Friends From Home
SHE flops on the bed, hyperventilating, hands in her face as she think about old friends visiting from out of town.
Tony loves her, adores her, he wouldn’t be here if he didn’t, that’s good.
Other wise, snip, snip, snip, there goes the finger nails, a blow torch in the mouth, dead Mandal, but:
How to play Tony, how?
How does his love come into play?
Lightly armed, 38 in the boot, eight inch hunting knife there too; what decisions to make?
Only one left, “BLUFF.”
Perhaps true psycho love will prevail in the end.
Stands, weaves, grip on the valise, grabs Angel, moves to the back window, struggles it open, climbs out, moves to a dumpster, open its iron lids, stuffs the bag inside of it, then Angel too, pets her whispers,
“Shoo, Girl”.
She finds a card board box and wedge’s it between dumpster and lid, think’s that is good. If she dies Angel can climb out.
She closes the heavy iron lid back onto it.
Back through the window, on her stomach, under the bed, okay, still okay, good.
She crawls to the front door, does her thing, gives it a little tug, okay, groans, that’s the best she can do, she stands.
Deep breath, one of Jason’s Samurai’s now, courting death, no options left, play the last stand card.
She gulps her last bit of courage, moves to the window, glances back at the nail stuck into the bottom of the door, climbs out of the window.
No real day light yet, but threatening, she takes a deep breath as she scurries to the back of the bar. Body presses against the wall as she peeks around, sees two black leather thugs loitering around. She gulps her fear; she then slips through the door and into the bar.
In the shadows, she lingers, looks into the kitchen, gasps.
Mava, Art, riddled with bullet holes, deposited in pools of blood, are dead. Next to Art, is one of Tony’s men, a meat cleaver sticking out of his head; very dead.
“Fuck.” She moans, feeling a moment of remorse.
Her mind looses blood, she almost feints, leans against the wall, forcing her to stay up right.
Somehow, her brain stays alive as she glances behind the bar, sees Sue’s shotgun bracketed under the bar top. Her only plan, her last plan, does not involve weaponry.
Yet, no bodies fool, except her self, she makes a mental inventory of the shotgun, 38, knife, complex ideas rack her aching head, her suicide plan. She knows if bullets simply will be not enough, that Tony’s feverish lust for her, that MUST be enough and more important than all the shot guns in the world, she gets it
Taking a step forward, she does not feel the massive shadow that is now falling over her body.
From behind her, a pair of hands, more powerful than any mans on Earth, wrap around her waist, engulfing it easily.
She YELPS, struggles, is lifted off her feet, boots banging someones legs. It is impossible to move free, as she glimpses Dim Dim’s numb face, eyes devoid of blood, feeling nothing, over her shoulder. She deflates, becomes limp as the giant walks across the bar and, then out the door.
Over near Arvans garage, the party has just begun, some huge men mingling. Just off the bar there are tables, chairs, a cozy setup. Anthony Uruguay, looking like a Cape-Buffalo wearing an Italian suit sits, smoking one of his Cuban Cigars.
Standing on the porch, leaning against the outside wooden wall, is, GULP, Bobby Ugo. He looks smartly dressed, though the look in his hell driven eyes makes Mandals mind go all dizzy.
He does not look happy seeing her, though as he smiles. She could be wrong about that, for all of the obvious wrong reasons. She glances, sighs, as the three remaining thugs walk over, are quiet as they smoke, loiter, wait for orders of what to do next.
Moving in front of Tony, he sucks at a sody pop through a straw. Dim Dim drops her to her knees, at his thousand dollar pair of Crock loafers.
Kneeling, her head is bowed for what in the world can she say, or do, for the frying pan is blistering flames and she is in it.
Gee Tony, I love you, miss you, was just going to come home. Filters through her brain.
Dim Dim, steps to the side, moves to the outdoor porch, stalls out, leans against a wall wondering what time lunch is.
Casual, Tony lowers his thick hand, layers his meat fingers upon her blond hair, which is stained with blood. Slowly, he is a man in love after all he places his fingers under her chin and, then lifts. Her face is trembling, so frail, just a little girl that made one little mistake.
He gazes at her through slits for eye sockets, places his cigar between his bulbous lips, inhales and, then exhales, careful not to blow smoke in her face.
She gulps, sighs, see’s conflicting emotions in his face, many she can not compute.
He hasn’t out right tortured and murdered her yet, that’s good.
Looking at the red ember of his cigar, she is waiting for him to plunge it into her eye. Instead, he asks.
