff. Yet, she’s getting off on it. She can’t help her self. She’s wired like that.

Patting her self down, 44, there, that’s good. 38, knife in the boots, that’s good. Time to sneak around, no grand entrance as she moves to the back of the bar.

At the back door she gazes off at the stable’s as warmth fills her heart, her eyes blaze as she whispers.

“Soon Baby.”

Back door open, she hears Jewel on the jukebox; no line dancing tonight for her. She enters, clomps into the bar, her work boots going clickety-clack as she does.

HESITATING at the opening between the cafe/bar, Mava, Art in the kitchen, serious, caught in what looks like a dire conversation. Art nods, Mava turns her head, sees the girl she likes, smiles, a little wave. Mandal smiles, waves back.

Mava returns too conversation with Art. Mandal wonders what can be so serious in their lives. She thinks she has an idea about that.

Standing near the dark corner, where she watched Billy fuck with the man she loves, her temper flares.

Control that.

She does as she lingers looking around the bar.

Gratefully, no Billy, she relaxes some.

She’s sure he walked in, people always vanishing, reappearing again. Maybe Billy’s in the bathroom, wheres Arvan? He’s here somewhere.

One step, she jerks, surprised, Arvan walking from the john, zipping up his jeans, shouts a greeting at her. He moves to the bar, grabs a bottle of Jack Daniels, pours a heavy shot, raises it to her, winks at her, she groans. He throws it back.

“GEE, I’M SUCH A LUCKY GAL.” She almost blurts out, but does not.

Tommy and Garth are at the pool table playing pool, handguns stuffed into their belts.

“WHACK.”

In the pocket the eight ball goes. Both men laugh.

Arvan gives her alot of conspiratorial winks as she groans, winks back; a secrets lover’s code.

They are sharing stuff, like a secret hand shake as he takes another shot, slaps his glass on the bar. Proud of his drinking prowness he grins, wipes gold liquid from his mouth that drips onto a tattoo of a Harley needled into his chest.

She wants to scream, just sighs as she peeks at the big men playing pool.

Stomach growls, shes starving to death, from lack of Jason and of food.

Finding a table off in the corner, she sits, pulls out a cigarette, pats her pocket, groans, finds a match and lights her smoke just as Billy walks out of the bathroom.

He moves behind the bar, grabs a beer. Mandal sees he looks totally on edge, none to happy, hasn’t seen her yet, she exhales a plume of smoke. Temporary barkeep, he looks at Arvan with disgust.

For the first time in his life, Arvans eyes do not budge.

Mava peeks around the corner, sees her boys, peeks her way, smiles; back in the kitchen she goes.

Arvan wheels spinning in his head, he thinks a his Ma’s money, Betty, a dead Billy and wonders.

What if?

Every one seems to have three things on their minds, Betty, money and homicide.

Hard eyes, back to Billy, Arvan slaps his short glass on the bar, says with confidence and attitude.

“Jack.”

Billy, seething, leers at Arvan, about to throttle him if for no other reason then the puke forgot to say please. He’s about to wrap his fist around his scrawny neck, when he sees his Betty sittin’ like the angel she ain’t.

Right thar, smiling at him from one of the tables is the exact reason he is in such a fouled up mood.

Then, from the front door, the wrong man, at the wrong time enters, he being, Ronnie Gee. Along side of him are two very big, edgy looking characters, long coats, looking like a pair of old west highway men.

Back and forth, Billy’s cold eyes dart around. First at Betty who he has some serious issues with and, then to Ronnie Gee, his crew, who he simply has some unfinished bidness to finish up with.

This is Billy turf, no worries fill his mind

Mandal of course is scanning everything.

Getting no usual big ole grin from Billy, tells her something is wrong; very wrong.

His glance has none a that I love ya Betty stars in it.

Good cop, Bad cop.

She was in her mind going to have to play both parts. Why the fuck not.

The arrival of the scum, especially that guy Ronnie Gee, suddenly makes her not feel so hungry. In fact she can cut the tension in the air, if she decides to whip her knife out of her boot, with it.

Billy; first things, first.

He ain’t bright, but he is primal, no fool when his brain is workin’ right.

He sees Betty frowning, ego kicks in, suspects she ain’t happy cause he ain’t sharing the lovin’ with her no more. His dick tells him to give her the benefit of the doubt. His mind tells him something else.

Watching him, leering at her, lie, lie, lie, comes into her head. What is new about that.

