Rod

by Nella Tyler

  “I am now,” he starts. “Now that you have zapped every little piece of energy out of me.”

  I give him a sweet smile. I look down to the floor and pick up his boxers and his jeans and throw them next to him on the bed.

  “I’ll undress you, but I won’t dress you,” I joke.

  “Fair enough,” he says as he pulls his boxers up and covers himself entirely. He repeats the motion with his jeans and stands up to zip them and button them.

  He reaches down for his socks and pulls them up over his feet and does the same with his boots.

  “Where do you want to go?” he asks me.

  “I thought we could go to Sam’s down the street and grab a bite to eat.”

  “Sounds good. Why don’t you grab your helmet and ride with me?” he suggests.

  “Alright, I can do that,” I tell him.

  We walk out of the place, passing Justin and his loud newscast on the way. I walk over to my bike and grab my matching pink helmet and secure it on my head. Rodney hops on his bike and steadies it so I can throw my leg over it and hop on the back.

  I hold him tightly as we take off, leaving a whirlwind of dust and dirt in our wake.

  A few short minutes pass and we find ourselves in front of Sam’s Restaurant. The whole place is bright and bustling. From the outside, the waitresses look as if they are running around like chickens with their heads cut off.

  “This place is packed,” Rodney tells me.

  I shrug it off. “You wanna go somewhere else?” I ask.

  “Nah, this is cool. When you mentioned the place, I got a hankerin’ for a burger and fries.”

  “Good, ‘cause I didn’t want to leave either. This place is the best.”

  He steadies the bike with his feet so I can hop off and then he follows suit. We both leave our helmets on the bike and walk to the front door of the restaurant hand-in-hand.

  When we get to the front door, he rushes himself to hold it before I can get there. Once inside, a younger woman with curly black hair greets us.

  “How many? Two?” she asks after looking up from a list she has on a podium.

  “Two, yes,” Rodney tells her.

  “It’s going to be about five or so minutes before we can get you a table,” she says loudly over the music playing.

  “No problem, we’ll be right over here,” he tells her as he motions to a bench in the corner.

  We sit down on the bench and await our table. He reaches his hand to mine and covers it. I lean into him as we wait patiently for a table to open up.

  “In all honesty, I would probably wait a whole hour for a burger from this place,” he says half-jokingly.

  “I know that’s right,” I tell him with a cheesy grin on my face. “The food here is beyond delicious.”

  “You have good taste,” he tells me.

  “Are you saying that because I’m dating you?”

  A delectable smile creeps across his face, but he gives me a blank look once I realize his meaning.

  “Funny,” I tell him.

  Five minutes pass and the young woman looks over at us and says, “Your table is ready.”

  We both arise from the bench and settle into the wooden booth. It’s hard and the restaurant is hopping with the excitement of voices, music and people moving around.

  “So, we go to Lester’s in the morning?” he asks, breaking the silence at the table.

  “Yeah, that sounds good. When we get done here, we’ll go back to your place so I can get my bike and then I’ll head home. In the morning, I’ll come back over so we can leave from there.”

  “Sounds like a plan,” he says.

  “Do you have Lester’s address?” I ask. “It’s for my father. He’ll come swooping in like the cavalry if he doesn’t hear from me within a certain amount of time.”

  “Yeah, here, let me write it down for you.”

  He takes a pen from his pocket and a napkin from the table. He scribbles down some numbers and passes it my way. A cursory glance at the napkin tells me that it’s the same place I’d already visited.

  “Alright, I’ll give this to him before I meet back up with you.”

  “Good, good,” he says holding my hands in his from across the table. “Your dad’s a good dude.”

  “He just doesn’t want anything else to happen,” I tell him.

  “I get that. You and Sasha are precious to him and I admire that. I understand it wholeheartedly,” he says.

  I smile as we order our food.

