That’s right, keep looking at my smile, never mind those pesky fangs. All the better to eat you with.
“Maybe. But I could’ve been nicer when we broke up, so it’s fair. Stop by soon, okay? We’ll have dinner,” she offered.
“I’d really like that, Dulcie,” he said, then he reached out and tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear. She took a deep breath.
“I don’t work Sundays.”
“Sunday. Dinner. You and me.”
“Meet me here at eight, I can get us in at Tableau,” she said quickly, referring to the high end restaurant at the country club. Much nicer than the place she worked, it was easily four-star, and people usually had to book reservations weeks in advance.
“Sunday at eight, I’ll be here. Thank you.”
She squeezed his hand once, then stepped away from the car. Her heart was beating fast as she watched him drive away.
It was a bold move. Con probably wouldn’t like her just brashly making decisions without him. They may have been a demented sort of Bonnie and Clyde, but it wasn’t really fair to engage in an act of depravity without asking him whether or not he wanted to be a part of it.
She trekked around the building to the back parking lot and tried to figure out how she was going to explain it to him. He would go for it, of course, but she didn’t want him thinking it was to help Jared out. No, this was purely for selfish reasons. This was to stretch the game out a little longer.
Might as well have fun if he’s going to keep us cooped up in this town.
Dulcie was so lost in thought she didn’t hear the footsteps behind her. She was digging her keys out of her bag when someone grabbed her from behind. She was slammed up against her car door, causing her to drop all her belongings, then she was yanked away and pushed onto her hood. Her head smacked against a windshield wiper and she cried out in pain.
“You thought you’d get away with it, bitch!?”
Goddammit.
Matt, hissing in her face. He was like a cockroach that just would not die. While she felt around the back of her head to see if she was bleeding, he shoved his way between her legs, which were dangling over the side of her car.
“There’s security cameras out here,” she warned him, struggling against his weight as he leaned over her.
“Then we’d better give them a good show. Remember this?”
He had a plaster cast around his right forearm and hand, and he whipped it across her face. She tried to lean away, but wasn’t quite quick enough, and her cheekbone caught the edge of the cast.
“Oh fuck,” she groaned, pressing her palm to the side of her face. She could feel where the plaster had scratched away her skin.
“Yeah, think you can pull shit like that and get away with it? You fuckin’ bitch, you’re gonna pay for it. I should shove this cast up your ass,” he threatened. She started laughing.
“Well, it would be the closest you’d ever get to actually having sex.”
The cast came down on her chest and she gagged on air. While he pinned her down, he began pulling at her clothing. She started screaming, pure rage boiling in her veins, and she swung her body around, trying to break free from him.
“Give it up, Dulcie! Even if you get away, I know where you work. I know where you fucking live. I’m not going anywhere till you’ve paid for this fucking broken wrist! I won’t stop till I get what you owe me!” he yelled at her.
She wrapped both her hands around his neck and squeezed as hard as she could, really digging her fingernails in; she wanted to draw blood. He didn’t give her the chance – when he realized she wasn’t letting go and that he actually couldn’t breathe, he panicked and she got another smack with the cast.
Before he could hit her again, though, the shadows behind him moved. Breathed and came alive. Matt was on the ground before Dulcie even realized it was Con tackling him. She fell off the hood and scrambled onto her knees, watching as the two boys wrestled around. It should’ve been an easy fight for Con, he was six-foot-two and built out of solid muscle. Matt was maybe five-foot-ten, and would be lucky if he was 130 pounds soaking wet. Meth had not been kind to him.
Still, it was Con who backed down first. He let go of the smaller man and scooted backwards, then climbed to his feet. He moved so he was in front of Dulcie, blocking her view, so she stood up. But when she went to step around him, he put his arm out, blocking her. She peeked around him and saw what the issue was – Matt had a gun. A tiny thing, a snub-nosed pistol, but still deadly. Still lethal. He cocked the hammer back and pointed it straight forward, maybe a foot in front of Con’s heart.