Maybe she was playing catch with the kids from the Blind School and “CLANG,” her lighter just flew out of her pocket?

She knows when a man wants to fuck her they will believe anything and that’s a good thing.

Rape, murder, her murder, is of course an entirely different thing.

Bracing her self for the silliness, maybe the pain about to fall on her face, she exhales a cloud of smoke, breaths. Billy hops the bar, veers away from her direction with a small satchel in his mitts. He moves towards a not so grinning Ronnie Gee, front teeth missing and his crew and stands before them.

Watching and like the change of seasons, she feels winter freeze her bones.

For now, Ronnie Gee, toothless, face swollen, stitches everywhere is leering at her and she knows instantly why. He’s holding her responsible for his beating.

“Oh Shit.” She whispers as she turns her gaze away as Billy hovers over him.

Arvan at the bar, drinking himself stupid, turns, smiles at her, wipes away some drool, casually looks off at Billy and Ronnie Gee. This is Their World; he’s half way home to drunk with his Betty dreams intact, no worries.

Billy, no mirth, stands before Ronnie Gee, who looks straight up, reptile eyes, no fear, no teeth, no nothing and Mandal sees it. In her mind, the little violent man wants nothing in those hard eyes, but sweet and violent revenge.

No hesitation, Ronnie Gee grins, pulls a military 45 from his waist, rips it under Billy’s chin.

Time ticks.

His amigos pull sawed off shotguns from beneath their wild west coats just as Garth, Tommy get wise to what is happening.

Tick, tick, tick,

Arvan is standing at the bar and oblivious to everything except drinking; thoughts of his Betty who now is rising from her chair.

The two bikers finally get it, turn, pistols rising, Garth, Tommy at the pool table begin to move.

Ronnie Gee sees, nods at his crew.

Twelve gauge, sawed off, BUCK, ERUPT, fames, flume of fire, smoke, lead pellets rip across the room blasting gaping holes in Garth and Tommy chests, throwing them ten feet back, crashing into tables; they sprawl to the ground.

Dead already, boots vibrating along the sawdust and blood, very dead, indeed. Ronnie’s men sweep their shotguns everywhere around the bar, calm, very hard, professional men.

Arvan jerks, falls off the bar stool, hits his head on the bar counter top, “YIPS” and falls on his butt onto the saw dust floor as Betty stands further, about to make it for the door.

Billy goes to move and, then thinks it wise To No as Ronnie Gee shoves the 357 magnum barrel tip deeper into his throat.

“YA move, asshole. Yer dead.”

Suddenly, Mava, followed by Art appear from the space separating bar and cafe. She gasps, peruses the situation and nod’s at Art to settle as Ronnie Gee yells at his crew.

“BURT, WATCH THE OLD BITCH, ART TOO.”

Big Burt moves near to the bar, throwing down on Mava, Art with the sawed off, the chef hands hidden behind his back.

Ronnie Gee calms and watches as Arvan stands, gawking, supporting himself against the bar, rubbing the hurt off his head.

“Jake, watch that puke.” He nods at Arvan, gets a nod.

The big man moves near the pool tables, aiming the twelve-gauge at Arvan.

Over at her table, Mandal standing, groans, decides it’s the perfect moment to make her exit stage left. She is hoping that some how she has suddenly become transparent.

She is sick to her empty stomach, wondering why fate just couldn’t give her one more day. She takes a step and, then freezes.

“YOU, BITCH, SIT YOUR SKINNY ASS DOWN.” Ronnie Gee booms, hand gun pressed to a very calm Billy’s neck.

“Who me?”

She points to herself all innocent and such. He nod’s, she sits and feels her 44 and, then begins to crunch the numbers to so many new problems.

Attention back to Billy as Ronnie Gee gives him a toothless grin, says. “Big man, uh Billy...Hittin’ and talkin’ trash. What a ya got ta say now?”

“Fuck you.”

Rearing back, Ronnie Gee pistol whips him across the temple. Billy’s huge head jerks back, whips back, blood pooling down his forehead, also within his iced eyeballs. Ronnie Gee, no fool, steps back a few steps, points the 45 at the Big Cox’s boy’s rock hard gut.

“Wheres the fucking money, Billy boy?”

Billy smiles and wipe’s at some blood, smudges it between his forefinger and thumb and looks at Ronnie.

“Why ya gotta be that way? Plenty fer everyone. Don’t be a fool.”