  “I told my father to wait on pushing Ken and Boris for any information. He wanted to call a meeting about their shenanigans, but I told him to hold off. If they catch wind of what we’re up to, they’ll move my sister from wherever they’ve got her.”

  “Makes sense.”

  Chapter Eleven

  Rodney Vinton

  My alarm clock alerts me that it is seven o’clock in the morning. I slam my hand down on it to shut it up.

  I sit up and immediately wonder whether or not Trish is already awake. I think back to last night and chide myself for not asking her to spend the night. I turn my cell phone on and check to see if there are any missed calls or text messages. None. I roll back over in bed and pull the blankets over myself and fade back off into dream land.

  The next thing I know it, my phone is ringing non-stop. A quick glance tells me that it’s Trish calling me. I look at the time and feel a bit of shock at the hour. It’s ten o’clock in the morning.

  “Hello?” I say groggily.

  “Hey, thought we were going to see Lester Samson this morning,” Trish says.

  Through a yawn I say, “We are. Let me get showered and dressed. I’ll call you when I’m ready to roll.”

  “Alright. Want me to pick you up a bagel or something?” she asks sweetly.

  “Nah, I’ll grab something here before I head out.”

  “Okie dokie. I’ll see you soon.”

  “Sounds good,” I tell her as I tempt myself into nearly going back to bed.

  We hang up the call and I spring into action. I sift through my dresser drawers and find a clean pair of jeans, a reasonably dressy shirt and some boxers. I make my way to the shower and turn the hot water on. Once steam emanates from the shower, I slip out of my boxers and into the rain locker.

  Letting the water stream onto my body, I think back to last night and how Trish gave me head. The thought of her going down on me immediately sends blood rushing to my dick and I’m hard all over again.

  I look downward and say quietly, “I don’t have time for this. She’s waiting.”

  I lather up with a bar of soap and rinse myself off all the while thinking thoughts of my grandmother in hopes that it will tame the savage beast. I grow limp as I hop out of the shower and onto the bath mat. I grab a towel, quickly run it over my hair and then dry off.

  Once I dress myself, I throw my socks and shoes on and grab a knife. I stuff it into the front pocket of my jeans and head outside. I see a pink blur heading this way and immediately recognize my girl on her cute motorcycle.

  With a roar, she pulls up next to my bike and hops off.

  “Hey there, you,” she says with her cute bouncy hair.

  “You did something different with your hair,” I tell her.

  “You noticed,” she says as her face lights up.

  “Of course,” I say.

  “I wanted to do something different with it since I already met this guy. I don’t want him recognizing me when we get there.”

  “Makes sense,” I tell her.

  “Are we taking your bike or both of ours?” she asks.

  “Even though I love the way your boobs feel against my back, I thought we could take both bikes.”

  “Sounds good,” she says with a grin.

  “Before we go, did you text your dad the address to this place?” I question her.

  “Yeah, I sure did,” she says.

  “Alright, let’s go. You can follow me, I know the area well.”

/>   “You got it,” she says. She hops back onto her bike and I peel out. From a glance in my side mirror, I can see her pink bike following closely behind me.

  Twenty minutes pass and we’re in Hayleysville right by Lester’s place. It’s a run-down shanty of a home that looks like it has seen better days. I remember the place from a long time ago when it was still in its prime.

  I park my motorcycle in front and Trish parks hers next to it. We hop off of our bikes and walk over to the door.

  “I’ll do the talking if that’s alright with you,” I plead.

  “Sure, since you already know this guy.”

  I knock on the door and hear a bit of a ruckus behind it. An older man emerges from the door and grins.

  “Hey, Lester,” I say. “Not sure if you remember me, but I’m Seth Vinton’s son. This is my friend Trish.”

  He looks her over and smiles widely. He’s old and frail and looks like he wouldn’t hurt a fly. Trish leans into my ear and says, “I feel kind of stupid for suggesting this now.”

  I whisper back, “It’s okay, honey. You’re the boss. We can still talk to him.”

