by Andy Rausch
“Well, hell, Brooks,” said Lefty, now sitting up.
“What?”
“You sure killed the hell out of that guy.”
“I guess so.”
“Typical Brooks,” said Dixie, audibly irritated. “You always gotta go too far.”
Brooks looked at her, an annoyed expression on his face. “What are you going on about, woman?”
“You didn't need to do all that.”
“What?” asked Brooks. “The guy had it coming.”
“He did, but you went overboard like you always do. You brought a bazooka to a knife fight.”
Brooks shrugged. “I won't apologize for what I did. It got the job done.”
“Of course you won't apologize,” said Dixie. “You never apologize.”
“Bullshit,” said Brooks. “I used to apologize all the time. It feels like the only thing I ever did when we were together.”
Dixie looked at Lefty. “You wanna hear a typical Brooks Barker apology? He would say the wrong thing and piss me off. Then he would say something like, 'I'm sorry you're mad.' He wouldn't take responsibility for any of it. He was never sorry for the thing he did, he was just sorry that I was mad. He put all the blame on me.”
“Fiddlesticks,” Brooks said.
“Fiddlesticks?” asked Lefty. “How the hell old are you?”
Brooks looked at him. “What's that supposed to mean?”
“No one under the age of 264 should ever use the word 'fiddlesticks.'”
Dixie laughed. Layla was standing there, still holding the pistol. “What is fiddlesticks, Daddy?”
“It's just a made-up word that old men use,” said Dixie.
Brooks rolled his eyes.
“Does that mean Brooks is old?” asked Layla.
“The man was there when they invented dirt,” said Lefty.
Layla didn't understand. “What does that mean?”
“It means he's really fucking old, kid,” said Dixie.
After stopping at the pharmacy to get medical supplies, they returned to the motel, where Dixie skillfully removed the bullet from Lefty's shoulder. They had considered going somewhere else and getting new rooms since De Lorenzo's goons knew where to find them, but they decided against it. “I'd like to see them try that shit again,” said Lefty. “I'll send every single one of 'em to hell.”
“I thought you didn't believe in hell,” said Brooks.
“It's hyperbole,” said Lefty. “There really is nowhere else for me to say I'd send 'em that sounds quite so menacing.”
“Except Detroit, and we're already there.” Brooks looked over at Layla, who was sitting criss-cross-apple-sauce on the bed, coloring.
“Dixie, why did you hate Spook?” asked Lefty.
Dixie looked at him incredulously. “Is that some kind of joke?”
“No, I was just wondering.”
“Have you met the man?”
“Oh, I've met him,” said Lefty. “And I hate him too, but I know the reasons I hate him. I just wondered why you hated him.”
Dixie pondered this for a moment before saying, “He was the meanest sonofabitch I ever met, and I was married to a real prick.” Lefty and Dixie both looked at Brooks and chuckled. Brooks just shrugged. “Spook was argumentative and he hated women,” continued Dixie. “He was a real piece of work, that man.”
“Do you think I'm like him?” asked Lefty.
“Fuck no,” said Dixie. “Do you wanna be like him?”
“Fuck no.”
Brooks spoke up, changing the subject. “Now that we know the Professor is here, we'd better get Bruno De Lorenzo taken care of as quickly as possible. Do you think he'll go after him tonight?”
“No,” said Lefty. “He's shot up, too, and he's gonna be exhausted from all the running around and shooting we did. We did a lot of running.”
“When do you wanna do this thing?” asked Brooks.
“Bright and early in the morning,” said Lefty. “They won't expect it.”
It was just after eleven when the phone rang, waking Lefty. He reached out and grabbed it from its cradle. He put it to his ear, still half asleep. “Hello?” he managed.
A voice on the other end said, “Is this the nigger?”
Now Lefty was fully awake. He sat up, holding the phone to his ear. He looked over at Layla, lying there asleep.
“Who the fuck is this?”
“Maybe you've heard of me,” said the voice. “My name is Bruno De Lorenzo.”
