"Is it true, Theresa?" I asked, afraid of her answer.
"No. I mean, yes. It was my first night at the club and I didn't know what to do. I was hungry and had nowhere to go. I was just a waitress there. I didn't dance," she pleaded with me to understand her side of the story.
"Shut up," I told her, holding my hand up for silence.
"Please, Tim."
"Shut up."
"So, maybe her little church girl act wasn't so true after all." Dale spat the words out.
"How could you lie to me?" I asked her.
"I didn't lie, Tim." She was crying again.
"Oh yes, she did, Tim. She lied to you because she is nothing but a whore. She is nothing but trash. A fucking slut that gave it up to every Tom, Dick and Harry just to make a quick buck. I only married her so that I would have a place to hide out and somebody to use as an alibi when I needed it." Dale had gotten up from the bed and was walking in a slow circle around me, whispering like a devil perched on my shoulder.
"No, Tim. It isn't true." She was receding back into her state of shock.
"Show her, Tim. Show her exactly what happens to whores that tell lies. Show her what we do to trash." He was taunting me, getting into my head.
He reached across the bed and took a handful of her hair, pulling her onto her feet in front of me.
"No."
"I can tell you, Tim, if you don't do this…" He shook his head in mock disbelief of what he was about to say. "You will not believe the things that I will do to this fucking bitch. Things that you have never even dreamed of. I won't kill her right away, but she will beg me to. I guaran-fucking-tee it."
As he spoke, he used the knife to cut the straps of her nightgown. The thin white garment fell to the floor as he stopped her from holding it up. She stood there in front of me, completely naked. A red glow had spread across her face, only interrupted by the streams of tears flowing from her eyes. Any attempt she made to cover herself was thwarted by Dale.
"Don't try to cover up the goods now, Sweet thing. One good thing you got going for you is that sweet frame of yours. I'm sure Tim wants to get a good look. She ain't half bad at sucking dick, Tim. I'll bet she's had lots of practice."
He planted a soft kiss on her cheek as he reached around and grabbed her breast in his hand. He squeezed tightly as he brought the knife around the front of her body. He sliced the knife across her breast, cutting into the soft flesh with ease. The knife cut through the center of her pink nipple, releasing a flow of blood that looked like a small waterfall. Theresa screamed in agony, but Dale kept squeezing. Her eyes bulged from their sockets, but she was unable to speak. Dale laughed and kept squeezing. He held the knife out to me.
"Your turn?" He asked with his face buried in her sweat-matted hair.
I took hold of the knife, not exactly sure what I was going to do with it.
"Or do you want a little sweetness before you take out the trash?" He ran his now free hand down between her legs, digging his fingers hard into her crotch. Her face twisted again in pain and shame.
I felt like throwing up. My head was rattling with confusion and anger. I felt like crying, but I didn't want to let Dale have that satisfaction.
Theresa raised her head and looked me in the eye. I thought that I would be excited by her agony, but I couldn't help myself. The tears started to flow. I raised the knife and looked up at Dale. His smug smile made me sick to my stomach. I hated him. I hated everything about him. His ridiculous, exaggerated laugh, his scrawny frame, his butchering of the English language. I hated the fact that my father had left me to be with him. I hated the fact that he had been able to get a woman like Theresa, but he had done nothing but torture and hurt her. I hated that he was the father of the pink cheeked little girl that lay sleeping in the next room. I hated that he got the life that I had always dreamed of and he had just pissed it away.
I plunged the knife down, burying it deep in Theresa's chest. Her eyes bulged again, and blood seeped out of her mouth over her lips and teeth and down her chin. All the while, tears flowed from my eyes. I loved her, but I needed to find my father and only Dale could help me.
He threw her mostly lifeless body to the floor as he cackled and danced around.
"Woo-hoo! I knew you could do it, boy."
"Fuck you," I replied, completely numb.
"You sure you don't wanna fuck her first?" He laughed as he kicked her dead body.
He left the room, still laughing. I sat down on the bed and stared at the woman that I had thought might have been...good.
I heard a cry from the other room. A sharp scream that ended abruptly. I stood up as Dale reentered the bedroom. He held a second knife that was covered in blood, and wore a grin on his face. Alicia.
"Get some sleep boy. We got a big day tomorrow." He flopped onto the bed and put his hands behind his head.
I walked out in a daze, unable to believe that that monster had just killed a baby, his baby, as easy as if he was making toast.
I could hear him already snoring loudly in the bedroom with her dead body only inches away.
I didn't get any sleep at all that night.
Chapter 21
In the morning, I was sitting on the front porch outside of the house. I couldn't stay in there a minute longer. The house smelled of nothing but death.
Dale emerged around ten o'clock, stretching and yawning.
"Should have made sure there were some leftovers last night. No one to cook my breakfast this morning," he laughed to himself.
I ignored him, still reeling from the night before.
"Get your shit together, boy. We got to hit the road."
I already had all of my 'shit' packed up and in the van. I had been ready to go the minute I had walked out of Theresa's bedroom.
"Where are we going?"
"I'll tell you on the way."