“Oh yeah, you wanna fuck with me now, golden boy!?” Matt was screaming.
“Don’t do this, just walk -” Dulcie tried to talk him down.
“Shut up,” Con snapped. She shut her mouth.
“This is fuckin’ hilarious. Rich boy here likes fucking trailer trash, huh? Should’ve come and talked to me, man, I could’ve found you something way hotter than her.”
“Thanks, but I’ll stick with this particular piece of trailer trash.”
“Nah nah, friend, you have to wait your turn. I was here first.”
“You are very mistaken. You know how to use that toy, little boy?” Con asked. Matt’s sickly gray skin flushed bright pink.
“Is that a fucking joke!? I was fucking running this town when you assholes were still in kindergarten!” Matt informed them.
“Running it, really. Running what? Maybe a meth den. Or a local chapter of incestuous bastards anonymous,” Con kept needling him. Dulcie wanted to laugh, but Matt’s trigger finger didn’t exactly look steady. The guy was obviously high as fuck, not to mention royally pissed off. It wouldn’t take much for him to pull the trigger, and as god-like as Con was, she was pretty sure even he couldn’t survive a point-blank shot to the heart.
“Real funny, huh? Pretty boy thinks he’s so funny. Should fucking come down to where I live, I’ll fucking show you what a mouth like yours would be good for,” Matt spit out.
“I’ve got a better plan,” Con suggested. “Why don’t you come down to where I live, and after I shove that gun up your ass and pull the trigger, I rip off your fucking arms and beat you to death with them.”
Dulcie actually did laugh out loud at that one, and the sound startled Matt, drawing his attention to her. Distracting him. Con wasn’t distracted at all and without any warning, he snapped his hand out and grabbed for the gun.
Remember, he’s so quick.
A shot was fired and she screamed. Actually screamed, like a scared little girl. Before that moment, Dulcie hadn’t really ever felt true fear, but when she heard the shot, it blossomed in her chest. Con had been shot, and he would die, and she would be as good as dead without him. Life wasn’t worth living without the technicolor he provided.
Before her scream had even died off, though, she saw he hadn’t been shot. He’d grabbed the front of the gun and yanked it away from them. By the time Matt pulled the trigger, the barrel was pointing up at the sky. Con punched him in the face, and as the other guy went down, he yanked the gun free. Then he turned it around in his hand and pointed it down at his fallen opponent.
“No!” Dulcie yelled, then leapt around him and shoved him in the arm. He fired a shot into the back panel of her car.
“What the fuck do you think you’re doing!?” he demanded, staring at her like she was crazy. She kept a hand on his wrist and watched as Matt scrambled to his feet. He didn’t waste any time, he immediately ran off into the woods that abutted the edge of the golf course.
“C’mon, gun shots this close to the club, people might come look,” she realized she was almost gasping for air, and she shoved him towards her car.
He looked pissed off, but Con didn’t argue and he slid into the passenger seat. She peeled out of the parking space and raced off the property, making a hasty escape. It wasn’t until they were halfway to Fuller that she realized they’d left Con’s car behind.
“Why t
he fuck didn’t you let me shoot him?” he growled. She took a deep breath.
“Because it’s too easy,” she said in a simple voice.
“I don’t care. He fucking touched you. How long has this been going on?” he demanded.
“Forever? I used to barricade my door when I lived at home. It comes and goes, now. It’s like he’ll forget about me for a while, then get a wild hair and harass me for a couple weeks. Last time was right before you came back to town. He followed me into my building, I caught his arm in the elevator’s gate and broke his wrist,” she broke it down for him.
“You should’ve told me.”
Worse than him sounding angry, worse than him yelling. He sounded disappointed. If she hadn’t known any better, she also would’ve said he sounded a little hurt. Upset that she’d kept something from him.