“Is that right, Billy, plenty fer everyone? Ya done killed, Speedo, the indian, didn’t ya? Where’s Speedo’s plenty?” Cocking the 45, Ronnie grins, “I got plenty fer ya. Now where the fuck is the money?”

Over at the bar, Mava secretly wishes for Ronnie Gee to pull the trigger.

Her sharp eyes roam the bar, Betty, her hand under her bomber jacket, Arvan leering like an idiot, shotguns in dire men’s hands, ready to blow hell out of the place. Mava glances at Art. His hands are behind his back. She nods at the shotgun under the bar tops rack and, then turns her gaze to back around the room.

Mandal, ready to fall to her knees, crawl out of the place, she decides to give it another shot, stands, removes her hand off of the 44’s pistol grip, almost whistles, takes a half side step.

Ronnie Gee yells at her, she groans, stops.

“HEY YOU...PRETTY BLOND GAL. GEET OVER HERE.”

Plan B bongs in her brain.

Zip, zip, she zips up her bomber jacket. No need, if it gets rough, having the 44 exposed, flying around the room, bad ju ju.

Scan, seek, figure it out, smiles always help, cigarette between her lips, slow match to flame; center of attention, last thing she wants.

Billy gawking at her, Arvan leering and smoke lifting through her nose, she begins to move.

Standing in front of Ronnie Gee, she digs her cigarette pack out, tilts it to him, just a part of the con.

One ass fuck, one brain fuck are as good as the other if it gets her and Jason out alive.

Violently, Ronnie gee slaps the pack out of her hand, leers at her, 45 still aimed at Billy, shotguns cocked.

She is a movie star, right here, right now, playing the part of her life.

“You bout the sexiest bitch I ever done seen.”

She pouts, thanks him with her blue twinkle virgin eyes for his sweet compliment.

He reaches forward, rips his fist around the back of her long neck, scruff’s her face level with his own, drool, leers into her white, beat on, once in a life time beautiful face.

“Ya want ta fuck Ronnie Gee?”

Arvan moves, dreams crumpling like crackers, men tense, cold eyes, shotguns waving, tilting, fingers pressing along triggers. Even Arvan gets it, groans and, then leans against the bar.

Pulling her neck harder, gums just inches from her lips, her blue eyes showing no fear, 45 aimed at Billy’s head, he growls so the room can hear.

“YA sweet on this white haired gal, ain’t ya Billy? Ronnie Gee, gonna fuck this gal, kill her after. Where’d ya say that money was, Billy?”

Mandal, simply looks at his few remaining teeth, gums, wondering how that will be.

Fucking one more gorilla so she can get whats she wants seems okay to her.

Unable to stop himself, Arvan again takes a step and, then a shot gun blast, over his shoulder, near Mava, and Art. Glasses, the wall mirror evaporates in smoke, shredding glass detonating everywhere. Arvan jerks back, as Burt levels the barrel at him.

Ronnie Gee looks at Arvan, grins.

“Well, looks like Arvan is sweet on her too. Go head, come on Arvan, I owes ya one. Come geet some?”

Love don’t stop bullets, even Arvan knowed that. He leans against the bar again. Burt changes positions, moves right near Mava. Art, just stands silent. He is a patient fella.

“Where the money, Ice, Billy?”

He shoves the gun tip into his Betty’s cut lips.

She smiles as she feels almost a sexual current running through her body from the pain of the gun tip.

She always feels the surge, just before the violence begins.

Ronnie sees her smile and her no fear attitude. He crinkles his brow, looks oddly at her unexpected expression, likes it and, then grins.

45 aimed at a casually staring Billy, fist ripped around her neck. He jerks his eyes at Billy who seems to not have a care in the world, except the blood dripping from his forehead.

“The dough re me, Billy boy. Where ya got it? Or we gonna have a time of it with this one.”

Billy shrugs his shoulders, feels her lighter pressing against his dick, non gallantly says. “Do what ya want. She ain’t nothin’ ta me. Fuck her all ya want, kill her. No matter ta me.

Geeze, what ever happened to valor, defending a girl’s good name? So much for love.

Mandal thinks, the grip on her neck making it hard for her to breath.

A little agitated, Ronnie Gee releases her, plays his hand out.

“Yeah, Billy...Lets see bout that.”

Ronnie Gee rears back, swings for the fences and, then backhands the wrong girl at the wrong place in her face. Mandal spins to the floor, jerks around on her knees, sits up, leering at Ronnie Gee, blood trailing along her mouth.