  “Alright, if you’re sure,” she says.

  “Come on in, you two,” Lester tells us as he moves from the doorway and to the living room.

  “Lester, we just had a few questions for you. It won’t take up too much of your time,” I say.

  On the off-chance that we’re wrong, I keep my wits about me as I scan the whole place for anything that appears off.

  The house is a complete wreck with old newspapers gathering dust and it smells of beer and rotten food. I can sense that Trish is uncomfortable and would probably rather be home. I gather that I should make it quick with the questions before she passes out from the gross smell emanating from the house.

  “We’re looking into the disappearance of a twelve-year-old girl named Sasha Fitzgerald,” I say matter-of-factly.

  “I can’t say that I know who that is,” Lester says.

  He turns to Trish and says, “You look familiar to me young lady, but I just can’t put my finger on it.”

  She squirms a little and I can tell she’s wondering if the different hairstyle and makeup are giving her away.

  “So you haven’t seen this little girl?” I ask as I show him a picture that I have on my cell phone of Sasha.

  “Want something to drink?” Lester asks, disappearing into the kitchen.

  Trish and I look at each other completely baffled.

  “He just left the room, this is all so weird,” she whispers to me.

  I agree, but don’t want to be rude.

  “It is weird, but we don’t have to be here long, just a few more minutes,” I say.

  Lester appears in the doorway and says, “I asked if either of you want something to drink?”

  He looks annoyed.

  “No, we’re good,” I tell him.

  Trish stands up as if she wants to leave, but turns to me to egg me on.

  “So, you don’t know anything about Sasha Fitzgerald comin’ up missing?” I press him.

  Angrily, he turns to us and says, “Coming here with her was a big mistake.”

  Not deciphering his meaning, I ask, “What do you mean?”

  “Bringing her here like that,” he says visibly upset and mean.

  “Huh?” I ask for clarity.

  “You fucking nosy kids, you just can’t leave well enough alone,” he snipes at us.

  Trish is already close to the doorway to leave and I stand. I don’t know what he is talking about, but it’s making no sense. Lester picks up his cane and points it at me threateningly and says, “Your father would be so pissed off if he knew you were here.”

  “And why is that?” I ask.

  “Digging up dirt,” he reminds us.

  He turns to Trish and says, “And I know who you are. You’re that girl from the bar the other night, fucking bitch.”

  I put myself between Lester and Trish as he takes a swing at us with his cane.

  Chapter Twelve

  Rodney Vinton

  Lester misses us with his cane and I look around for our escape route. As I look to the door, I see Trish coming closer. She kicks his kneecaps and follows it up with a right hook to the old man’s nose. Impressed, I feel proud in this moment.

  Lester leans toward a book case to stabilize himself as blood starts to rush from his nose. He staggers and then falls forward to his knees.

  “You’ve just declared war, bitch!” he shouts through wiping the blood away from his nose.

  “War was already declared when you messed with my family,” she tells him.

  He continues to wipe the blood away as he’s momentarily disabled. Trish walks over to him as he tries to get himself upright and kicks his kneecap, making him fall back to the floor.

  She walks over to his phone cord and yanks it from the wall. She casts it to the side and I see her for the woman that she is; a beautiful force to be reckoned with.

  I walk to Lester’s side as he lays there in his own defeat and search his pockets for a cell phone. I briefly consider smashing it, but I don’t because we could use it to our advantage. I grasp his phone in my hands and navigate to the settings. Once there, I thumb my way to set a lock code on his phone. I set the number to 8540 and cast it to the side of his still body.

  Lester’s eyes follow me, but he’s still incapacitated.

  “We’re not through with you,” I tell him as we walk outside the door and slam it shut behind us.

  “What did you do to his phone?” she asks as she looks toward his bike.

  “I set a lock code on it so he can’t call any of his friends to come and help him,” I tell her.

  “I’d have just smashed it to bits,” she says.