“You weren’t here,” was all she could think to say. “You were gone, remember? I’ve gotten so used to dealing with him, I didn’t even think about it after you came back. He hadn’t been around. Out of sight, out of mind.”
Dulcie couldn’t be sure if her explanation appeased Con or not. He stayed silent for the rest of the car ride home, but he wasn’t always the most talkative person, anyway. When they got into Fuller proper, he still didn’t say anything, so she automatically drove them to her apartment.
“Let me see.”
He spoke as soon they got through her door, and she wasn’t even given a chance to turn around. Her grabbed her arm and yanked her over to her kitchen area. He turned on a set of fluorescent lights, then cupped his hand under her chin, forcing her to look up at him. His thumb brushed across the top of her cheek and she winced.
“That broken wrist really came back to bite me in the ass,” she tried to joke. He kept frowning.
“You’re lucky he didn’t break your eye socket.”
“Thank god.”
“We need to take care of him,” he said. Made a statement. Dulcie took a deep breath.
“I know. But it’s not that easy. And not yet, we have some unfinished business.”
“Apparently. I got to your work around ten.”
She was shocked.
“Were you spying on me!?” she demanded. He laughed and let go of her face.
“You sound so angry. If I want to spy on you, Dulcie, there’s nothing you can fucking do to stop it, but no, I was not spying on you. I had dinner at the other spot, thought I’d stop in and say hi,” he explained.
“Oh. Why didn’t you?” she asked.
“Because you were busy saying hi to Jared Foster. You looked deep in conversation. Is that part of a shift-manager’s job?” he checked.
“I’m allowed to sit and have conversations with old friends,” she insisted. He shoved his hands into his pants pockets and leaned down so his face was level with her own.
“Sure you are – with actual friends. Not with people we’ve committed felonies against,” he informed her. “I want to know every single fucking word he said to you.”
“Don’t trust me?” she snapped.
“I trust you. Stop changing the subject. Tell me what he said.”
“Tell me what happened to your dad.”
Con had been home for almost two months, but Jebediah Masters still hadn’t put in an appearance. At first, Con had told everyone his dad was away on business in New York, but eventually that had just given way to “I don’t know”. No, he didn’t know where his father was, and yes, he was concerned. Yes, their lawyers had been contacted and the police in New York had been called. Yes, that was why he was staying in Fuller – he wanted to be there in case his dad showed up. But no, he wasn’t overly concerned. Jebediah Masters had a habit of taking off on his own; hunting, fishing, whoring around, whatever, and not telling anyone. He always turned up in his own time.
Dulcie knew he wouldn’t be “turning up”. She could feel it. Con had done something. Something very, very bad, and he was keeping it from her. That’s what bothered her. They were supposed to be in this together. In her mind, it was ride-or-die. He knew all her dark little secrets, was allowed right into the center of her black little soul. She let him have carte blanche, yet he kept his own dark little deeds to himself. Why?
“Why do you want to know?” he asked, glaring down at her.
“Because I deserve to know. Because I’ve earned it. Because if this is a need-to-know-basis relationship, then I’m not interested,” she laid it all out.
Constantine laughed. He had a big laugh, it almost didn’t fit his persona. Well, the persona she got to see. His laugh was something made for the field. Made for jokes in the locker room, or laughing around a bar after a game. She could just picture him in college, using that laugh to pull people in, to make them want to laugh with him. Usually it settled around her, made her want to smile and revel in his happiness. But not in that moment.
I don’t fucking feel like laughing.
“Do you really think it’s that easy? That you can just walk away, little girl? Oh no. We’re in too deep, now. You can’t leave me anymore than I can leave you. So I hope you’re ready to buckle up, cause it’s gonna be a bumpy fucking ride.”
19
It made Con angry that Dulcie questioned him. He questioned her about so little. For instance, her wanting to destroy the Foster home. She said it was for Frannie, so Con believed her. The fact that Jared Foster was Dulcie’s ex-boyfriend didn’t factor into it, she claimed, and Con believed that, too. Not that it was easy – Jared was the first boy she’d ever dated. First lots of things, he was sure. It wasn’t fair. Con had only gotten to be first for one thing.
