Long Schlong Silver

by Kade, Teagan

  Bobby’s shown me there’s more to life, even out here in the proverbial sticks. To lose him now would be…

  I perish the thought. I won’t have my negativity affecting the outcome here.

  I pick up another sandbag and throw it into place, sure as the sun rises I’m doing to get this done if nothing else.

  CHAPTER FORTY-TWO

  BOBBY

  This is no SEAL team in front of me, but it’s going to have to do.

  “Buck, Cephus,” I point. “You’ll be over in the trees there. Covering fire only, okay?”

  “Yes, sir,” comes the reply, Cephus saluting.

  I let it go.

  “Bobby.” The Sheriff runs up to me with his radio out. “Jed just called. They came past his place a couple of minutes ago, two SUVs.”

  I calculate the numbers in my head. “So we’re looking at a team of no more than fifteen. Past Jed’s that gives us, what? Five minutes?”

  The Sheriff nods.

  I clap my hands. “Go time, boys. Positions, and stay safe out there. Conserve your ammo. This isn’t Independence Day.”

  They dart off, leaving me standing there with the Sheriff.

  He looks over to his shoulder to where Gisele continues to stack up sandbags. She’s been an absolute trooper. I can’t help but smile watching her work.

  “What about your girlie?” asks the Sheriff. “Can’t have her out here in the firing line.”

  “I know. I’ll deal with it.”

  Bart appears from the gloom wearing a ghillie suit, his face caked in mud.

  “I don’t recall it being a costume party,” says the Sheriff.

  Bart just smiles back, only the whites of his teeth showing. “You mention that to me when you’re stumbling around out here full of lead.”

  The Sheriff clocks his rifle. “We’ll see about that, Bartholomew.”

  It’s odd hearing his full name.

  “You two good jerking off over here then?”

  The Sheriff tips his cap. “Go. We’re fine.”

  I run over to Gisele and place my hand on the sandbag she’s about to lift. “That’s enough. They’ll be here any moment.”

  “Where do you want me?” she asks.

  “You need to get down to Roxanne, lock yourself in the bathroom and don’t open that door for anyone but me, got it?”

  “I want to fight!” she yells.

  I shake my head. “It’s going to get ugly and I can’t have you out here. Please, we don’t have time to argue.”

  She nods, seeing the sense in it.

  I take a pistol from my back and hand it over. “It’s a revolver. Couldn’t be easier. Simply pull the hammer back, here, and fire—six shots. Got it?”

  “Bobby, I—”

  I take her by the shoulders. “You need to get going. Remember, don’t open that door for anyone but me. That’s important.” The gun looks strange when I press it into her hand, unnatural. “Go.”

  She continues to stand there. “Go!” I shout.

  She reaches with one hand and pulls me into a kiss, her skin cold but her lips warm, the rain snaking down between us.

  I break away breathless knowing I’m going to do whatever it fucking takes to keep her safe. I’ll lay down my life if I have to, and I’ll do it gladly.

  She gives one more nod and goes running off towards Roxanne.

  Someone shouts from the tree-line.

  They’re here.

  The entire thing takes all of two minutes, but that’s war. A split second makes all the difference.

  I hunker down with the Sheriff behind the sandbags. “Good luck,” I tell him.

  “Luck?” he laughs, checking his rifle one last time. “Son, you know as well as I do the more you sweat, the luckier you get, and I’m ready to go to god-damn work, yeah?”

  “Yeah,” I reply, eyeing the scene over the top of the sandbags.

  I see them, moving like wraiths through the rain, only the glint of their weapons giving any clue as to their intent.

  I give the signal and all hell breaks loose.

  War is chaos. Somewhere deep inside me I thought I might freeze up, take that pain I’ve felt for the last ten years and let it paralyze me.

  But it never happens.

  I think of Gisele and I want to fight. Getting back to her is the only thing that matters.

  I give the signal and the boys in the tree-line light it up.

