The Bad Ones

by Stylo Fantome

  “Jesus, Frannie, why can’t you just -” Jared started to bark out, and while Dulcie was impressed with how angry he sounded, she held up her hand to stop him. Making a scene was not her thing.

  “Please. No worries at all, I’ll have someone come and move you to a clean table. No, no, don’t touch it, Mrs. McKey! That’s why we have cleaners and bussers. I want you to enjoy your evening out. Please, don’t worry about it at all. Greg!”

  Dulcie called over the nearest waiter, gave him instructions to move the family and have the soiled table stripped down. Then she headed back towards the kitchen. As she passed the bar, David paced the length of it with her.

  “‘Bitch’ is right. Want me to dump some soap in her next drink?” he offered. She snorted.

  “Soap might improve her. Got any bleach back there? Maybe mix that in.”

  David laughed, but Dulcie didn’t.

  She wasn’t joking.

  Being a good employee who anticipated everything, of course Dulcie had a spare work uniform. She grabbed it out of her cubby and hurried into the employee bathroom, locking the door behind her.

  She didn’t undress immediately. She turned on the sink, as hot as she could, then she gripped the edge of the porcelain. She tried taking deep, therapeutic breaths. Tried to calm down. She clenched her teeth together and resisted the urge to scream.

  Deep breathing wasn’t working, so she lifted her head, exhaling loudly. The mirror was beginning to fog up, but she could still see her reflection. See the heavy red wine splattered down the left side of her shirt. It was all over her hands, some of it even on her neck. Dripping past her collar bone. So much red. All over her.

  The last time she’d looked at herself, really looked, she’d been staring at a hazy reflection. Looking at a girl covered in red. Standing in one spot and wishing for so many bad things to happen. Only back then, she hadn’t been alone. Back then, she’d known there was someone else who wanted all those bad things, too. It was so lonely now, being the only one who thought that way. Being the only one with blood on her hands.

  I just wanted to feel normal in my darkness. Why did he take that away?

  Of course, there was no one to answer her. So while most girls would’ve cleaned themselves up or broken down in tears or plotted their revenge, Dulcie stared at her reflection. Then she planted her fist in the middle of the mirror, shattering the image.

  12

  Dulcie sat on a bench, staring across the park. There were some little kids playing on a stone walrus, but she wasn’t paying attention to them. She had her dark sunglasses on and she waited for inspiration, her sketchpad sitting in her lap.

  She didn’t have as many opportunities to draw as she’d had in high school, but on Sundays, her one day off a week, she always made it a point to draw something. Life had taken a lot of things away from her, but she wouldn’t let it take her art; that, she could control.

  “Trying to imagine what it would be like to have someone touch you long enough to give you children!?”

  Frannie’s shrill voice carried across the park. Dulcie hadn’t realized the blonde had joined the fray with her little spawn.

  “Your ex-boyfriend did!” she called back, smiling brightly. Frannie’s jaw dropped open.

  “You’re disgusting!”

  Dulcie held up her middle finger.

  It gave her a tickle to see Frannie all riled up. It was the little things in life, after all, which made it worth living. But of course, just as she was starting to feel almost good, something had to ruin it.

  And not in a good way.

  “Hey, baby,” a voice hissed near her ear.

  For one irrational moment, one horrifying, vomit inducing, moment, Dulcie thought it was the man. The hobo who was buried by the train station. The man she’d killed. The same hissing voice, the same sound of depravity. The same feeling welling up inside of her, the one that told her to take control of the here and now, to do whatever the fuck it was she felt like doing in order to control a situation. The feeling that told her to rip something apart.

  But Dulcie also knew she wasn’t completely crazy, so when she lurched off the bench and whipped around, she wasn’t too shocked to see it was her half-brother, Matt. Basically a being who was only two-steps above an animated corpse, anyway.

  “What are you doing here?” she demanded, shoving her glasses onto the top of her head.

