Slick as Ides

by Chanse Lowell

  I pause before I open the door to our home, my thoughts exploding in my head. She was supposed to be monitoring Dad while I was there, watching out for him and activity from his guys. Why hadn’t she warned me he was coming to meet me? Shouldn’t we have run? He could’ve had a gun on him—could’ve killed me. How do I know he was telling the truth with all that craziness he told me?

  I storm inside, pulling at the back of my neck with my hands when I stop right as I enter the living room.

  Sitting on the couch next to Ides, who’s crying so hard she’s almost shrieking, is Jason, Lexi, and some other woman I’ve never met before.

  “What the hell’s going on?” In the two seconds it takes Dena to lift her head and crack before my eyes, I’ve gone from raging inside at her for not giving me a warning about my dad, to falling apart as well.

  I race over to her, drop to my knees and hug her, stroking the back of her head. “It’s all going to be okay—whatever’s wrong, it’ll be okay.”

  She hugs me tight, buries her head in my neck on the left side. “No, it’s not okay.”

  She curls away from me and reaches for a manila file on the coffee table. “Look at this.”

  A chill of dread slices through my spine like the newfound silence in the air, and I pick it up, then gape at the first page.

  Each sheaf of paper gets worse. There are so many documents here about her father and his past activities that scream out “Vile, evil man!” I don’t even know what to say or do.

  “Jason, tell him what you told me,” Ides says, throwing him a look of utter despair.

  “I’m sorry, Nick, I promised your dad a long time ago I’d never tell you all this, no matter how much I wanted to. It was the only way.” He drops his head and sighs. “But now he’s released me. He wants you to know.”

  My fingers go numb and my toes follow soon after. “What weren’t you supposed to say?”

  I drop to my ass on the ground and stare at him, afraid to blink or let an errant thought get in the way of what he might have to share with me.

  “You already know I was in prison and knew Gregory,” he begins.

  Dena shifts toward me and wraps me up in a hug from behind. She kisses the side of my face softly as he continues on.

  “Well, at one point, he admitted to me what he’d done before in the past. Years ago, he’d killed his wife by paying some psycho to create a car crash.” He shakes his head and glances at me, then his eyes turn glassy. “It was fucked up, all the details he had. I knew he wasn’t lying because of it. I wrote it all down and tracked down your father, sent him a letter to explain to him what I’d learned. Only that wasn’t all Gregory told me. He had this fixation with your dad and knew he’d been having a relationship with this woman, Libby, for years. Sooo . . . a long time ago, before Gregory landed in prison, he’d decided he would steal her away. He’d already had Stephen’s wife killed and his own, too, directly after, and both almost in the same exact way. Not to mention it was by the same hired psycho. Again, he knew way too much of the finer details for it to be made up.”

  I lean back into Dena, and she hugs me tight once more. My fingers stroke her calves and ankles, touch her anywhere I can for something to ground me to reality. This can’t be real.

  “I’m sorry, but I wrote to your dad and told him all this, too. I guess he decided to keep it to himself. Gregory was already in prison for attacking Libby and some of Rich’s people.” He sighs low and heavy, his shoulders bobbing with the action. “This is why he helped me once I was free. I’d helped him first. All this time, I was trying to protect you from unnecessary pain, and basically your dad was, too. There wasn’t really a good reason to tell either of you all this, but now, he figures you need to know. Dena didn’t put her dad in prison—Stephen did.” He takes a deep breath. “He’s left town. He knows you can track him, but he won’t be back.”

  “And what about Libby? What about Rich, the man that’s ruined her life all because she got too greedy?” I grip Dena’s ankles. She strokes my back and leans in and kisses my ear.

  Her lips linger, and she whispers, “We’ll take that asshole down. We’re the only ones that can.”

  Jason nods even though he couldn’t possibly have heard what she just said.

  “We have a plan,” Jason begins, then signals to the women beside him, both still silent and sitting stoic at his side, “and Lexi here is gonna help us. Stormy’s in, too.”

  Chapter 23

  Ides

  Four weeks later . . .

  I stare at the psychotic conversation on my phone screen. Is he crazy?