  I don’t know what this crew was expecting, but I doubt it was a firefight. I see one of them go down, but the others quickly find cover where they can, moving fast.

  “Now!” I shout, standing in unison with the Sheriff to fire.

  I conserve my shots, looking for the most open areas on which to concentrate. The rifle kicks back against my shoulder and I welcome it, the comforting feel of metal against skin and bone, the reassurance it provides.

  I consider Bart for a moment waiting closer to the Gas & Tackle. They’re concentrated at the back of it, hiding between the shed and junk Bart keeps there, firing with automatic weapons towards our position.

  “Down!” I shout, the firing continuing unabated but somewhat dampened by the constant rain.

  The Sheriff crouches tight against the sandbags. I can feel the thud, thud, thud of rounds hitting the wall. This is no carnival attraction. These guys can shoot.

  I take another look, notice some of them have started to move forward, to gain ground.

  “Shit!” I stammer. “What’s Bart doing? He was supposed to fire on those gas tanks by now.”

  “Maybe he’s…” The Sheriff trails off, but I get the gist, a cold abyss opening up at the thought.

  “Could you hit the tanks with that rifle?” I ask. He shakes his head. “Out of range for me. You?”

  But distance was never my game, and he’s right. It’s too far. I shake my head, knowing our advantage is lost.

  Just then there’s an almighty boom, a fireball following big enough to light up everything around us like it’s the Second Coming.

  A second explosion follows, and a third, far bigger and more powerful than I expected, the ground continuing to shake long after they’ve stopped.

  I look up across the sandbags and see a couple of figures, or what’s left of them, strewn around the back of the Gas & Tackle, another two running around in the open on fire. One goes down after a couple of shots from the tree-line, the Sheriff managing to pick off the other.

  He looks at me smiling. “Yeah, boy. Told you I couldn’t fucking sho—”

  His last word’s caught in his throat, a terrible gurgle following as he brings his hand to his neck, blood spilling around his fingers.

  Fuck.

  He’s been hit, falling back to lean against the sandbags.

  His eyes are wide. I place my weapon down and pry his fingers from his neck.

  It’s nasty there, hard to see in the light exactly what’s going on.

  There’s more firing, more rat-a-tat-tat of weapons against the rain.

  It washes away the blood for a moment and I see the dark hole there where the bullet entered, feel the other side of his neck and sigh in relief when I find the exit wound.

  “It went through,” I shout, bringing his other hand up, “apply pressure, okay?”

  He nods.

  I see a figure streak past the end of the sandbag wall heading towards Roxanne.

  No, you don’t.

  I bring my weapon up, but he’s already covered too much ground.

  “I’ve got to go,” I announce, the Sheriff giving me a weak thumbs up. “Keep the pressure on.”

  I get up and run, keeping low, conscious of the rounds zinging over my head, my eyes trained on the dark shadow moving fast towards the houseboat. He’s got speed, this asshole.

  I spot something else moving from the side, ragged and non-descript at first.

  Bart?

  But I’m not the only one who sees him. The running figure spins and fires, Bart going down on one leg and rolling out of si
ght.

  Shit.

  Whoever this is, they’re going to fucking pay for that.

  I bring my weapon up, but he’s still out of range, kicking Roxanne’s front door down and moving swiftly inside.

  I double my pace, my legs and lungs burning up, ashen from the inside-out. I have to stop before he finds Gisele.

  I enter the houseboat just as he’s about to kick the bathroom door in, gun raised.

  “Hey, fucker!” I yell.

  His spins around to the sound of my voice wearing a balaclava and body armor, loaded up like he ordered every damn item in the surplus store.

  He fires, but I’m already balled up in a tight roll, peeling off to his left, coming up firing.

  The first round hits the top of his chest-plate, but the second and third pin his head to the wall. He slumps down.

  I kick his gun away and fire one more round into the top of his skull for good measure.

  I jump back when a shot comes from the bathroom, punching through the door, splinters of wood and dust falling over me as I drop to the floor.

  “It’s me!” I shout. “It’s Bobby. Don’t fire.”