“What have ya done to your self?”
Her lips quiver, a little smirk falls on her lips.
She shrugs her shoulders, her brow crinkles, she looks silly, says nothing and look’s like she just got her hand caught in the cookie jar.
She looks so precious, so hurt, bad girls often get boo boos, scrapes on their knees, their throats cut when they are bad.
Tony’s wants to weep for his mischievous little prankster girl looks so sad.
“I have missed you. A man misses his wife, when she is suddenly gone. Did ya plan on comin’ back ta me...Did ya, darling?”
Sniffles, nose running and mixing with drying blood; weeper tears falling down her cheeks.
She reminds herself that everyone dies; some people sooner than later.
Booby Ugo looks on, so furious by the whore’s new game. It is all he can do not to leap forward and cut her fucking tongue out of her head.
He does not.
Tony touches the collateral damage on her face, he says.
“I see you have spun yer web here. The Hillbilly wanted you. Tough little man, but foolish, yes Mandal”
She smirks, bad girl shrugs of her shoulders, sees a sigh of pity, hopefully for her in his face.
“You know, don’t you, Mandal? What Anthony Uruguay owns, he owns forever.”
She peeks at Bobby Ugo, the nine millimeter dangling at his side, his Dracula eyes welded on her and, then at Dim Dim, the three thugs, feels her 38 in boot, knife too as she realizes there are few options left.
Friends from Jersey are visiting. How to get out alive? Maybe grab a jet; Scoot into Dallas. Rent a car with one of Tony’s stolen Credit card. Nice touch, that. Zoom back to Jason, scoop him up, do it all over again. How fucked up can one girl be?
“To...Tony...I...I...I...I’m sorry, Tony honey. I...I just needed some time...you know...away...I...I was coming back, really baby.”
Great, this feels good, keep on going and just ignore the way Bobby Ugo is leering at you.
“You know, baby, it was...was...was kinda, kinda like a vacation, that’s all....Darling.”
She smiles, not asking herself why she would need Tony’s 700 large for a little flirt to Texas for a girl vacay.
Tony plugs his mouth with his cigar, inhales deeply and watches the red glow.
She leers as Tony lays it near her cheek.
Anthony Uruguay like Dim Dim is an artist of persuasion with many different implements. She knows that quite well.
Blues, eyes, tick, tick, tick, at the burning ember. Feeling the heat on her eyeballs, she knows the stogy is one of his favorite PROPS for his kind of persuasive kind of pillow talk.
“A vacation. That was all it was. Just a little time a way, Mandal? “
Tony crunches his jaw, purses his fat, wet lips, nods.
Mandal feels good, he seems to understand, what a great guy. Bobby Ugo, feeling bile in his mouth, almost throws up as his hand tenses on the grip of his nine nines.
“Yes...Yes Tony...I...I was coming back after...I...just a little vacay...I...I love you.”
“BINGO. A WINNER. Give the girl the matching set of dinner place mats and throw in the pink brocade napkin rings too.
Tony tilts his head, his mind spinning. After seemingly a life time of desperately wanting to hear those words, there, right there, gazing through loves eyes is his girl that he loves.
Is it possible? Are his girl’s eyes saying the very words he has wanted more than any kind of reason, perhaps so.
Though, having been bad, he’s going to have to ground her, a little, of course. Punish her a bit and maybe take her Yoyo away from her. Maybe cut her fucking horses heads off with a chain saw, right in front of her, nothin’ that bad, but ain’t she swell.
Bobby Ugo looks on in awe, finger exerting pressure on his trigger mechanism, 9 millimeter suddenly feeling very hot; his eyes bolted wide open.
Imaginary steam is boiling his brain alive, as through his mind, like a Wall Street Ticker, the words: ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME? JUST LET ME KILL THE WHORE cinder bye.
“Of course you was Mandal. You love yer Tony, don’t ya?” Lowering his hand, he takes one of hers, “ Come sit, on Daddy’s lap...Lets talk a little bit.”
“Okay honey, baby, only you Tony darling. I...I...I was coming back, please honey, really.”
She rise’s, reels, double vision again, fear, beat to shit, does that to a girl. Her body lithe settles onto his massive thighs, her face just inches from his fat lips as a pork roast wraps around her waist, the other on her lap.
She smells garlic, cigar smoke and she wants to puke.
Sucking on the cigar, her eyes revolve around the burning tip, waiting for it to be pressed into her skin.