Everybody does a little dance, calmed by a 45, shotguns waving everywhere.

Ronnie Gee grins at the spunky bitch. She smiles back through blood on her white teeth, groaning in pain inside for even she knows she can’t take many more beatings if she is to survive.

A little off kilter, for the twist has those crazy blue eyes, keeps smiling, on her knees, starin’ at him like she wants to kill him, he says.

“You real spirited. Ronnie Gee like that in a woman.”

“I think your nice too.” She whispers, mind fucking his brain, as his brow crinkles as then gums grins at her.

“Ya do, A?”

Turning to his men, he says. “Watch Billy, the family, real good.”

45, in his waistband, he violently raps his hand like a vice around her neck, drags her to the pool table, slams her butt against it so she is facing him, work boots spread eagle, on the floor. Raising his fingers, he trails them along her Sue scars, past old faded scars, the blood gathering on her lips.

“Ya like it rough, huh doll?”

She leers at him, says. “You have no idea, gums.”

She spits blood, saliva, it covers his shocked face.

Mava, stunned, Art silent, Arvan too, even Billy, wonderin’ what the she devil would be like on the sheets as they all stare in disbelief at her transformation.

“Give it yer best shot, gums.” She giggles.

This is her plan. Make him nuts, whats else can she do? Sse her own body as a distraction and maybe one of the Cox’s will do something during the melee.

If Billy and Arvan were in love with her before, well their absolutely bonker’s now.

Billy, as she had planned, his dick over riding any past common sense he had plugged in his head before, wants her bad, is considering whether he should die for her, just to stick his dick into her.

Prankish smile on her lips, Ronnie Gee awed, confused, Mava looks on, in awe herself, whispers. “You go girl.”

She exhales, peeks at Art, at the shot gun man, right near the bar, peeks back at Art again, hands behind his back.

Ronnie Gee steps back, no anger in his face whats so ever.

He’s about as turned on as hes ever been, mean, the Blondie with the wild eyes mesmerizes him.

Fuck, he even thinks that he may be in love with the souped up bitch, staring him down.

“Yer real full a yerself, ain’t ya girl?”

“No more than usual, Mr. Gee.”

Smile, pink tongue to lips, laps up some blood, Ronnie trying to figure her out, dick getting hard like one a Arvans tie rods.

Arvan, at the bar is jealous and actually wonderin’ if she’s fallin’ for Ronnie Gee. Eyes tick, guy, shotgun pokin’ at him, eye’s tick left, shotgun aiming at his Ma, Art, Billy, like his Betty, he’s hoping for any opening so he can move.

One step forward, Ronnie Gee back hands her in the mouth.

“Crack.”

She flays backwards on to the felt, long legs dangling spread eagle off of the table’s side. Ronnie Gee, laughs says. “How bout that darlin’. How that fer usual?”

Groaning, withering on the green felt, feeling like she’s just been beaten far too much, she feels pain, real pain as she fights not to pass out, has to move through it.

Hands pressing to her face, original Sue eye wound split wide open, blood pooling down her face, something better happen quick (she can barely think) or shes gonna be a dead woman.

Waving his 45 around the room, jerking fun looks at Billy, an irate Arvan with hatred welded to his face, Ronnie struts around like Cock Robin. Mandal moans androlls onto her side as Ronnie Gee turns to Billy, asks.

“Where, ya say that money was?”

Billy shrugs his shoulder, checks a finger nail. Ronnie Gee looks down at the sexed up blond. She seems to be babbling something, blood dripping down her face. He leans in, asks. “Sorry darlin’, what ya sayin?”

Knowing, though it is difficult to see through her very real anguish, the sparks of her reality illuminate in her brain. She is about to be gang raped and, then murdered as she whispers something and seems to Ronnie Gee to be actually giggling.

He bends to her face, taps her blood stained white hair with the hand gun tip, asks;

“What darlin? Ya sayin’ ya want ta fuck, Ronnie Gee.”

Bloody teeth exposed, blood drooling down her lips, 44 pressed against her breasts, she grins, begins to laugh.

His eyes go wide as then the entire bar is blown away as she says so everyone can hear. “FAGGOT.”

Giggles, everyone in the house gasps, collectively hold their breaths. Some are in awe, some in wonder; many in pure carnal lust.

Billy is so aroused, he’s about to spill the beans, just so he can fuck the hell out of his new Betty; a gal he actually admires now.