  I get up slowly.

  “Bobby?” comes Gisele’s voice, shaky. “Bobby?”

  I hunker up against the wall just in case. “Put the gun down okay, nice and gentle. I’m opening the door.”

  I reach up to the doorknob and release it, pushing the door inwards and slowly poking my head around.

  Gisele’s sitting up against the vanity, the barrel of the revolver smoking. “Did I…”

  “You did,” I tell her, “but it’s alright now.”

  “Bobby!”

  I look down through the lounge. One of the locals, Buck, is standing there. “We got ’em, Bobby.”

  “You’re sure?”

  “The others are sweeping the place now.”

  “The Sheriff took a round to the neck,” I tell him.

  “We know. Luke’s looking after him.”

  “He’s a vet.”

  “And the Sheriff’s a fucking animal,” Buck smiles.

  “Bart?” I ask.

  The way Buck pauses forces that abyss open again. “Nasty shot to the leg, but he’s alive.”

  I help Gisele up, taking the revolver and holding her tight, kissing her. “It’s over,” I tell her. “It’s all over.”

  She places her hand on my chest.

  I shift, shielding her from the body against the wall. “Come on now. It’s about to get a whole lot busier around here.”

  CHAPTER FORTY-THREE

  GISELE

  The rain’s lifted a little, but it’s still coming down hard.

  Roxanne drifted off down-river a half hour ago, apparently washed up in the marshes, most of Bobby’s worldly belongings on their way south.

  Sitting beside me on the bench out front of the Gas & Tackle, he doesn’t seem particularly concerned.

  Ahead of us is a collection of emergency vehicles—ambulances for the Sheriff and Bart, both of whom seem stable, the latter stable enough to fire off a string of insults at Bobby as he was being wheeled away. The Sheriff wasn’t saying anything, too drugged out to know night from day.

  There’s a gaggle of police cars too, the odd cop coming over to check on us, ask more questions, and I know a lot more will come when the real heavy hitters arrive. I know they’ll be aiming their attention at me.

  Bobby places his arm around my shoulder, pulling me against his side. “Quite a night.”

  The rain’s a constant sheet of noise in the background. “You sure you’re in one piece?”

  He reaches for his head, his chest, his dick. “All the vitals seem in place.”

  I laugh, shaking my head. “What? You can’t live without that donkey dick of yours?”

  “Can you?”

  I roll my eyes, pulling the blanket the paramedics gave me tighter around myself. It’s coarse, but it’s warm. “There’s going to be fallout from this, you know.”

  “Which is why tomorrow morning I’m going public about the land titles.”

  I straighten up. “You sure that’s a good idea?”

  “Too many secrets keeping me down in the dark for too long, keeping everyone under for too long. It’s time for a bit of sunshine around here, a bit of… illumination. As soon as it’s out in the open there’s no way Knowles will come after me, us,” he corrects. “He can’t. This whole thing relied on him sneaking those titles away.”

  “And me?” I query. “Where do I fit into all of this? What am I going to say?”

  “The truth seems like a reasonable place to start.”

  I breathe in, the reality of the situation heavy on my shoulders. Still, I laugh at the absurdity of it all. “I built up this business for so long it’s become part of me. Cutting it out, letting it all go…”

  He takes me by the shoulders, holding my gaze. There, in those sapphire eyes I’ve come to love, I know I can do it, because he is here, by my side, my protector, my pillar of support, my everything. “I think we could both do with a fresh start, don’t you?”

  Yet still the doubt refuses to go. “I’ll have to give evidence at the very least. I could be charged.”

  “For what? Doing your job? You told me yourself. You’ve always kept it clean, documented everything.” He shakes his head. “Those powerful men you’ve worked for in the past won’t want this all aired out in public. They’ll reach out their tentacles to judges and the government officials, make sure this is all swept away nicely and you come out lemony fresh. It’s in their best interests.”

  He has a point, but it’s Knowles I’m most concerned about. He won’t take this lying down, even if I do expose him.