"Why don't you tell me right now?"
"Simmer down, Son. I said I will tell you on the way."
"I'm not your son."
"Sounds like somebody ate a big bowl of bitchy flakes this morning. Take a couple of Midol and let's get moving."
I tried my best to stow the boiling anger yet again. I imagined running him over repeatedly in my van. That helped a little. It even brought a slight smile to my face.
We set out, locking the door of the house that contained the two dead bodies. I said my silent goodbyes to the two girls, and we drove away.
Dale said nothing except the occasional, 'turn here', or 'take a right'.
"Why did you send that letter? If you knew where my father is, why did you send a letter to my house?"
"I don't know where he is. I know where he might be. Best I can do for you, boy."
I growled to myself and continued driving on in silence.
We traveled for about three hours. Finally, we pulled up to a cheap looking place with a sign out front that said 'Tiki Motel'. It looked like more than one whore had made this her place of business. The peeling brown paint and the weathered totem pole with its overly cartoonish faces situated in the front made the hotel look like a caricature of a Scooby-Doo episode.
Dale jumped out as soon as the van came to a stop. He moved like a man on a mission, heading straight for a room in the back with a '4' on the door. I followed him, wondering how long he had really known exactly where my father was and why he was keeping it a secret.
He approached the door slowly and knocked three times hard, followed by two soft knocks.
"Jesus Christ! You have a secret knock?" I said, getting tired of the cloak and dagger routine.
"Shh," he hissed at me.
A few seconds later, the door opened no more than an inch and an eye appeared in the crack.
"Who is it?" A voice weathered by too many cigarettes and too much hard time whispered from the chasm.
"It's me, Dale. I got somebody here you're gonna want to meet."
"I don't want to meet nobody." The disembodied voice spoke again.
I too
k a step to place myself into the line of sight of the voice behind the door. Without hesitation, the door flung open and standing there in nothing but jeans was my father.
His face looked older than I remembered. He bore the lines of a troubled and deeply tired old man, even though he was only in his late forties. The smile on his face alleviated a few of the wrinkles brought on by his hard life.
"Tim?" He looked to be on the verge of tears as he stepped out of the room, his arms out wide.
He gripped me in a tight hug and I breathed in the vaguely familiar scent of Stetson after-shave mixed with soap and his own musky scent. I felt tears threatening my own eyes as I gave in and returned his embrace.
"My boy," he said as he rocked me back and forth.
After a minute, I pulled back with some effort.
"Dad, I've been looking for you. Why didn't you contact me? Why did you leave?" The words flowed out in an uncontrollable tidal wave of emotion.
I had so many questions and so many things that I wanted to say to him. I needed to take a deep breath and get myself over the shock and joy of seeing my father for the first time in more than four years. Even before that, I had only seen him for hours at a time in the preceding years. But, he had at least been there. My mother never hit me or berated me when he was there. She was just as afraid of him as I was of her.
I kept telling myself that that was all in the past. She was dead and he was here now. We were together, and everything was going to be fine now.
My father came to his senses and stepped back, motioning for us to enter.
"Well, don't just stand out there, for fuck's sake. Come in and have a seat. You want a beer?"
"Yeah, sure." I smiled liked a complete idiot, recalling the fishing trip that we had gone on together, the two of us, sitting on the banks of the lake and drinking beer like two men.
"Well, I sure as fuck want one!" Dale chimed in, obviously feeling left out.
The two of us sat down around the small kitchenette table in the long-term motel as my dad got us each a beer. He took his seat at the table and passed out the bottles. We each twisted off the caps and took long, satisfying swigs. Dale belched as he slammed his half-empty brew onto the table.
"So Tim, tell me what you been up to? How'd you get away from that viper bitch? I figured she'd have her claws in you forever," my father asked.
"I killed her," I said nonchalantly.
"What the fuck?" Dale exclaimed as he tried not to spit beer on the pair of us.
I indicated the small pink scar just under my eye.
"She pushed me too far." I was trying to make them think that I was a badass killing machine, so I left out the part about her falling on the broken glass when I retold the story.
My father looked as if he was overcome with pride. His smile reached from ear to ear.
"About time. I should have killed that bitch years ago and took you with me, Tim. I didn't know that she was hurting you," he paused to compose himself. "If I had known, I swear…" He trailed off, unable to finish.
"Hey Pop, it's all in the past now." I reached out and patted his arm. It felt good to be there with someone that obviously cared for me.
"Speaking of killing bitches, you shoulda been there, Theo. Your boy here offed my stupid ass wife. It was beyond fucking sweet! He took that knife and just plunged it right into her like a hot knife in butter." He laughed and slapped the table as if he was relating some hysterical anecdotal story.
I looked at him with hate burning in my soul. Visions of Dale killing Alicia flashed in my head. I took another drink of my beer to try and cool the fire. I looked over and saw that my dad was watching me with a quizzical look on his face. He put on what looked like a false smile and turned back to Dale.
"That's my boy!" He said, proudly.
We talked throughout the night, the three of us, my dad and I catching up on lost time and trying to get to know each other, and Dale interjecting stories about himself and his escapades. If I did not know better, I would say that Dale was more than a little bit jealous of our building relationship.