Fuck the lighter. What fucking lighter?

Ronnie partied with some hard core bitches in his time, none more-crazy, none-more pretty as he watches her undulating on the pool table, hands pressed to her bloody face, giggling away.

Bomber zipped, her tiny tummy exposed, set along her hip huggers, hip bones pressing, swelling, real rare stuff.

Ronnie Gee has ahard on; Billy too. She can’t take it much more.

Three, two, one. Count down done. Blast off.

Violently, he grabs her hip hugger waist band, rips her jeans open.

Zipper, click, click, click rips open.

He flips her like a pancake, onto her stomach. She groans in pain as her small nose hits the hard slate.

He drags her back, howls and, then in one motion, he rips her black jeans down along her thin legs down to her ankles. Howling, shot guns waving everywhere, holding the fort intact, he lowers his few remaining teeth, rips her men’s white BVD’s off her ass, spits them onto the floor. She shudders in pain, moans from more pain.

Frantic, he unbuckles his big ole Texas belt buckle, stares at her tiny ass, her cunt, never seen anything so pretty, unzips his jeans, big ole hard on waving all around.

Of course this is the moment, when all the lies, the grifting, the cheating is supposed to click in from her loving men.

This is the instant when her lovers, are going to leap into the flames, save her lying ass.

NADA.

Even Arvan, even Billy, kinda stoked with the madness, their first eye exposure ta her white skin and what could a been mix mastering in their brains, knowed death is a permanent kinda thing.

Ronnie stares at her like hes never seen a cunt afore, howls, begins to move in.

Suddenly another HOWL crashes along with a shadow, seemingly from no where, sending him crashing against the jukebox, killing Willy Nelson dead.

“LEAVE HER BE” The voice, like grated salt, bellows.

Entire cast moves, but held at bay, shotguns, nervous hands, big men. Mava gasps. Art is a rock. Billy leers as Arvan swallows his chaw of mouth tobac as Jason Cox, his fingers wrapped around Ronnie Gees throat, his cape, cowl intact, lifts Ronnie off the ground, Ronnie Gees cowboy boot dangling in the air.

Room ready to explode, one final orgasm of death, yet Ronnie’s crew is a disciplined one.

Mandal, blood in her eyes, face pressed to the felt, all around her, in pain, tires to get the blood out of her eye balls. She tries to focus, not really sure what is happening.

She crawls off the table, twists to the floor, moans, some how pulls her jeans back along her waist, double vision, snap, snap, snap, jean buttons re attached.

Sitting up, head spinning, real hurt on her body, wipes blood from her eyes and in all likely hood she is concussed, just doesn’t know it yet.

Ronnie, boots banging against the jukebox, face turning blue, eyes stark as suddenly a butt from a shotgun stock cracks Jason in the back of the head, crumpling him in his cape to the floor.

Ronnie, sputtering back from the power choke hold, inhales, moves to the felt, grabs his 45, gawks at Billy, who shrugs his shoulder. Ronnie, rubbing his neck, stares down at the caped man on the floor. Ronnie’s man, moves back to Arvan tilting the shotgun at his awed up face.

Cold, irate, he bends, pushes Jason’s cowl back.

His eyes look in shock at his blistered face, grabs a fist a long hair, ripping his head back. He is exposed, under the glaring light of the neon, first time, now caught within a cesspool of life he never wanted any thing to do with, to begin with.

Mandal, shocked, heart imploding, fury atoms smashing her brain, never seeing his face, unless bathed of moon, shadows and fire, glares at the reality she has brought into his world.

No pain now, neither pity, nor anything else but pure violence gripping her soul.

Mava, a mother after all, looks on in terror, eyes darting at Art, man holding the shotgun, his hand leaning on the bar, back at her son Jason, the only one she loves.

Ronnie Gee peeks at Billy, just ta make sure, gets into the monsters face.

“Ain’t no end ta surprises tanight. How ya doin’ war hero?

He glances at the blond, who seems dizzy fidgeting with her leather jacket zipper;

Good, he thinks, let’s strip her naked, make a party outta it.

Staring at Jason’s straining face, one that could of only have been created by Gods fire, Ronnie grins.

“Seems all a ya is sweet on this gal, a bit, my, my.”

Slowly, Mandal turns, makes eyes contact with Mava; something passes between the two woman.

Mava sees it, absolute hatred spewing out of Mandals once blue eyes, now dyed almost white and searing the blue away with abject loathing and fury.