  Before she’d moved out of the trailer, he’d reached all time highs of creepiness. It was like he could just smell that she’d started having sex, and he wanted in on the action. Any time she was in her room, she’d block her door. The moment she’d had enough money set aside for her own place, she’d bolted, and she hadn’t left a forwarding address.

  Of course, Fuller wasn’t big. Keeping her location a secret wasn’t possible – even a psychopath like her had friends. All Matt had to do was ask a couple questions and before she knew it, he was lurking around her building. Waiting outside the front door, asking her for money. Asking her for a place to crash. Asking her to blow him in exchange for meth.

  As tempting as his offer was, Dulcie had punched him in the throat, then threatened to tell his parole officer what a creepy little shit Matt was being and have him thrown in jail. It worked for a little while, but after a couple weeks, he started popping up again. She’d be in a bar, having a drink with coworkers, and suddenly he’d be on the stool next to her. In line behind her at the grocery store. Grabbing her ass as she walked down the street.

  Many nights were spent thinking of different ways to kill him. But what would she do with the body? She couldn’t exactly carry him anywhere, and she didn’t want to cut him up. The only thing she could think of would be to lure him to the train tracks some night. There was a lovely spot where the ground was soft, she knew. She could probably dig the hole by herself just fine.

  It would be wrong, though. That place was special. Sacred. She couldn’t do that on her own, regardless of whether or not she was capable. That place belonged to him just as much as it belonged to her. To do such a momentous act, to take a life and to bury a secret … no, it wouldn’t be right to do it without her partner in crime.

  Still, there were days when her reasoning wore thin.

  “It’s a free park, I saw you sitting here, thought I’d say hi to my fave sis,” Matt started to laugh, but it turned into a coughing fit. She made a gagging sound and grabbed her bag from off the bench.

  “Don’t fucking follow me, or I swear to god, I’ll mace you again,” she threatened as she shoved her sketchbook into the bag.

  “C’mon, don’t be like that. We haven’t seen each other in a while, I’m just being friendly,” he pointed out. Dulcie didn’t say anything else, she just turned and started walking away. She groaned when she heard his footsteps pounding after her.

  “I’m not joking, Matt. How the fuck did you get out of prison, anyway!?”

  For a while, it seemed her prayers had been answered. Matt had gotten arrested on a grand theft auto charge and was sent to jail. She’d figured she’d be long gone before he’d have a chance to get free.

  “Fuckin’ pigs in this town can’t do their job right. Illegal search and seizure, they had to throw the whole thing out. You got twenty bucks?” he asked. She left the park and jogged across the street. He matched her step for step.

  “When have I ever given you money? As far as you’re concerned, I’ve never even heard of money, okay? So don’t ask me again,” she snarled, hurrying to the front of her building.

  “Why you gotta be so cold, Dulcie? You don’t know what it’s like, living in that fucking trailer. You got it so good and won’t even fuckin’ share,” he complained.

  “Share!? Why the fuck should I share anything with you? A fucking drug addicted loser who wants to fuck his own sister. You’re lucky I haven’t run you over yet. Don’t bother me anymore,” she warned him, then yanked open her door.

  Matt was grabby, but he rarely worked up the energy to be violent, so
she was shocked when he shoved her from behind. She stumbled across the entry way, almost ramming head first into a fire extinguisher. Before she could catch her balance, he was grabbing her by her shirt and slamming her against the wall next to the elevator. She let out a grunt as the air was forced from her lungs. Then he was pressed up against her and she resisted the urge to vomit.

  “So I’m just some drug addict, huh? Some fucking loser?” he hissed, using his weight to pin her in place.”

  “Get off me!” she demanded.

  “At least you got one thing right. Someone’s about to get fucked,” he threatened, and she felt his hand at the top of her jeans.

  There it was again, that same feeling of cold rage. Of someone trespassing on private property. Property that didn’t even belong to her. She let out a scream and she slammed her elbow into the side of his head. He cried out and stumbled back, pressing his hand to his ear.

