10

Trent eased the door to the apartment open and turned around to hush the girl. Kristi? Crystal? He couldn’t remember. Smoking hot body though.

Two beers and six shots of tequila made it tough to walk through the darkened apartment without bumping into every piece of shitty cream-colored furniture in the place. She laughed every time he stubbed a toe or clipped his hip on a side table, like he was the king of comedy.

Midway through the room she sat down on the couch, lifting her short black skirt as she did, and said, “Where are we going anyway? Come on and fuck me right here on this couch already.”

“No, no, no, baby. Come on. My room is better. You don’t know who’s been on this couch.” Probably you, he thought, mentally reminding himself not to forget to put on a condom.

She giggled and grabbed his hand as he led her to his room.

Before they left the bar, she’d promised him a few lines of coke, but it turned out to be cheap home-cooked meth, the kind that is more plentiful than sand in the Southwest. He did them anyway, the powder burning in his nostrils.

Speeding from the crystal, he fucked hard and fast and lasted all of a minute and a half. Not that she noticed.

When they caught their breath and he pulled out, she got up to go to the bathroom and he watched her walk away, her perfect ass catching a flattering side light from the bedside lamp. Her skirt bunched up around her hips, her thong sat in a ball on the pillow next to Trent, and she hadn’t been wearing a bra all night long. Those things would have stood straight in a hurricane.

When she shut the door, he reached for his smokes and lit one. He got out of bed, reached up to slide open the window over the headboard. It opened onto the back parking area, with a view of a Dumpster and the identical apartment building next door, but at least it let some of the smoke out so he wouldn’t get too much of an ass chewing from Lars in the morning.

He couldn’t believe the way the old man hesitated. Making excuses, bringing Nikki Senior into it. Lars was so scared shitless of being outdone by the new blood that he froze up and put on the stall.

Yeah, good luck, old-timer. Tomorrow you’ll both be dead.

No matter what his father said, Nikki Junior wanted Mitch the Bitch dead. Lars too, on principal.

Trent pulled off the used condom hanging shriveled on the end of his shrinking dick. Looking like a post-molting snake skin, he deposited the generic-brand condom in a glass next to the bed with a half inch of warm Root Beer in it and immediately flicked ash on top. The sight grossed even him out, and he pushed the glass away behind the phone.

Depending on what Lars said in the morning about his talk with Nikki Senior, Trent had several contingency plans. All of them culminated in killing Mitch inside his own house, preferably while his wife watched, then taking out Lars and snagging the keys to that sweet ride.

Then again, something could be said for doing Lars first, taking his car and doing Mitch second. It might even be worth saying fuck it to the return airfare and driving the Mustang back east. A nice little road trip vacation.

Ugh, not with her.

The girl came out of the bathroom, the toilet still gurgling, body still smoking, the face showing signs of too much booze and crystal. She walked crooked. She wiped her mouth, and Trent got the feeling she’d vomited while she was in there. The tequila shots or was she bulimic? Who gave a shit?

“You got to go now, baby.”

She started to crawl back into bed. “I kinda thought I’d be spending the night. Maybe a little round two action.”

Trent exhaled smoke up to the open window.

“Sorry, baby. Not tonight. Big day tomorrow.”

She ran fake fingernails across a tattoo of the Black Flag logo inked above his heart. “Are you sure, baby? You can do anything you want to me.”

He stared at the ceiling. Chugged smoke and dropped ash in bed.

She licked his nipple. “You can fuck me in the ass, baby.”

“Yeah, you’re really gonna have to go now.”

She sat up sharply. “What the fuck, dude?” She didn’t remember his name either.

“I told you. Work in the morning. Rain check on the ass fuck though.”

“As if.” She snapped up her thong from the pillow and started angrily gathering the few things she had with her. “You at least have cab fare?”

“No. You can always blow him. That should be worth a trip along the scenic route.”