“Before I delete Barbara’s address from your Palm Pilot, though, I want to give her a present.” Dora brought her right hand out of her coat pocket and Allen only caught a glimpse of what she held in her hand as she quickly brought it up and swung her fist toward his face. The object she was holding hit him squarely in the forehead, knocking him back against the kitchen cabinets, and he slipped on the linoleum floor. He gasped, trying to scramble to his feet, his panic rising as he realized what she was doing. She’s going to kill me! The room tilted and he tried to scamper away from her but she was on him in a flash, straddling him, bringing her right hand up over her head again. Just before she swung down with all her force he saw she was holding a small rock, probably one she had scooped up from the little garden bordering the walkway that led to the front door. This time the blow was harder and more precise. Blackness crashed into his consciousness, sending him into oblivion.
THE FIRST THING he was aware of was pain.
Extreme pain.
It slammed him awake and he automatically lifted his upper body off the floor but fell back as a sledgehammer of agony jabbed through his crotch and abdomen. He screamed, eyes closed, waves of pain washing over him as blackness threatened to drown him.
When he was able to muster his strength, he opened his eyes and glanced down at himself.
He hadn’t noticed he was bleeding until he caught his first glimpse of the gore drenching his belly and thighs. For a minute he stared in shocked disbelief; his pants and underwear were pushed down to his ankles and his legs were covered with blood, which was pushed on the floor. He could feel it seeping beneath the skin of his ass and back. It drenched his crotch and his lower belly and he immediately thought, oh Christ please tell me she didn’t, please tell me she didn’t do what I think she did!
He focused on the area of his crotch as the pain ebbed back into his consciousness, ripples ebbing and flowing the way waves crash on the shore of a beach, and when he saw what lay below his paunchy belly, he screamed.
The root of his penis was still bleeding. He could see the blood flowing, pouring over his crotch onto the floor. What lay on his groin was a mass of gore that sang with extreme pain. The scream ringing in his ears tore out of his throat and he didn’t even hear Dora’s footsteps as she stepped into the kitchen.
Dora smiled as she emerged into his line of vision. Her blouse was spotted with blood and her hands were drenched in it. She held a gift-wrapped package in her hands, topped off with a red bow. “You almost came to as I was jerking you off,” she said. “I had to in order to get your cock nice and hard. What is that word you guys use?” She pursed her lips as if contemplating something. “Ah, that’s it. You’ve been Bobbitized! You know, Lorena Bobbit? Remember her? She made national news when she cut off her husbands cock. She did the same thing, jerked him off till it was nice and hard and then whack!” She made a chopping motion with her right hand. “Chopped that baby right off. That prick of a husband of hers got more fame than he deserved. He even made a porno movie. I don’t think that’ll be happening with you, my dear.” She held the gift-wrapped package up. “I’ll be dropping off your farewell gift to your ex-girlfriend. I’m sure she’ll enjoy it. Besides, she needs something to remember you by, don’t you think?”
“Please,” Allen croaked, his throat raw and sore from screaming. “Call 911. I need an ambulance...please...”
“Oh, I just thought of something.” Dora put a hand to her mouth, feigning some revelation. “Barbara’s husband will no doubt find out she was having an affair, just like I found out. Well...” She grinned. “It’s not fair she gets away with her infidelity, don’t you think? I mean if you got caught, why should she go uncaught? Her husband deserves to know, don’t you think? Of course he does! It’s only fair! And he’ll find out when the police do their investigation. I mean, they’ll ask her where her gift came from and of course they’ll know about you by then and put two and two together. They’ll ask questions and Barbara’s husband will find out that his dear wifey was fucking her boss. He’ll no doubt feel the same sense of betrayal I feel. Don’t you think he deserves to know?”
“Please...” Allen said. “Call 911, I’m bleeding to death!”
Dora’s smile turned into a scowl. “Phone’s over there. Do it yourself, you fucking cheating asshole.”
Then, bearing Allen’s farewell gift in her hands, Dora Steele left the house to make her delivery as Allen screamed in pain and fought to stay conscious.