“You’ve been a bad little girl Mandal, Do ya think ya should be punished for being such a bad girl?”
Wrecked, tears spilling down her face, nose running, mixing with blood dripping down her chin from fear, she replies, again morphing in to the hellion he loves.
“Sure, baby, I know I’ve been a bad girl. I need to be punished.” She giggles, ”Maybe a good spanking...I want to be a better wife...for you...Honey.”
God, she is so precious.
Tony thinks, stares at the red amber, Mandal too.
“Do you have something fer me? Somethin’ that don’t belong ta ya?”
“Sure, baby, sure...Every penny. I got it hidden, real good. Over there in my room, number #6.” She nods across the grounds to the motel rooms, “All of it. I took real good care of it. It’s yours baby.”
TIME FOR THE BLUFF.
“Let me get it for you...come on, I’ll show you...It’s in the heating duct.”
Raise, or fold now, its all in, everything on the green felt now.
Like an addict, never wanting to be far from his opiate, Tony looks at Bobby, jerks his head at the motel rooms and, then says. “Bobby, get the boys ta check it out.”
Bobby sniffs hard, his anger, lets his finger pressure relax, turns to his three soldiers, violently whips his head at the motel. “Number #6, go get it.”
The men nod, begin to walk off towards the Motel as Dim Dim stands like a Pyramid wondering when his next feed bag is.
Bobby checks on Dim Dim holding up the building, figuring the big fella is hungry. His mind burns, not yet, see what Tony does, yet, time to get on with it. He hates when Dim is hungry.
Tony, turning his attention back to his girl peruses her battle scars, sighs.
“Look what ya done, ta yerself.” He giggles, shakes his head back and forth, say’s, “What am I gonna do wit, ya?”
Smiling, sniff, sniff, sniff, sweet, a rascal, little girl tears, blushing, brushing her face against his hanging jowls, she whispers. “I don’t know, Tony. Take my TV privileges away.”
Tony laugh’s, hugs her tighter, almost cracking an already broken rib, just loving her to death.
Bobby, thoroughly sickened now, snorts the bile out of his throat, making choices now, pretty clear on them now.
As Mandal, Tony baby talk, Paulie, Jimmy’s son, Aunt Ruthie’s brother in Bay Shore, and Paulie Jr., Big Mikes son, and Mikie, Paulie Sr.’s boy out of Tom’s River move towards the the Motel and room #6.
Hand guns dangling at their sides and little discussion between them, besides reloading on more cigarettes, all three men move to the porch and stand in front of Tony’s whore’s motel room.
“Ya think Tony’s gonna kill her?” Paulie Jr. asks, as the other thug’s chuckle.
“Naw, The Fat Man loves her. He ain’t gonna kill her.” Paulie, not Jr. replied.
“Come on, lets get the Fat Mans dough.” Mikey, says.
In total agreement about the smokes, the money, they stand before the door. Paulie Jr. twist’s the door knob and, then barges into the room, his two nicotine addicted cronies following in right behind him.
“CLICK.”
The tied by string trigger of the 38 under the bed moves.
The hammer of the thirty eight, tied to the string, nailed to the door, pierces the copper firing cap,
“KABOOM.”
The bullet hits the blasting cap, detonating the dynamite, the cans of bulls eyes, it all go.
“KABOOOM.”
The BLAST is so violent it literally vaporizes the three men as well as most of the Motel. Blasting into the air, schrapanel, debris, cash from under the bed, body parts, fire, smoke all of it engulf the complex.
The blast, far enough away not to destroy the cafe/bar setup rumbles the bar and as collateral damage rains down upon Tony, Mandal, Bobby, and Dim Dim, who is staring at the pretty fire works, Mandal sighs.
Mandal goes to moves and wraps his vice grip around her wrist. Bobby begins to lift his gun, as Tony seethes. “You don’t love me.”
She smirks as he bucks her off of her lap, one knee jerk. She hits the floor, on her golden butt, twists around, kneels before him, arms out stretched as if she is praying to Jesus, beg storming from her trembling lips and pretty blue eyes as she does.
Tony looks at Bobby Ugo, whispers. “Kill her.”
Bobby slowly shakes his head back and forth, grins, lifts the 9 MM and point’s the silenced barrel directly at her forehead.
They lock eyes. They are two great predators knowing now one will die.
Bobby whispers. “You’re pathetic.”
She closes her eyes, then “Psssst, pssssst.”
The bullets whiz, she is dead. She thinks.