Ten
Up Jumps The Devil
Bruno De Lorenzo was in Mikey Cantore's basement, lording over him. Mikey was the son of a feared mob captain, but Bruno wasn't afraid. He didn't give a shit if Mikey was the son of Zeus. Mikey could have been the son of Genghis Fucking Khan and it wouldn't have saved him from the things Bruno was about do. Bruno looked down at Mikey, sitting there tied to a wooden chair with tears streaming down his face.
“Remember when I told you there would be a time and place to talk about what happened today?” asked Bruno.
Mikey nodded.
“Now is that time.”
Mikey stared silently, unsure what to say or do. Bruno waited a moment before becoming enraged and kicking him in the chest. Mikey's chair tipped back and over. He was now lying there on the floor, crying and looking helpless and pathetic, like a whale stuck on the shore.
Bruno stood over him, looking down at the sorry fuck.
“I said talk, goddammit!” he screamed.
Mikey looked up, fear visible in his eyes.
“I was at the house with the old people and the little girl,” said Mikey.
“Go on…”
“Well,” Mikey said weakly, “the black guy showed up—”
“The nigger,” corrected Bruno.
“Right, the nigger. He showed up.”
“Then what happened?”
“He…he…”
“Yes?” asked Bruno.
“He started shooting everybody.”
Bruno's eyes narrowed, a sadistic look on his face. “Except you.”
Mikey said nothing.
“Why do you think that is?” asked Bruno. “How did you happen to survive when no one else did?”
“I went out the backdoor before he saw me.”
Bruno walked around the toppled chair, pushing his foot down hard against Mikey's chest. “You ran away like a little bitch,” said Bruno. “Isn't that the truth? You made like Jesse Owens and ran the fuck outta there.”
“I escaped,” said Mikey.
Bruno applied more pressure. “Say it.”
Mikey cried out as Bruno pressed his foot into his chest. When Bruno eased up, Mikey relented and said, “I ran away.”
“Like a little bitch,” said Bruno.
“Like a little bitch,” repeated Mikey.
“So they all got away, the old people and the niggers.”
“I don't know. I assume so.”
“You don't know because you ran away like a fucking coward.”
Bruno looked across the room at Dom and Pino, who were leaning silently against the brick wall. “Come over here and get this fucker back upright.”
The two goons moved forward, flanking Mikey. They leaned down, each of them grabbing an arm, and pulled him up. As they did, Bruno stepped back to make room, accidentally stepping on the foot of Mikey's cocker spaniel. Bruno looked down at the dog. “You got a dog, huh? What's the little fuckstick's name?”
Mikey blinked. “My dog?”
“No, Ike Turner's dog, you fuckin' moron,” said Bruno. “What do you think I mean?”
“Her name is Hillary.”
Bruno stared at him dumbfounded. “Like Hillary Clinton?”
“Right,” said Mikey. “I named him after her.”
“I fucking hate that bitch.”
Mikey's expression changed. “Please don't hurt my dog.”
“You think I'd do that?” asked Bruno. He stared into Mikey's eyes. He reached back and slapped him hard across
the face. “I'm not mad at your dog, even if she has the stupid fucking name of a cunt. You made the mistake, Mikey, you pay the price. Not her. It's not her fault she's got a dumb motherfucker for an owner.”
“Thank you for not hurting her,” said Mikey.
“Don't thank me yet,” said Bruno. “You and me, we got more business between us.” He looked at Pino. “Did you bring in the stuff from the car?”
Pino said nothing. Instead he started rifling through his pockets. He pulled his hand out, producing a large pocket knife. He handed it to Dom. Pino then went back to searching through his pockets, this time producing a pair of silver pliers. He handed them to Bruno.
Bruno smiled big. “This makes me happy, like the Fourth of Goddamn July, you know that, Mikey?”
Mikey's eyes were big now and he was trembling. “No, Bruno,” he said. “Please don't kill me. Please. Please don't. I'll—”
“Hold still,” interrupted Bruno. He nodded to Pino, who grabbed Mikey's head, locking it like he was putting him in a sleeper hold. Bruno leaned in towards Mikey's face. Mikey could smell garlic on his breath.
“Open your mouth,” said Bruno.
Mikey clamped his lips shut, refusing to open them.
Bruno became angry. “You want me to kill your dog, real slow-like? Cause I'll do it. Open your goddamn mouth now or Hillary dies a long, excruciating, painful-as-fuck death like nothing you can imagine. Trust me, it'll be one for the ages.”