SIX
ELIZABETH WEAVER WAS at her mother’s house picking up Eric when Laura told her about Allen Steele.
“Oh my God!” Elizabeth said, the news of Allen’s mutilation looming large in her mind. Eric was in the backyard playing with Mary and Lily, and Elizabeth was sitting at the kitchen table leafing through a catalogue while her mother prepared dinner. Her father was in his favorite chair watching a football game. “Aren’t they the family that lives up the street from Ronnie and Diana?”
“Yes, they live four doors down,” Laura said. She was frying hamburgers on a skillet over the stove. “Their kids play with Mary and Lily. Himmler tried to go after Andy, their son.”
“I remember that.” Elizabeth shook her head, trying to make some sense of this latest tragedy.
She had told her mother about the incident with Himmler and Andy Steele and Laura had expressed concern. She didn’t like Himmler either, and talking to Ronnie and Diana about it hadn’t done any good. Diana’s excuse had been, “He was probably just playing and Eric over-exaggerated the incident. Himmler wouldn’t hurt anyone.” Laura had insisted to Diana that she preferred Himmler be kept in the basement whenever Eric was over, per Elizabeth’s wishes, and Diana had huffed and acquiesced. Ronnie had assured Laura that the rottweiler was good with Mary, that he’d never known the dog to be viscous, and mom had finally dropped the issue. Elizabeth hadn’t been happy with that. Her rules on Eric being at her brother’s house changed with Mom backing down on the rottweiler issue—she’d informed her mother in no uncertain terms was she not to leave Eric at Ronnie and Diana’s house anymore, and that if she absolutely had to go to the house while Eric was in her care then she insisted on informing Diana that Himmler be chained up in the basement when her son was at the house.
“So what happened?” Elizabeth asked. “Is she in jail now or what?”
“Police picked her up at the Cocalico Tavern,” Laura said, flipping the burgers. “Apparently she left that...well, that package on the doorstep of her husband’s lover and the woman saw her leaving. She went out and unwrapped it and you can imagine what her reaction was when she saw what was in it. She called the police and when they came she told them to check on Allen Steele. Guess she had no qualms about keeping the affair secret from her husband if another man’s life was at stake. The police went to the Steele residence and by then Allen had passed out from shock. He’s in Lancaster General and they tried to reattach it, but I don’t think they had much luck.”
“My God,” Elizabeth said again.
“You’ve got that right,” Laura said, bustling about the kitchen as she got dinner ready. “There’s a lot going on in that neighborhood, especially with all that trouble with Rick now.”
Elizabeth looked up from her catalog. “What trouble?”
“Oh, Ronnie and Diana are having trouble with Rick,” Laura said. She opened the refrigerator and began taking out condiments for the hamburgers—ketchup and mustard bottles, lettuce and onions. “Apparently Ronnie’s having trouble with Rick; the boy is challenging him, you know, being rebellious. He’s not listening to his mother and he’s being truant in school, staying out at all hours, that sort of thing. And Ronnie’s temper hasn’t been the best lately, what with those double shifts he’s pulling down at the plant.”
“He’s still working double shifts?” Ronnie had been working double shifts for the past three weeks, including weekends.
“He has to if he wants to make that mortgage payment.” Laura said. She st
ood at the stove, checking the progress of the sizzling burgers, and then began transferring them to a plate. “I don’t think Mary’s seen him in three weeks. And it’s proven to be very tiring, especially when you bring Cindy’s visitations into the mix.”
“Oh yes, there is that,” Elizabeth said. God, her brother was such a loser. He goes from one nutcase to this latest prize, which Elizabeth was beginning to dislike the more she heard about her. Granted, Elizabeth hadn’t had a very good feeling about her when she first met the woman, but in the last few months Diana had proven to be rather...well, lazy.