  As if reading my mind, Bobby says, “Even Knowles knows what this means. He’s played the game, he’s lost, and he’ll accept it.”

  “What makes you so sure?”

  Bobby’s eyebrows give a small jerk upwards. “Call it hillbilly intuition.”

  I knock my knee against his. “And what else is this ‘hillbilly intuition’ telling you?”

  “We need to get the fuck out of this wet and damp and somewhere warm, preferably with a big-ass shower I can have my wicked way with you in.”

  “Do you always think about sex?”

  His hand slides under the blanket, his grip tightening on my thigh. “Around a creature like you, can you blame me?”

  I kiss him. Because yes, he’s Bobby Silver and yes, he’s cheesy at times, overbearing, perhaps his own worst enemy, but he’s shown me his true colors, and they’re as vibrant and diverse as the brightest rainbow. He’s shown me he not only cares about others, about the wider world, but he cares about me—maybe more than anyone has, or maybe will.

  “God, I love you,” he whispers, the words sending a tiny tremor through my lips, his forehead against mine and the rain continuing to beat down around us. “I mean, I really, really fucking love you.”

  I place a finger on his lips. “Save it, Romeo.”

  He jumps back. “If you think I’m looking to go out with a vial of poison, think again.”

  I pout. “Not even for poor Juliette?”

  He takes my face in his hands. “Baby, I don’t think ‘poor’ and ‘Cole’ can co-exist, or are you ready to give up your life of luxury?”

  “Are you saying you’re going to fund my lavish lifestyle? Because I don’t come cheap, you know.”

  He brings his own finger up to draw my lower lip down, the pad of his finger brushing over my gum. “Better name your price then.”

  CHAPTER FORTY-FOUR

  GISELE

  THREE MONTHS LATER

  I don’t think I’ve ever seen the River Rat so full. The poor place is bursting at the seams.

  Bart’s standing up on the bar, cupping his hands around his mouth. “And now, ladies and gentlemen, the star of the show, the reeler of fish and most beautiful Tempterturnian since Yours Truly…”

  “Watch it!” Bobby shouts.

  “…Wi
nner of the State Championship with a whopping twenty-point lead, Ms. Gisele Coooooole!”

  The place erupts, and why the hell not? Apparently it’s been fifteen years since they had a State Champion in these parts.

  I enters smiling with genuine joy, holding the trophy afloat, a giant golden bass at the top of it.

  Bobby stops before me and holds the trophy aside so he can kiss me.

  “When are you going to catch the Beast?” someone shouts from the back of the room.

  I reach down and grab Bobby’s balls, hard enough for him to wince, his cheeks puffing out. “Looks like I already have.”

  The place erupts again, this time with laughter, though I’m sure Bobby is seeing fucking stars I’m gripping his balls so tight.

  “Babe,” he whispers.

  I let go, laughing. “Shit. Sorry. Guess I’m just caught up in the moment.”

  Bart arrives with two Firecrackers, handing a glass to each of us, reaching for the trophy. “Let me take that off your hands there while you drink.”

  “Enjoy it,” I tell Bart. “It’s the closest you’re ever coming to the Golden Bass.”

  He rubs the bass on the top of the trophy with his sleeve. “Ol’ Bart’s got a few tricks up his sleeve for the Beast yet, don’t you worry.”

  Bobby sniffs in the air. “You going to stink him out of the water?”

  He smiles. “Watch it, lover boy, before I shove this Golden Bass right up your golden—”

  He’s cut off as a bunch of locals sweep him off towards the bar, Bobby and me left standing there.

  “Come on,” says Bobby, taking me by the hand and leading me outside before anyone notices.

  He moves me into a quiet alcove behind the bar and presses me up against the timber cladding, one hand beside my head. The light dances in his eyes, in his entire expression as he watches me.

  “Guess I’m going to have to pass on the torch of being the local hero around here.”

  I hold his hips and breathe him in. “You’re still my hero.”