  She turned and practically dove into the lift. It was a large, old freight elevator with a wooden gate that needed to be pulled shut in order for the contraption to work. She jumped up and grabbed the strap just as Matt lurched forward. The gate came from the bottom and top, closing in the middle, and the two pieces slammed together just as he reached in to grab her. His wrist was pinned in the middle, and while he shrieked in pain, she swung the latch to lock the gate into place.

  “I’m sorry,” she was gasping for air. “Did that hurt?”

  “My hand! My fucking hand! You fucking broke it!” he was yelling, yanking and pulling on his arm, desperately trying to get free. She leaned down close and examined his wiggling fingers.

  “No, doesn’t look broken. I think it’s moving too much for that,” she informed him.

  “Open the gate you crazy bitch!”

  “Don’t worry, though, we can solve that problem.”

  With a shout, she swung her heavy messenger bag straight down on his hand. Matt screamed as she broke his wrist. She collapsed against the back wall of the elevator and watched as he fell to his knees. His hand hung limply on her side of the gate. It looked completely unnatural, and it made her smile. A real smile, the first one she’d had in years.

  He was sobbing too much to be a threat, so Dulcie finally unlatched the gate and set him loose. He cried and cradled his hand to his chest, but she didn’t care. She kicked him in the stomach, sending him crashing down onto his back, then she slammed the gate shut again.

  “I told you – don’t ever bother me again, and don’t ever come back here, or I swear to god, I will fucking kill you.”

  And with that, she slammed her hand on the button for her floor and stared at him till the elevator cut off her view.

  13

  “Places! We do this every night, why are you acting like it’s your first time!?” Dulcie yelled out as she strode across the dining room floor of her restaurant.

  The Blue Rock Bar and Grill was one of three restaurants at the Blue Rock Country Club. One was much fancier, Dulcie hadn’t even bothered applying for a job there. The other was a breakfast and lunch buffet. Not high class enough, she needed bigger fish for her scam.

  The bar was the busiest, offered some of the best tips, and was more laid back. In the summer seasons, the staff swelled to accommodate all the guests, and the seasonal job attracted a lot of young workers. She was surrounded by people varying in age from sixteen to thirty. She wasn’t involved in the hiring process, the general manager handled all of that, but Dulcie made damn sure anyone who was hired on to her shift was more than capable of pulling their weight.

  So why half her staff was stumbling around and giggling nervously, she had no idea. They were easily two months into the really busy season, everyone knew how to do their jobs. The governor had come to play in May and had stopped in for a nightcap, and they’d all handled it fine. So what was going on? She stopped moving and put her hands on her hips, her eyes scanning the restaurant.

  David was behind the bar, cleaning glasses, and he winked at her. The action reminded her of Matt, though, and she quickly looked way. After she’d broken her half-brother’s wrist, she’d watched out her windows as he’d stumbled away from her building. That had been a week before, and she hadn’t seen or heard from him since then. But she was still looking over her shoulder, still careful when she went out at night. She had a very strong feeling the battle had not been won. That in fact, she’d just upped the ante and made a declaration of war. It was only a matter of time before he’d fire back.

  Thinking about something didn’t change it, though. There was nothing she could do till it happened, or till she had enough money to get away, so she pushed it to the back of her mind and tried to focus on work.

  She went back to looking over the restaurant, trying to figure out what the fuss was about. A couple bus boys were putting the finishing touches on the tables, straightening out silverware and placing glasses. A couple male waiters were standing at a wait station, making sure the specials were set up right for the evening. She narrowed her eyes and it dawned on her.

  It was all the girls. There were a couple clusters of waitresses, giggling and chatting in hushed tones. The male waiters were going about their business, making sure their sections were clean and tidy. Dulcie sighed and marched up to the closest gaggle of women.

  “Okay, what’s going on? We open in ten minutes, and I haven’t seen you guys check your areas once,” she stated.