She’s a lazy bitch, she thought. Admit it. She saw a meal ticket in Ronnie and jumped at the chance. She hooked him with whatever bullshit she told him, and he’s so fucking gullible he fell for whatever sob story she told him and now he thinks he’s happy to be in a relationship, any relationship. He should have just stayed divorced for awhile and spent time with Mary and gotten to know himself better as a person before deciding to go jumping back into another relationship. But nooo...that wasn’t how Ronnie Baker did things. He had to be in a relationship. He had to have the perfect nuclear family, or as near to one as he envisioned it. And now look where it was getting him.
She decided to throw out a line to her mother. “So Diana hasn’t gotten a job yet?”
“Hell no! She actually refuses to work.”
“Refuses?”
“Yes, refuses.” The burgers were now on a plate and Elizabeth stood up. Her father was getting to his feet and she knew the conversation would have to be cut short soon. The kids would be coming in for supper and she knew it wouldn’t be good for Mary to hear what Laura was saying. “Diana is the laziest woman I’ve ever met. She won’t get a job and the only thing she does is spend money.”
“She’s damn worthless,” Jerry said. He began to help himself to hamburgers and the baked beans that had been simmering on the stove. He was a big man with a crew cut; he was an ex-marine and he still kept in shape. “Diana doesn’t do a goddamn thing but sit on her ass and play on that computer and smoke cigarettes. And she does that all day. She doesn’t even clean up the house.”
“Enough of that,” Laura said, heading to the sliding glass door that opened up on the back porch. “We’ll talk about this later.” She slid the door open and called out, “Supper’s ready!”
“I better get going,” Elizabeth said, picking up her purse. As much as she wanted to talk more about this latest travesty in her brother’s life, she knew it wasn’t the time or place to do so, not with Mary here. Her heart went out to her niece, who was a sweet kid. Mary had been through so much—a turbulent early childhood courtesy of Cindy’s mood swings, both parents’ heavy drinking, and finally Cindy leaving her brother. Her parents had been the only constant adult figures in the little girl’s life and now she was out of that secure environment, once again thrust into a volatile home. The few times she had been at her brother’s new house she had the faint impression that Diana treated Mary differently than her own kids. Not bad, mind you, just...different. As if she resented the thought that she had to share her father with the girl. Elizabeth had the impression that in Mary’s worldview, living with Diana and her kids was like being Cinderella, living under the thumb of a wicked stepmother.
“I’m getting damn tired of it,” Jerry said, still rattling on. He spread mayonnaise and mustard on potato rolls and extracted a pickle from a jar. “Ronnie’s working double shifts to pay for not only himself and his daughter, but Diana and her kids. He’s paying for everything—food, clothing, shelter, all the bills, everything. And she doesn’t appreciate any of it.”
The clatter of running footsteps thundered up the back steps and the sliding glass door slid open. Mary and Eric ran into the house, followed by Lily, her dark eyes reflecting a sense of anger that seemed to be etched in her facial features as well. That kid always has a damn smirk on her face, Elizabeth thought as she watched the little girl trail after the two older kids. Laura turned into an instant-grandma the moment the kids came in, and Elizabeth caught Eric’s attention, motioning him over. Lily watched as Eric went to his mother and for a moment Elizabeth’s eyes met Lily’s and those eyes were—
So cold.
Elizabeth feigned a nonchalant attitude, putting her hand on Eric’s shoulder. “Why don’t we get going, sport?”
“Okay.” Eric grabbed his windbreaker and, after saying goodbye to her parents, Elizabeth and her son left.
THOSE EYES, so cold.
Elizabeth Weaver sat in front of her computer screen, the text of the latest novel in front of her. She’d written three pages and stopped when her mind began to wander back to the subject of her brother and his new living arrangement with Diana and her kids.
She wondered if Lily or Rick had been abused at some point. It was obvious something happened in their early development. Look at Lily. Kid was five years old and Elizabeth never saw her smile or laugh, even in play. All kids cracked a grin or at least laughed when they were playing. Not Lily. She always had that dark look on her, as if she were angry at everything, those deep brown eyes penetrating in their gaze when she looked at you. And then there was Rick; tall, brooding, a good-looking kid, but there was an air of intensity about him that wasn’t right.