Mikey nervously opened his mouth. Bruno didn't skip a beat. He immediately shoved the open pliers into Mikey's mouth, locking them around his tongue. Mikey made a loud, terrified noise, but it was to no avail. Mikey was fucked ten ways to Tuesday and he knew it. Bruno stretched Mikey's tongue out of his mouth as far as it would reach. He looked at Dom, who understood. Dom opened the pocket knife and put its blade against Bruno's tongue. He started to saw through the meaty tongue, but the blade was so sharp that the tongue came loose in Dom's hand in about twenty seconds.
Mikey was thrashing around now, trying to scream, but could only manage a prolonged guttural sound. Still, even without a tongue to scream, the awful moan did the job conveying his pain.
Bruno sat the pliers down on Mikey's lap. As Mikey continued to moan that loud awful moan, Bruno squatted down beside Hillary. He started stroking the dog's head. “There, there,” he said assuringly. “That's a good dog.” Hillary was enjoying the petting, moving her head around to meet Bruno's hand as it ran over her.
Bruno looked up at Dom. “Hand it over.”
Dom reached across in front of Mikey, still moaning, and handed the bloody, saliva-covered tongue to his boss. Bruno took the tongue and held it in front of the cocker spaniel's nose. “Good girl,” he said. “That's a good girl. Who wants to eat daddy's tongue?” Hillary sniffed at it for a matter of moments. Finally, after a minute or so, she opened her mouth and leaned in, snapping up Mikey's tongue. She lowered herself back down close to the ground and started chewing the bloody meat. As she did, Bruno laughed. He turned to Mikey, grinning big. “Cat got your tongue, Mikey? Aww, no, it's your fuckin' dog. Would ya look at that? She's eatin' your fuckin' tongue like it's Alpo!”
Mikey was rocking a little in his ropes, moaning a low moan like an angry cat about to battle. Bruno looked at Dom. “Do me a favor,” he said. “Cut Mikey here's arms loose.” Dom looked at Bruno questioningly. “Nah,” said Bruno, “cut him loose.” Dom shrugged, and then leaned in, sawing at the ropes. Sharp or no, it took the blade significantly longer to cut through the ropes than it had taken to cut through Mikey's tongue. After a couple of minutes, the ropes were cut.
“Get him on his feet,” said Bruno.
Dom and Pino flanked Mikey again, lifting him out of the chair.
Bruno walked to the stairs. “Bring the little faggot this way. We're gonna take him upstairs.”
Bruno led the way, with the Dom, Pino, and Mikey following. Mikey was swaying, still moaning, and Dom and Pino were propping him up. When Bruno was almost to the top of the stairs, he turned back to look at Mikey. “Bet you never thought you'd see upstairs again,” he said, grinning sadistically. “You never know, maybe I'll let you go.” He laughed at his own joke.
Once they were all upstairs, Bruno led them into the kitchen.
“You got a nice kitchen here,” said Bruno. “Real nice place. You got the whole kitchen island, all these nice appliances.”
Mikey was going into shock from the pain. He moaned continually.
“Bring him over here,” said Bruno, motioning to the sink.
The two goons pushed Mikey towards it. He was facing the sink. They pushed him all the way up against it. “Grab his dick-beater,” said Bruno.
Dom grabbed Mikey's hand and held it up.
“You remember that night you had us all over to watch the Superbowl?” asked Bruno. “You remember that? The fucking Patriots won again, but what can you do? They always win, right?”
Mikey stared at him, whimpering.
“Two things happened that night,” said Bruno. “You know what they were?”
Mikey said nothing.
“The first thing was I fucked your wife and she gave me head in your bathroom. Did you know that? Think back, Mikey. Did you kiss her that night?”
Mikey said nothing.
“The second wasn't really a thing that happened so much as it was something I noticed,” said Bruno. “I noticed that you had this fancy garbage disposal. I remember it because I was thinking I really need to get one. I didn't even know they still made those. We had one when I was a kid, but…”
Mikey knew what was coming. He tried to get free, but the goons were holding him down. Bruno was holding his hand. Mikey made a long moaning sound just before Bruno crammed his hand down into the garbage disposal. Bruno used his other hand to switch it on, and the garbage disposal came whirring to life, making a clunking noise as it cut through Mikey's flesh and bone. After a few seconds of going slow and making that clunking sound, it regained its regular speed. Mikey tried to scream, moaning louder than ever.