  Vapor: Yeah, I’m up for the job. You know I’m always hard.

  Fingers: Yeah, he is. You should see this asshole. He can’t ever keep his hands off her. It’s sick. My girlfriend dropped me for that very reason. She said I was a creep.

  Riot: Can we talk about something else, please?

  Vapor: As usual—jealous.

  Fingers: I get plenty of ass. The women can’t get enough of me, especially when Ides lends me her car. Besides, I’m not the one obsessed with making babies.

  I hack into their conversation and join in. Ides: Vapor, you got this? Are you concentrating on what we’re actually here for?

  Vapor: Bitch, yes, I’ve got this. I shouldn’t have ever agreed.

  I roll my eyes. He bought this outfit off an actual homeless person, but I insisted on washing it several times before wearing it for this. I did make sure to sweat in it while cleaning today so it wouldn’t smell so strongly of bleach.

  Riot: Ides, you OK with him calling you this?

  Ides: Lol. This is tame for my fave asshole.

  Stormy: Should I tell them what you call me in the throws, Riot?

  Riot: No!

  I snort and fight off a loud, obnoxious laugh.

  I glance over at them all scattered around the area.

  Fuck, Vapor looks hot—his hair all a mess, wearing all black. I wanna have sex with him right now.

  Why am I so horny? Focus, Ides . . . He’ll be here soon . . .

  Fingers: God, you should see the woman Rich has. She’s hot. Blonde, tall, all legs and big tits. Exactly my type. I wanted to bang her in my shop yesterday as she eye-fucked me into speechlessness. And you know that never happens to me. I always have something to say.

  Vapor: Tell me you weren’t distracted. You did remove the security system on his car, right?

  Fingers: Yes, you snotty bastard. I got the job done. Quit treating me like a child and get to work making your own.

  Vapor: Talk to my girlfriend. She’s the one being difficult. I’m up for that job every damn day.

  Ides: I’m not squeezing out anyone’s brats until I at least have a ring on my finger.

  Vapor: Damn, woman. That’s all you’re holding out for? Why didn’t you say? I’ll buy you the biggest fucking diamond on the planet. It’ll make your fingers drag on the ground.

  Ides: Not funny. Do you know how many germs are on the ground? Plus, then I’d look like a monkey, and you know how I feel about them. Think about how awful this is. People spit and piss on the ground. It’s disgusting. Animals drag their ass on the ground to itch their crack. And where do you think people get ringworm from? Fuck!

  I break out my hand sanitizer and squirt a little dab into my hands. An antiseptic won’t get rid of this creepy-crawly feeling, though. So disgusting!

  I shudder as I stand in place.

  “Here ya go,” some nice old man says as he exits the grocery store and gives me a buck.

  I pocket it and smile big.

  “Thank you, sir. God bless,” I say and nod at him.

  Ides: *snort* Some old man thought I really was a vagrant. See? I can do this.

  Vapor: Stop changing the subject. Let me knock you up.

  Ides: We have a job to do. Concentrate.

  Vapor: I do have a job to do. Get back over here, and I’ll get the job done now. I already threw out your pills this morning. No more of this hors
e shit. I want a snot-nosed baby.

  Ides: We can discuss this later.

  Riot: Where is Rich anyway? Shouldn’t he be here by now? Or is he busy trying to kill the dads of some other hacker couple?

  Fingers: Anyone with a stupid name like Dick can’t be bothered to keep to a schedule. How he manages to run Hillcourt Corp. is a mystery, between all his killings and shit.

  Ides: Westin, you know that man’s almost as OCD as I am, and he doesn’t go by Dick, or Richard. He prefers Rich. He comes to this gas station every Friday night at 8. He’ll be here soon. We were early.

  Fingers: I hope he has Lisa, the blonde, with him. I can give her a ride home.

  Ides: You’re not fucking our enemy’s mistress. She’s not into mechanics that own a body shop.

  Fingers: Hey, I’m a whole lot more than a tool. I know how to drill shit and clean out her tubes.

  Ides: Vapor, please go hit this Neanderthal over the head for me. And while you’re at it, remind him to shut up tonight so we don’t mess this up.