What bothered her most was after three months of Diana and her children living with Ronnie, Elizabeth didn’t know any more about their pasts then she had when she’d first met them.
She and Gregg had talked about that on the way home from her parent’s one night, wondering aloud to each other what Diana’s life had been like before she met Ronnie. They’d been doing that a lot lately—talking about Diana and her kids, wondering how much neglect had gone on in that family.
She doodled on the keyboard, knowing she should continue with the narrative but momentarily lost for now. It bothered her that Ronnie had jumped into this relationship without looking. His marriage to Cindy hadn’t been perfect, but at least it had been mutually stable economically. The roles had been clearly defined, and as much as a fuck up Cindy had become in the years since the divorce, when she was married to Ronnie she had been a good wife; she’d held a steady job, she shared her responsibility in the bills and, when she and Ronnie weren’t partying, was actually a good mother to Mary. Her problem was that she was too immature to handle motherhood and responsibilities, so she’d cracked; she’d had an affair, and then left Ronnie for this new guy. For a while Ronnie hung around, waiting for Cindy to come back, but that didn’t happen. As far as Elizabeth knew, Ronnie only dated one woman during the separation, and that relationship fizzled out shortly before he and Mary moved in with mom. Ronnie didn’t date anybody else for a good year—he hadn’t even filed for divorce from Cindy during that time. He didn’t get around to doing that until he found himself a woman who was almost a carbon copy of Cindy, sans the heavy drinking.
Diana Marshfield.
She didn’t understand her brother. What bothered her most was her parents bailed him out constantly. As much as they complained about the decisions he made, they went out of their way to help him in any way they could. She didn’t understand it. Elizabeth had always tried to live a good life; she paid her bills, she had a solid marriage, she worked and took care of Eric and went out of her way to do whatever she could for him, but Ronnie dropped the ball on things time and time again and her parents were always there to catch the fumble. Got to be there to help the fuck-up in the family, I guess, she thought.
She shook her head. Enough pondering why my brother makes the decisions he makes. They’re his problems, not mine. The only thing I’m worried about is Eric being in the same house with that damn dog and Mary living there with it. Mom knows I don’t want Eric over there, and as much as I love Mary, she’s Ronnie’s daughter. She’s his responsibility. I just hope nothing happens to her.
She took a deep breath, trying to find her muse again. She turned on the radio sitting on a shelf on her desk. Sometimes music helped her find the groove in her writing. She foun
d a soft rock station, Pure Prairie League singing about falling in and out of love with Amy.
She got back into her work, writing smoothly, back into her muse, letting the scene and the characters carry the story forward when Gregg shattered her trance.
“Elizabeth!”
God, not again! She stopped, trying to figure out where she was; it was after ten o’clock and Eric was in bed down the hall. She had come upstairs to write about thirty minutes ago and Gregg had been downstairs in the family room watching TV. She stood up and headed toward the hallway.
Gregg stood at the top of the stairs. “Didn’t you hear me?”
“I heard you,” she said. “What?”
“If you heard me why didn’t you answer me?”
“I did. I’m here and I’m not going to yell at you from upstairs because Eric’s asleep.”
Gregg gave her that look of annoyance again. “Well maybe if you weren’t playing on the damn computer again I wouldn’t have to yell at you from downstairs.” He looked at her the way her father sometimes used to, disapprovingly of her activities, her hobbies, those things she held dear.
“I’m not playing on the computer,” she said before she could stop it.
“Oh? What were you doing up there, then?”
“Gregg...” She lowered her voice, motioning down the hall.
He lowered his voice, but his expression had taken on that look that told her he was going to go on one of his tangents. “You’re on the computer, right? If you’re on the computer, you’re playing on the computer. You’re not—”
“I’m writing!” she hissed, the words spitting out now with venomous anger. She leaned forward, stepping to the top of the staircase. “Don’t give me any of that bullshit because you know goddamn well what I do isn’t playing. I’m writing! Okay? I’m not surfing the Internet or playing computer games or—”
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