She makes Mava look, with her eyes, as her hands moves slowly under the bomber jacket.

A little nod, she hopes Mava gets it; she prays Mava gets it.

Mava, eyes struck, knowing now that her Betty is something else, nods, touches Art arm. Art nods, glances at the man with the shot gun, hand on the bar, so much tension.

It is NOW, Mava knows it.

Placing the tip of the 45 against Jason Cox’s forehead, still holding a phalanx of hair, Ronnie lowers his face, seethes. “Maybe Jason, knowed where the money is?”

He looks up at Mava, leering at him.

“What ya think, Mava?” He hammers back the 45. “CLICK.”

“War hero boy a yers, think he knowed?”

Ronnie gee smiles, looks at Billy, more shrugs and, then at the blond still fiddling with her bomber jacket. Back into Jason’s face he goes.

“Whata ya think freak. Ya knowed where the money is ugly?”

“Ronnie.” A female voice filters into his brain.

In control, almost lethargic, he turns, releases Jason Cox’s hair, looks down at a kneeling Mandal.

Eyes lock, slow motion recognition, his brow crinkles as he turns his gaze Betty’s way.

What he sees is a very different pretty girl, which causes him some worry.

On her butt, both hands wrapped around an iron 44 cannon, aimed at him, she smiles.

Perhaps it is the last smile he will ever see. T

The gun bucks, smokes, flames, a bullet thumps, centered into his forehead, pasting blood splatter, brains and his wilds vibrating body against the wall.

No hesitating, she rolls, aims on Arvans guard. The gun bucks.

Arvan YELPS and falls to the floor.

Big Burt starts to sweep around as she squeezes her finger on the trigger mechanism.

Gun BUCK again.

Flames roar out of the tip of a 44 hand gun barrel, both hands steady, on the walnut, she fires off three more shots. “

BOOM, BOOM, BOOM.”

BThree hollow points catch him in the chest, sending him violently flopping over the bar, glass incinerating everywhere.

Mava’s guard, goes to lift his shot gun, finds it missing, meat cleaver stuck to the bar top, his twitching arm shaking on the bar.

The man screams, gawks at his bloody stump, get’s a smile from Art. Meat cleaver dug out of the bar top, raises.

“THUMP.”

Art drives the blade deep into his forehead.

Slow motion, smoke, cordite, Mandal stands, drops her 44 magnum, all most falls, her head dazed, but something is more important now.

She grabs Jason, wants no questions, no retribution once the gun shot echos, smoke clears.

He stand’s, she takes his arm, turns, runs towards the back door, Says. “The horses Jason.”

At the bar, she makes eye contact with Mava.

Mava’s eyes are sparkling and with Arvan laying on the floor, having avoided the blood spray, Billy simply watching, Mava’s eyes stare as her son and a most amazing Betty run out the door.

Cordite in the air, smoke everywhere, gun shots echos rescinding, the entire cast gather around the bar trying to put fingers on what just has happened.

Rubbing her sagging jaw, with a stunned Arvan looking on, Mava scrutinized the cadavers, pooled in blood, litered everywhere.

Billy looks at the severed arm, death everywhere, says. “Betty, go figure.”

Mava, sighs, pushes the arm off of the bar. “

Yeah, we’ll get to that later. I want ya boys ta clean up this mess. We’ll see what’s what a bit later. Close the bar down.”

Billy grabs a beer, sucks it down, lights a cigarette, with his Betty’s lighter. Stares at it, thinks the best he can, turns to his Ma and says.

“Sure Ma. Come on little brother, lets get some trash bags, the ‘Saw’s All’, the mops.”

Arvan, unnerved, no sass, nods as The Boys, no argument to their Ma, turn, walk away.

Mava looks at Art. He is stoic, turns and looks across the carnage wondering when the next homicide will occur. She sees something, walks across the bar, avoids the blood, picks up something, walks back to Art, slaps Bettys 44 magnum on the bar.

“I knowed there was somethin’ I like about that gal.”

Art, a rare chuckle, Mava leans in, kisses him, says. “Come on honey bunny, let’s relax a bit and talk a bit, okay.”

Cheek kiss for Mava, arm and arm and with her Zen Master of a meat cleaver, they stroll out the kitchens back door.

As they love birds stroll under the big Texas moon, chit chatting how they are going to murder her sons and lost during all the mayhem, one question was never asked.

And that question was.

“Where in the heck was, Sue?”