No angels, no harps, no flames of a burning hell, just not yet.
Her eyes open.
She looks at Bobby Ugo, smoke drifting out of the tip of the silencer snugged tight to his 9 MM hand gun. He is leering at Tony.
She turns, sees a bullet hole between Tony’s eyes and, then red blood pumping out from a hole in his heart.
Mandal, back and forth, Tony, Dim Dim, Bobby, Dim Dim as she pretty much knows what is coming by the look in Bobbies eyes.
He flicks the silencer at her, says through ice cubes for a voice.
“You, whore. You didn’t think you’d get off as easy as that, did ya?”
He tics the barrel at Tony and, then like he is scolding her, he waves the barrel back and forth in front of her eyes.
“Noo, noo, noo, noo. It ain’t gonna be nice, like I done fer Tony. If I remember, right. Ya like pain, don’t ya?”
She remains silent. She has a head ache, no Tylenol, no Cyanide either to make the pain that’s coming, to make it go away.
“What...Ya got nothin’ cleaver to say? What! No French, Italian smart remarks? No grift?” He laughs.
“The fucking Braniac. What, cat got yer tongue?”
He moves before her, tilts her face up with the tip of the silencer under her chin.
He has waited for this moment for ten years, is enjoying it and does not want it to end.
She lowers her face to her breasts, not feeling fear, but actually relief that it is finally going to end.
“Nothing up lifting, brilliant to say? How about some a that French poetry always spewing from your filthy lips...No...?”
He giggles, taps her hard on the top of her head with the silencer, whispers. “Hello, nobody home?”
His joke makes him laugh, she does not.
He looks down on her, feels disgust, say’s. “Yer no fun. But your gonna be. No, no more cute stuff?”
No more fight, she is simply silent.
“I didn’t think so.” Bobby says, happy now.
Turning to Dim Dim, he says casually. “Dim, get the torches.”
“Okay Bobby.”
Dim Dim begins to turn and, then.
“THWACK” an arrow impacts his thick chest.
As if entertaining a bee sting, the giant glances at the carbon, steel tipped arrow embedded into his beer keg chest
He looks at his mentor and says. “Bobby.”
Turning his head, Bobby Ugo looks at his Dim, his brow crinkles; there’s a fucking arrow protruding out of his chest.
“THWACK.”
Another arrow thumps into Dim Dim’s chest. “Bobby.”
“Dim.” Bobby whispers, as he feels Mandal scurrying around his feet.
“THWACK.”
A third arrow impacts Dim Dim’s beef shoulder.
“Bobby.”
“Dim.”
Mandal, finally fumbling her 38 out of her boot, Bobby leers at her, groans and as she lifts it with vibrating hands he disgustedly kicks it out of her fingers, breaking two of them.
Flopping to the floor, she screams in agony, rolling around, clutching her fingers.
Bobby, standing on the porch, looks through the beginning of dawn at Dim and, then out across the mauve world. His eyebrows crinkle, for a man, in a crouch, at least he thinks it’s a man, is pulling back on a bow string, arrow slotting on the guide.
Seeing the silhouette of Jason Cox can be unsettling, eerie, not to mention down right queer as Bobby whispers. “What the fuck.”
He watches, as if in slow motion as the arrow whizzes out of the shadows and, then.
“THWACK.”
His eyes go stark, as he whips his head, stares in disbelief as the arrow stakes right through Dim Dim’ throat, staking him to the wall. The giant clutching the arrow, his carotid artery severed, gurgles in blood.
“Bo...Bo...Bobby.”
Instantly, Bobby whips around, aims his 99 M at the crouching figure,
PSSST, PSSSST, PSSST, PSSST, spits out of the barrel of his silenced automatic.
The cowled man goes down as Bobby leers at his Dim Dim, hands wrapped around the arrow, eyes numb, staring straight ahead, dead, maybe.
Stunned at the death of his giant friend, he stares down at Mandal who now is kneeling, straight up, glaring at him, a knife in her hands, suspended in her shaking hands.
He seethes, cocks the hammer, presses the silencer to her head, seethe’s again. “You whore.”
Suddenly, out of nowhere, Angel appears, attacking his ankle, digging her sharp teeth into his flesh, growling, shaking her head back and forth.
Like Billy had done, he flicks his leg, sending her yelping, sprawling into the dust, smoke and the debris of the atomized Motel.
She does a tumble, rights herself, growls. He fires a shot off at her. Dust kicks up, she squeals, yelps, yelps, yelps away.