  Vapor: It’ll cost ya . . .

  Ides: It won’t cost me a baby.

  Vapor: I get to decide, not you, honey.

  I bite back a chuckle. He’s all talk. We’ve discussed this, and he’s just being a big old whiny baby—talking smack with his friends. God, I love this man, even when he’s being an ass.

  He probably already realizes I’m a step ahead of him anyway and prepared for his antics—exactly why he’s being so cocky right now.

  I’ve hurt him, and I need to stroke his ego to make it better.

  Riot: Keep it in your pants, boss.

  Ides: But he thinks better when he’s pantless. ;D

  Riot: Keeping my head turned away from Vapor at all times now. God, TMI, Ides. Way too much!

  While I stifle a roaring laugh, in comes Rich, and he pulls up to the same pump he does every weekend.

  He gets out and my legs shake as I approach him.

  “He killed Dad, he killed Dad,” I chant over and over under my breath.

  Last week I got the call from the hospital—Dad didn’t make it.

  Ever since we found out who caused his death, it’s all I can think about. It’s what drives me to be here right now.

  I cringe when I think about the fact that if Nick’s dad hadn’t left the hospital against the doctor’s medical advice, he would’ve probably died of mysterious causes as well.

  “Excuse me, sir?” I clear my throat.

  He startles and his face pales.

  Shit. Nick was worried he’d recognize me.

  I told him there was no way. Was I wrong?

  “Yes?” Rich’s sickeningly high pitched voice asks.

  I try not to stare at his long greasy gray hair, all pulled back into a ponytail. It does not go well with his very expensive, tailored suit.

  “I’ve been out of work for weeks, and I just had my bicycle stolen. Is there any way you can lend me some change so I can grab something to eat?” I hook my thumb over my shoulder in the direction of the store, trying to keep my fidgeting down.

  I try not to watch Nick coming up from behind the vehicle. He has his phone out like he’s checking messages.

  Yes, baby. Unlock the passenger door with the codes I gave you . . .

  I clear my throat, then cough, just as Rich is about to turn around to get his fuel. “Please? I’m really hungry, and I haven’t eaten at all today.”

  “I can see that—you’re awfully homely and skinny. Here,” Rich says, digging in his pants to retrieve his wallet.

  He pulls out a five.

  A five?

  My left eye twitches. This man has obscene amounts of money.

  “Is there any way you have a little more to give than that? This would barely buy me a loaf of bread and peanut butter. Some jelly might be nice to go with my sandwich,” I say, fluttering my lashes a little.

  Nick makes a face at me like I’m overdoing it. He gives the universal “cut it” sign, by slashing at his throat with his hand.

  “A drink might be nice as well to go with said sandwich,” I add.

  Rich barks a stuttering laugh, then replies, “Oh, I see . . . So you expect me to pay for your alcoholism?”

  “N-no, sir. I don’t drink. It’s a vile habit. If you have a Breathalyzer, you can test me. I swear—I don’t drink.”

  Nick puts a hand on a hip and gives me an even stronger look of disapproval—his lips pursed, his brow creased. Fuck, that’s hot. My thighs tingle just glancing at him.

  “How is it an intelligent, well-spoken lady such as you has been reduced to panhandling?” Rich thumbs through his wallet and pulls out a twenty, handing it to me.

  I smile and respond with a nod. “Thank you, sir, and the only thing I can say is I’ve had a lot of bad luck lately. My father recently died, and it was just after I got him back from being in jail.” I curtsy and fight the urge to flip off Nick.

  I turn and start walking away.

  Nick’s on his way in. He’ll handle the rest.

  I peek back over my shoulder for a second, and when Rich turns to pump gas, the car zips off.

  I whirl back around and stand gaping at Rich, pretending I’m as shocked as he is.

  “You . . . Did you see what just happened? Who took my car?” Rich gasps.

  “No, I was looking the other way—headed inside the store,” I say with wide doe-eyes.

  He points at me and rushes toward me, leaning forward. “You did this! You cost me my favorite car!” he snarls and rips the cash out of my hands.

  “Asshole!” I snap and take off running.