  There was a chorus of sorry’s and most of the girls broke away. One stayed behind, though – her friend, Anna. The bubbly blonde had actually made it out of Fuller. Turned out all her giggling hid a pretty smart brain and she’d gone to college on a full scholarship. Now she only came back to Fuller for the summers. Dulcie didn’t like many people but for some reason, she’d always taken a shine to Anna, so she’d gotten the other girl a job at the bar.

  “It looks good in here and you know it,” Anna teased her. Dulcie shrugged.

  “I don’t care, they still need to do it. Let them slip once, and they’ll take advantage of me for the rest of the season. What’s going on, anyway?” she asked.

  “Haven’t you heard?”

  “Obviously not.”

  “The Honorable former Mayor Masters is going to grace us with his presence.”

  Dulcie groaned. Jebediah Masters was of course a member of the club – he was one of maybe three people in Fuller who were rich enough to actually afford it. He rarely visited, but he’d been there before, so it still didn’t explain everything.

  “Big deal. Warn the girls – after three drinks, he gets grabby,” Dulcie said, remembering a time when he’d gotten a hand up her skirt. She’d almost stabbed him with a fork. Briefly considered pulling her scam on him and then killing him in his sleep. Had ultimately laughed it off and flirted her way to a bigger tip.

  “Yeah, we all know about his grabby hands, but that’s not what they’re dying over,” Anna continued, a grin taking over her face.

  “Then what? He’s a shitty tipper, they’ll have to show a lot of ass if they want more than ten percent.”

  “He’s not coming alone.”

  Dulcie was surprised.

  “Who’s he bringing? God, please say he’s on a date. I can’t wait to see this bitch,” she cackled.

  “I heard he’s bringing his son.”

  “He doesn’t have a so-”

  Dulcie’s mouth stopped working. Or more like, her entire brain shut down. She’d completely separated Jebediah Masters from Constantine in her mind. She’d had to, after she’d started working at the club. She wouldn’t allow herself to think about Con, not at all. It helped that the elder Masters didn’t look much like his son.

  “Uh, I’m pretty sure you’ve met him,” Anna teased. Frannie had spread it around that Dulcie had stolen Con from her the night of the party, that she was some big boyfriend stealing whore. Never mind the little fact that Frannie and Con hadn’t been dating. Never mind that Dulcie didn’t care one iota what she, or anyone else, thought of her. Being
a whore was not the worst thing a person could be.

  A murderer, though … that’s pretty high up there.

  “Shit. Are you sure?” Dulcie asked, glancing out the windows. The entrance was technically behind her, through the club, but the entire back wall of the bar was glass, stretching all the way up to the vaulted ceilings. There were stunning views of the course, and a walkway wrapped around the building. Guests could be seen coming and going from the green.

  “I dunno, just what everyone is saying. Mr. Masters was bragging about it at the store, said Con was coming to town, how he was taking him to dinner, only the best, blah blah blah,” Anna explained. “And he has a reservation for tonight, so we all figured it was going down. Constantine Masters. God, we haven’t seen him in forever! Do you think he’s still hot?”

  “Yes,” Dulcie answered without hesitation. “He played ball all through college, I heard.”

  “You still got a thing for him?”

  Not really. Just a secret buried near the train tracks, that’s all.

  “No. But I do wonder about something,” Dulcie lifted her hand, tapping her fingernails against her bottom lip.

  “What?” Anna asked. Dulcie narrowed her eyes.

  “If he still has a thing for me.”

  *

  Mr. Masters’ reservation wasn’t until eight at night. Dulcie wished Anna had mentioned that; the restaurant opened at five. It would be hours before everyone’s curiosity was sated.

  “Stop hanging out up here!” Dulcie had to hiss more than a few times when the girls would gather around the hostess’ podium.

  “Who is this guy?”

  Dulcie was behind the bar, making a martini for one of the trustees. He claimed she was the only one who made it the way he liked.

  “Who’s who?” she asked, digging around for a shaker.