I brought out the journal that I had found and placed it on the table. My father looked at it and smiled. He rose from the table, disposing of the multiple beer bottles that we had emptied over the course of the day. He brought fresh drinks, and sat down.
"Who was your favorite?" He asked me, twisting off his cap.
"Delia," I said without hesitation.
"Oh yeah, Delia…with the pretty smile," my father said looking off into the distance, smiling.
"Wasn't she the chubby one?" Dale asked, disrupting the memory. "Theo here always did like the chunky ones."
He laughed heartily and clapped me on the back almost causing me to drop my beer. My dad was obviously perturbed by the interruption. He shook it off and turned back to me, ignoring Dale completely.
"She was my favorite, too."
"Dad, I need your help."
"What is it, Son?"
Just to hear those words come from his mouth made my heart skip a beat. I felt proud and happy, as though I had a real family for the first time.
"I want this," I tapped the journal. "I want to do this, to experience it. I need your help, though."
"You got it."
I was dumbfounded by the speed in which he agreed, but I was excited that it was finally going to happen.
The rest of the night was spent discussing and planning. My dad knew of a secluded spot where we could do the deed. He also knew where the local whore hangouts were. With him, it felt like it was meant to be. Everything clicked. It all came together like a well-oiled machine.
We had planned to head out the following night and get this little blonde thing that my dad had had his eye on. I would lure her in with the promise of payment for a quick blowjob. Dale would knock her out, because that was his favorite part. My dad would drive us to the spot that he had picked out, and we would all take turns with her.
This one was to be my very first 'real' time. The whole ritual was to be played out, and I would finally get the satisfaction that I yearned for. Finally.
After the last beer was emptied, we all decided to get some rest. I gathered everything together for the next day. I was shaking as I put the fresh tube of lipstick and the new pair of silky red panties into the plastic zipper bag. I knew that the kit was still fully intact in the back of the van, but I felt a compulsive need to check it, twice.
"Fuck sake, boy, sit down. Relax. Ain't nothing to it. We're just gonna go and catch us a fresh whore tomorrow," Dale told me after my second trip to the van.
"Leave him alone, Dale." My father still sounded irritated with his former partner.
Dale grumbled at being chastised, but said nothing aloud. He was afraid of my dad. On the other hand, maybe it was that my father was the dominant personality and Dale was aware of his place in the grand scheme. It was so obvious after being with the two men for one evening that my dad called the shots. I was glad of that fact.
I finally was able to sit still long enough to feel the effects of the four beers I had consumed. I fell into a restful sleep, content in my impending, inevitable success with my father at my side.
Chapter 22
I felt fidgety and on edge all day. I wished that there had been some way that I could will the night to come. All I could do was wait.
Dale slept the entire day away. That was perfectly fine with me. Hearing him talk all day about himself, or hearing his ridiculous laughter one more time might have sent me right over the edge. I was still angry about Theresa, but what really pissed me off was Alicia. It was unnecessary and heartless. She could have had a chance to be good. She hadn't been tainted.
I could have raised her up right.
I shook that thought out of my head. What was done could not be undone, and I needed to get over it.
When the sun finally began making its way down the sky, I was on the verge of coming out of my skin. My dad and I had been talking throughout the day, but
he seemed more introverted than before. I thought that it might have been the beer that had loosened him up the night before. Possibly, this was part of his personal preparation for the upcoming event. Whatever it was, I decided that it was best to just go with the flow. Even Dale was quiet after he had managed to haul his ass out of bed at three O'clock.
When he finally said that it was time to go, I felt like a kid in a candy store. I was so excited that I was running around like I was on a sugar high. My dad put a hand on my shoulder and looked me directly in the eye.
"Tim, you need to stay calm. I'm depending on you, son."
I nodded my head, suddenly feeling as though I might cry. He gave me a smile and a nod and then went about his business.
We walked out to the van and the two other men climbed into the back to hide. I situated myself in the front seat and awaited directions to the place where we would find the pretty blonde.
I drove based on the directions I was given, and as soon as I turned onto the boulevard, I saw her.
She stood there leaning against a lamppost, wearing a pair of very short cut off jean shorts, coupled with fishnet stockings and ankle boots. Her shirt was cropped so that it sat just under her full breasts, showing off her midriff. She was a little on the hefty side, but by no means fat. She looked healthy, some would say. In certain light, some might also say that she was beautiful.
What I saw was a used up whore that would suck any dick in front of her for a few dollars. She made me sick.
I drove up to the curb with a smile on my face. I stopped directly in front of her and watched her roll her eyes as she tossed her cigarette into the street. She walked over to the passenger side window and leaned in, her ass high up in the air and a big shit-eating grin on her overly made up face. It was the exact same stance that every hooker assumed when she approached a vehicle in every movie I had ever seen.
"Hey there, handsome. You looking for a date?"
"Why yes, I am," I put on the smoothest voice I could muster.
"What kind of date?" She was trying to be coy, but she only managed to be even more pathetic.
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