He’d been told to stay quiet and remain out of sight. But it was just too damn hard to do. For Christ’s sake, he had needs.
For chrissakes! For chrissakes! For chrissakes!
Keeping the women there, alive, hurt so badly. It felt like he’d been kicked in the balls and his nuts hadn’t dropped back out of his stomach. Novak never liked to keep them around for longer than it took for him to satisfy his desires. Sometimes that only took a day. Other times it lasted for weeks. Now he had two locked up. Used to think that was one too many. But he had begun to realize the benefits. Maybe his partner wasn’t so wrong. In some ways, at least. Sure, Alice was easy to deal with. But he needed the magic of pharmaceuticals in order to subdue Cassie. And that just wasn’t as much fun. He never enjoyed fucking the dead ones, and it felt too much like that with her.
Only warmer.
The bus ran on a twenty-minute schedule and would continue to do so for another couple of hours. He’d watched this spot before. It was sketchy, for sure. The inhabitants of this side of town weren’t always kind to him, though he’d rarely dabbled in Hispanic or African American women. Not since he’d relocated. They really had no reason to treat him like a jerk here.
“Don’t screw around with any more women until we’re out of this mess.”
His partner was so condescending toward him. Novak had explained his needs, and that was the asshole’s response. Novak realized he had little choice in the matter, though. The other guy could put a bullet in Novak’s skull, and then the man would be a hero. The world wouldn’t know his dirty secrets. And if Novak tried to make a pre-emptive strike against him, well, let’s just say that would be suicide.
That might be nice, too.
His thoughts bounced from Alice to Cassie to the thought of taking his life, or perhaps that of his partner. The squealing brakes of the bus pulling up—a new opportunity to make a friend!—distracted him from his wandering brain.
The first few women who got off simply would not do. Too old. Too tall. Novak spat across the walkway into the hedges. A man exited, followed by his two sons.
“Keep moving,” Novak whispered. “Keep moving.”
And then he saw her. My, she was fine. Not too tall, and probably not all that strong. Perfect. He didn’t want to deal with another fighter. Someone he could subdue rather easily would be better for what he had in mind.
The woman looked back and waved and smiled at the bus driver. They were on a first name basis. How cute. She was light-skinned with long, straight hair that was black at the roots and red interspersed throughout. Was it a weave? He chuckled to himself. He knew little about such matters. He didn’t care, anyway. Her shorts rode into her ass crack and her shirt was cut so that it just covered her breasts. She’d practically invited him over to her place.
Novak shoved his hands into his pockets, tucked his chin to his chest, and began following her. Flecks of stone trapped in the sidewalk cement shone in the sunlight. He traced a path from one to the other. His fist wrapped around the spring-loaded batons he carried. One in each pocket. If anyone got near him, they’d find their skull bashed in faster than they could say hey what are you doing with those batons.
With every store and bar the woman approached, Novak felt a tremble of excitement. It would be here, there, the next one. One of them? He wanted an opportunity to talk to her. Try to win her over. It was so much fun that way, you know, when they believed him. Trusted him. Invited him in to play.
But she kept walking, shaking her round ass, the shorts digging in further. She pulled out her cell phone and stared down at it. She better put it away before stepping onto the street, lest a driver might take care of her before Novak could.
A group of guys sitting on a stoop spoke rudely to her. Novak squeezed the baton grips. Talk to me, cocksuckers. He averted his eyes after she passed. Before they took notice of him. There were five of them and one of him. The batons only gave him the edge on the first one or two. After that, they could overtake him and then it would be his skull in danger.
The guys said something to him as well, but it went in as noise and was drowned out by the chaos within. He heard their laughter. Chumps. They were good for nothing except sitting on those steps harassing women and trying to intimidate white guys like Novak.
The woman looked back. Her eyes locked on Novak’s. His chest tightened in on his heart. The moment was fleeting and gone before he knew it. She’d paid him no attention. She’d regret that. Oh, how she would regret that.
Shit.
What was she doing?
She stopped to talk to another woman. This one was nowhere near good enough for Novak. She wouldn’t even do for target practice. Was she testing him? Seeing if he was following her? A quick glance around was enough to realize that he was the least threatening thing on the block. If you went by looks, at least.
He couldn’t stop, too. That’d be so obvious. She’d know he was following her. Then the game would have to begin anew. He’d have to find another as perfect as her. And that was no easy feat on this side of town. He spat into a trashcan and kept moving, slowing ever so slightly as he passed by. She smelled of roses and cinnamon. How would she taste?
Ah, there it was. Cover. He ducked into the vinyl shop and greeted the old guy with the gray afro behind the counter with a hello. The guy lifted his chin an inch before going back to his MacBook.
Crazy ass cracker. That’s what he’s thinking. I’d love to show him how crazy I can be with this baton right here.
“Help you find anything in particular?”
The address of that sweet Black ass outside your store?
“Sir?”
That’s right. You better call me sir, bitch.
“No, thank you, I’m just browsing for a present for my mom.” Novak lifted his eyes, smiled at the guy, then went back to rifling through a stack of worn album covers while keeping the street in his view.
“All right. Just give me a shout you need anything in particular.”
Novak’s mind eased a bit. Something about the guy’s baritone voice. The maniacal thoughts dissipated and he let go of his baton. For the first time since entering the neighborhood, he removed both hands from his pockets.
A record caught his eye. The Supremes. One of his mother’s favorites. The only one he recalled, as a matter of fact. She’d left him early in life. Dad told him she’d run off. But he found out the son of a bitch had killed her after she had found out he’d spent their rent money on a couple of prostitutes. Not that mom had the best reputation, of course. That’s why dad was never charged. Cops were happy to get rid of her and must’ve figured he’d take off sooner or later, too. But when a few more bodies of women similar to her turned up, they couldn’t look the other way anymore.
The beauty outside walked past the store, glancing through the window, nodding at the old guy’s afro. Her gaze never landed on Novak. Good or bad? He couldn’t decide. He wanted her to want him. She would. She definitely would whether she wanted to or not.
He pulled out his wallet, dropped a twenty on the counter and left with Mom’s favorite album. He thought so, at least. She was dead, so what did it matter?
Half a block separated him from his latest love. Too much distance. He picked up the pace and got within a hundred feet. Most of the row houses here had a street level apartment. The one she stopped in front of was no different. She disappeared behind the front stoop. By the time he reached where she had been, she was no longer underneath the stairs that led to the house above her little nook in the city. Novak ducked under and out of sight. He backed into the shadows and waited there for a moment.
The front door was solid. The windows were shored up with thick drapes and iron bars. He looked back through the thin slits between the stairs. No one was watching. Hell, there wasn’t anyone around.
Are you smart enough to welcome me in?
He reached for the handle. Unlocked! It turned out she had spotted him and knew he was coming and she wanted him inside.
A cool blast of air rushed out. The place had that old musty smell a lot of ground level apartments in Savannah had. He’d adjust. It opened into a large room the width of the place. It was minimally furnished with two chairs and a television on one side, and a small dining table with two chairs on the other. Two chairs…a roommate? The floor was concrete finished smooth. A door protruded into the hallway past the main room. Light seeped out. There was the sound of running water and R&B music. Oh, how perfect. She was getting ready for him.
Novak reached into his pocket and pulled a baton out. With the flick of his wrist, he whipped it open and used it to push the door the rest of the way. The light came from over the shower. Her silhouette danced on the curtain. His mouth watered now.
He pulled the door shut, turning the handle so it wouldn’t click, then leaned back against the wall.
His frustrations were about to be relieved.