Bruno leaned in close, staring into his eyes. “You think we're done, cocksucker? Oh, no, we ain't done until I say so.” Bruno looked at Dom. “Did you bring the other thing?”
Dom walked around Mikey, heading for the backdoor. As he did, Pino grabbed him tightly to compensate for Dom's absence. Bruno looked at Pino. “Let's do the other hand now. Fuckin' guy needs a matched set. What good's one hand anyway?”
Bruno grabbed Mikey's surviving hand and went through the same steps, chopping it off in the garbage disposal. Mikey was gyrating now like a crazy person. Pino was holding onto him, but only loosely. Bruno looked into the garbage disposal. “Guess what?” he said. “This garbage disposal is dirty. You really should clean it. It's filled with hands!”
Pino chuckled. Now Dom returned, carrying a green plastic gas can. Bruno held Mikey's arm stumps out over the sink. He looked at Dom, who was unscrewing the lid. “Pour the gas all over his wounds,” Bruno said. He looked at Mikey. “Don't worry, pal, this won't hurt a bit. It's like medicine. It'll make it all better.”
Dom poured the gasoline, completely dousing Mikey's wounds. Mikey let out a loud moan as Bruno laughed maniacally.
As Dom and Pino finished the job, the buzzing sound of a chainsaw loud inside the house, Bruno sat in the dark on the back steps, smoking a cigar. When the chainsaw finally quieted, he reached into his pocket and removed his cell phone. He pushed a button, calling the number he'd programmed earlier. The phone rang twice before a man answered. “Hello?”
“Is this the nigger?” asked Bruno.
Lefty was sitting up in his bed in the dark, looking over at the sleeping Layla as he spoke.
“What do you want?”
Bruno chuckled. “You know what I want. I want your ass, and not in a faggy kinda way, but in an icepick through your eyes kinda way.”
“Fuck you,” spat Lefty.
“Can I ask you a question, nigger?”
Lefty sa
id nothing. After a brief silence, Bruno spoke again. “Have you heard about what I did to Joe Abelli and his bratty cunt of a daughter? I'll bet you have. Everyone knows that story. I'm sort of proud of that one, honestly. It'll be my legacy. I could work hard at this shit for the rest of my life and I'll never top that.”
“It doesn't matter,” said Lefty. “You won't be living long.”
Bruno laughed. “Think about what I did to that little girl, nigger. Now imagine what I can do to your kid. You know what they say, nigger kids get twice.”
“Who says that?”
Bruno laughed. “I do.”
Lefty stared at the sleeping Layla.
“If you touch her, I'll—”
“Kill me?” asked Bruno. “How droll. What should I do, nigger? You tell me. Should I try something new and try and outdo that whole Abelli thing, or should I dip into my catalog and play a little something from my greatest hits? You know, I almost let my guy Pino have sex with Abelli's kid. Pretty gross, huh? I wouldn't have done that. It was against everything I believe in. But you know what? For you I'll make an exception. I'll let all the guys in my crew have their way with your little girl. What do you think about that? And you know, just for you, I might even have to get in on that myself.”
Lefty started to tell Bruno about the various ways he would torture and murder him, but Bruno hung up.
Eleven
Shit Happens
It was around six in the morning when Lefty, Brooks, Dixie, and Layla walked across the street to McDonald's. They discussed the job while they ate. Despite having been awake most of the night, Lefty didn't mention Bruno's call, feeling that mentioning it somehow sullied Layla. As they sat and talked, Lefty said, “Dixie, I would like you to stay at the motel and watch Layla.”
He knew at once he'd said the wrong thing. Dixie immediately became pissed. “What?” she asked. “And leave all the killing to the big strong men? Why? Because I'm just a poor little weak woman? Because all I'm capable of doing is cooking and cleaning and watching kids?”
Brooks chimed in. “We all know that's bullshit, woman. You couldn't cook or clean to save your life.”