  “Yeah, but that takes too much effort and we’ve wasted plenty on that loser.”

  “Makes sense,” she tells me in response.

  “He can still get away on his bike,” I say, looking in the same direction as she.

  “Want me to take off some of the parts and leave them next to it?”

  She looks devious, rubbing her hands together as her plan unfolds. I watch as she kneels down in front of Lester’s motorcycle and systematically begins removing parts. She sets them next to the bike and looks up at me with a smile.

  She scatters the parts, but ensures that they are completely intact and unharmed. She stands and walks over to me with a look that’s asking for approval.

  “Fantastic job,” I tell her.

  She lights up.

  “Alright, back down to business,” she says.

  “If Lester had any involvement in your sister’s kidnapping, then from what I can tell, they had to have moved her, ‘cause she’s not here.”

  “Yeah, I was thinking the same thing, too,” she tells me.

  “So, we have to figure out what happened, but this is a good lead. You know what, I’m going back in for a minute to search the place just to be sure.”

  “Okay, I’ll stand guard out here,” she says.

  She eyes the area, scanning it for any signs of life.

  I swing the door to Lester’s place back open and walk inside like I own it. I see him sitting up against the wall clutching a bloody handkerchief.

  “Did you come back for more?” he asks.

  “No, I just want to make sure that you’re not hiding Sasha Fitzgerald in this rotten hole of a house,” I tell him.

  He looks down so his face doesn’t reveal anything to me. I walk through the living room and to the kitchen, looking for places that a twelve-year-old could be hidden.

  I notice a locked door on the side of the kitchen and realize that this place might have a basement. It’s pad-locked and a hard look around the kitchen tells me that the key to the lock is nowhere in sight. I walk back over to Lester and nudge him with my foot.

  “What do you want?” he snipes with a dirty look on his face.

  “The key to the basement, old man, where is it?” I push.<
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  “Fuck you,” he says with a snarl.

  “Don’t make me ask again,” I threaten with another nudge of my foot. “I’ll make what she did to you look like a church picnic.”

  “Here,” he says after digging in his pocket. He throws the keys to the floor away from him.

  I walk over, scoop them up and head back toward the kitchen. I look back to see him messing with his phone. He is desperately trying to figure out the code, but by the look on his face, I can tell that he’s having no luck.

  I try each key on the ring in the padlock until I find the gold one that fits in perfectly. I turn the key and unlock the lock. I remove it from the hasp it’s attached to and open the door to reveal cobweb-covered stairs leading downward.

  I whip my phone out and call Trish.

  “This place has a basement, I’m going down to check it out,” I tell her.

  “Where’s Lester?” she asks.

  “He’s up against the wall in the other room where we left him. He doesn’t look like he can really move just yet, but he’s trying to figure out the code to his phone.”

  “I’ll come in and watch him so he doesn’t do anything stupid,” she says.

  “Good idea,” I say.

  We disconnect the call and I wait to hear the outside door open. When I know she’s inside the house, I descend the stairs quietly, unsure of exactly what to expect.

  I scan the area as I walk down the small wooden spiraled stairs. It’s funky and dark, so I look for a light switch. When I find one, I flick the switch to find myself in a large area that is basically empty.

  I turn around in my spot to take in my surroundings. The walls are concrete and covering the floor is garbage and a trash bag full of aluminum cans.

  In the corner, I find what appears to be a large, white icebox. I hear walking above my head and am suddenly thankful that Trish is upstairs if the worst comes to pass. I walk over to it and size it up. It’s big enough to hold a person’s body, so I quickly shove it open.

  The inside of the icebox is foul with the odor of rotten meat. I look around to find that it’s not plugged in. I take a deep sigh of relief and I close the lid. Once I clear the rest of the room, I head back up the stairs.

  “There’s nothing down there,” I yell to Trish. I draw closer to her and see her standing close to Lester, ready to pounce if he tries to make a move.