  When I make it to the rendezvous spot a block and a half down, in a quiet neighborhood, Nick’s waiting for me.

  The door’s open, and I slip inside.

  “That was a little too much,” he says, smiling at me.

  “Hey, I got it done. I told you I had this,” I say, brushing my hair back over my shoulder.

  He leans over and devours my lips with a hungry kiss.

  “Home,” I say, pointing at the road.

  He smirks with a lopsided grin, and I pinch the side of his thigh.

  A sigh leaks out of him.

  “You were really sexy back there,” I say, my fingers drifting through the hair above his ear.

  He drives like he’s got all the time in the world to get Rich’s stolen car back to our newly secured fortress.

  “Yeah?”

  “Yeah.” I grip his hair at the roots. “I really wanted to have sex with you, and you know how much grocery store parking lots freak me out in terms of unsanitary conditions.”

  He smiles, nods and has this elated look in his eyes. “Good. I’m glad to hear that. It’s going to make this much easier.”

  My eyes narrow. “What’re you up to now?”

  He doesn’t answer but wears a smug, devious expression.

  I hug him and slip my right hand into his right jeans pocket. Hmm . . .

  I grab something small and odd in there, remove my hand a few seconds later, then tuck it away in a safe spot when he’s not looking.

  “Are you going to tell me what you’re up to?” I ask again.

  “Nothing you need to worry about,” he finally responds.

  A few minutes later, we’re pulling into the garage and once the door’s closed, he pulls me into the backseat and slips something metallic out from under the seat.

  Click, click.

  “What the hell, Nick? You brought my cuffs?”

  He nods and sucks in his bottom lip, moistening it. When he lets it go with a pop, I’m trying to bite him.

  My hands are bound to the death grip in the backseat above my head.

  Why? What’s he trying to pull?

  “Okay, you have two choices,” he begins.

  “You’re not going to get me pregnant in Rich’s car,” I answer immediately.

  “Stop trying to guess—you suck at it.” He chuckles. “Now, my dirty bitch has two choices like I was saying before I was int
errupted.” He pulls out of his pocket, what I thought was one of our remotes. It’s an electric beard trimmer he uses for his sideburns. “Would you rather squirt all over his upholstery back here or have me shave those dirty, germ-infested pubes for you?” He wiggles his eyebrows.

  “Neither. This is absolutely hideous to even think about!” I say, my voice going up about two octaves, and in this enclosed space, it sounds shaky and weak, though it’s loud.

  “Not a choice. If you decide to give me what you call your piss, then I’ll lick it all off these leather seats afterward. And you’ll be released so you can go inside, grab the black light and come back out to do a better job of cleaning it off. If you choose to be shorn"—he chuckles at his silly word, shorn—“then I’ll come back out here and vacuum them up, but you know it’ll be hard to get them all. I might miss some, and then your DNA will be in here for forensic scientists to find and future car thieves as well.” Once more with the wiggly, flirty brows.

  “This is sick!” I tip my head back and rest it on the car door. For some stupid reason I’m grinning like an imbecile.

  His creativity for lunacy like this is astounding—and God love him, I can’t help but want him more for it.

  He pulls off his shirt and stuffs it behind my back. “For cushioning,” he explains.

  “Yeah, ‘cause you’re all sorts of gentlemanly right now.” I snort, then chuckle, shaking my head.

  “Damn right, I am. Now, which shall it be, my sexy girl?” He wears a lopsided smirk. It makes my stomach flip.

  Bzzzzzzzzz . . .

  He turns on the clippers, and I cringe.

  “Okay, geyser-pussy—put that fucking horrendous thing away!” I tip my chin at the implement of torture.

  “You sure? You’d look awesome with a bald pussy, and I’d reward you other ways if you did this little thing for me. If you choose the slip-and-slide option, I’ve got something else I’ll be doing to you at the end, and you can’t fight me on it.”

  “Jesus—when do you have time to think up shit like this? I thought you said I was a slave driver, planning this heist, making the necessary preparations.”

  His head wobbles from side-to-side and he shrugs. “Just don’t sleep much now that you’re in my bed every night. So, choose, and make it quick.”