With every ounce of her straining against the pain she is consumed in, she rises to a full kneeling position with both hands holding the hunting knife raised above her head.
She bellows, plunges the knife down through Bobby’ Ugo’s expensive alligator loafer, impaling his foot to the floor.
Bobby Ugo screams, twists around, gawking down at his blood soaked foot and, then at the swaying whore, hands at her side, giggling, leering back at him.
He tries to move his foot, he cannot.
Enraged, he lifts the 9 millimeters silenced barrel, presses it against her forehead.
Their eyes fuse for the last time. They are two ultimate warriors locked within a final battle of a war created by only one of them.
She grins, causing him to hesitate for the briefest moment.
His finger presses, against the trigger.
She grins through blood teeth at him.
“THWACK.”
An arrow detonates into his forehead, piercing out through the back of his head, staking his head too the wooden wall.
She stares at him, gun barrel pressing to her forehead, she does not move, she is enthralled.
His eyes are curious, pad locked to hers.
Shes sees his finger pressing against the trigger, it is vibrating. Their eyes, never friends before, are now as one.
She sees him struggling, he wants to make that finger work, just a centimeter more; one spasm more, just a bit more and he will win. Yet, whatever part of his brain that issues such a command, seems UN wired, and she sees it in his eyes.
Still alive, she smiles as his hand, still holding the gun as it slides to his side. His finger’s open and the 9 millimeter clangs at the lucky whore’s knees.
With a super human will, she bends, groans from the physical pain, wrap’s her fingers around the gun.
She stares at Bobby Ugo, stands, doubles over from her injured rib, straightens, looks into Bobby Ugo’s still living eyes.
She knows he can see her. He knows she can see him. She grins.
She backs up a step and with out hesitation, she raises the 9 millimeter in her good hand; the one with out the broken fingers and points it at his heart.
His eyes tick, blink as.
Pssst, pssst, pssst.” She shoots him three times in the heart.
With dead eyes never leaving her eyes, he slumos, still impalied by the arroew staked into the wall.
She crumples to her knees, lowers her head, vomits blood and bile, trying to keep from passing out.
Slowly, she rises to her knees, looks at the arrow in his forehead, whispers. “Jason.”
Bobby’s gun along her hip, she moves past Dim Dim who is gurgling something, maybe after death breath words about candy bars.
Just in case, she shoots him twice in the heart.
Turning, she stares at the first rays of the sun filtering over the mountain tops into the morning. She sees him, covered in his cape and laying on the ground.
Head spinning, she kicks the double vision out of her head, begins to limp towards him. Once along his side, she falls to her knees, peeks at the arrow quiver, the bow and, then gently the blood on his chest, staining against his white cotton tunic. On her knees, a new purple light bathing his face, she takes his head, sweetly lays it on her lap.
His eyes open, he sees her, he coughs and, then smiles, says. “How’d we do, Sluggo?”
He begins to cough lightly, blood gathering on his lips as she touches strands of hair from his face, loving the feeling of his long hair entwined within her fingers.
She giggles, more in pain, more from loss now, this loss of love.
“We won, darling...We won.”
He smiles, coughs, looks up at her, smiling, loving her, cherishing her, adoring her, he whispers.
“Just think...all...all I had to...to do.” He coughs. She holds his hands tight, “Wa...was sit in a barn for so many years.” Coughs, blood seeping out of the side of his mouth, “And the most amazing woman on earth, found me...He tenses, his beautiful face straining, “Loved me.”
He goes silent, as tears flow down her eyes, her body trembling, knowing now; knowing that his love has given her a second chance at life.
“No, not so amazing, darling.” She whispers, as he coughs, closing his eyes and, then reopening them, he whispers.
“No sadness. No more pain. Promise me, beauty?”
Pushing a strand of hair away from his face, she murmurs. “Promise.”
He smiles, closes his eyes as she squeezes his cold hands, which men of greed would feel as cold.
She felt as if it were fashioned of gold..
His breath ceases and, then time moved and as she held him his body becomes cold.
As the world turned to greys and the color of a mauve dawn she did now know how much time passed, she did not know.
With tears spilling down her face, mixing with so much blood she leans in, one more kiss, she places it along his lips.
Slowly, ever so tenderly, she raises her face as the first true yellow beams of sunlight spill from the sky, gracing her face.
She feels warm.
The Sun is keeping her alive, nourishing her as he had done as has transformed a monster into a human being, she knows now, for the first time.