Though I’ll definitely get to be the last.
So that she was questioning him and doubting things, it bothered him. Made him sad, as well. They did unspeakable things with each other and to each other. Barely even needed to speak and could still understand what the other was thinking. Was he the only one experiencing it?
When Con had grabbed the gun from Matt, the shot had burned the palm of his hand. While he cleaned the wound, Dulcie went about changing the sheets on her bed. She was a stickler for clean sheets, he’d noticed. She changed them out every afternoon, and every time they had sex.
She spent a lot of time doing laundry.
“Are you going to pout all night?” he asked, watching as she crawled under the top sheet and turned her back to him.
“I don’t know. Are you going to tell me what I want to know?” she threw back at him. He rolled his eyes and moved onto the mattress.
“You’re being childish,” he informed her, sitting down. She snorted.
“I’m twenty-one. I’m allowed to be childish.”
“That’s debatable.”
“If you have nothing to say, then you should stop talking.”
Con took a deep breath and stretched out behind her. He stared at the back of her head for a moment, then reached out and touched his fingertips to her spine.
“The first time I saw you,” he kept his voice soft. “I mean, really saw you, we were in eighth grade. They were having an award assembly for some basketball thing, I don’t even remember. You were in the front row, and while everyone was clapping and cheering, you were drawing in a notebook. Then when it was my turn and they said my name, you looked up. First time in the whole assembly. You looked up and stared right at me.”
“That long ago? You never talked to me,” she pointed out. He nodded and continued moving his fingers over her vertebrae.
“I know. School ended, we went on vacation, all the usual stuff. Then I was a freshman, we were in different schools. I kind of forgot about you, but then my sophomore year, there you were again. We had an art class together, did you know that?”
That got her attention. She rolled around till she was facing him.
“Liar. I would’ve remembered.”
“Okay, I wasn’t in the class, I was a T.A., but still. The teacher kept me in his office, inputting grades, cleaning brushes, boring shit. One day, you left your sketc
hbook. Just got up and walked out without it,” he told her.
“I remember – it was lunch time. I went back and the door was locked.”
“Because I was inside looking through your book.”
“Nosy.”
“No shit. And it was like … without even talking to you, I knew you knew me. It sounds fucking stupid, but that’s how it felt. So before I even registered to you in your little Dulcie-world, I was having conversations with you in my head. You were just so shy back then, I was so worried I’d scare you. That I’d scare you and ruin us, and we’d never have a chance to be … to be …” he was at a loss for words.
“Greatness.”
See? You know me so well. Just trust that, and we’ll get through this.
“Yeah. So you see? It feels like I’ve known you for so much longer than you’ve known me. I would go to all the art shows the school had, would sneak into the art room before football practice. I kept waiting for you to notice me, to see me, for you to get it. I almost began to think you never would. And then I saw the drawing you did of us, the shadow man and the little girl, and that was it. I didn’t worry anymore. You weren’t ready then, and you still weren’t ready the following year, but I knew we’d be together,” he let it all out.
“So you stalked me all through high school,” she clarified.
“Kind of romantic, isn’t it?”
“It’s creepy as fuck.”
“Yeah, exactly – romantic. Anyway, I’m telling you all this to help you understand me the way I understand you. You have catching up to do, and I -”
“Hey! I do not -”
“You do. I’ve long since accepted what we are. Crazy. Fucked up. Murderers. You haven’t fully. Don’t lie to me and say you have, because I know you haven’t. And it’s okay. I waited for you for years. I’ll wait however long it takes,” he assured her.
There was silence for a long moment and she stared up at him. He was kind of nervous. Admitting to stalking a girl and then basically stating he knew her better than she knew herself, there was a strong chance it wouldn’t go over well. She could call the whole thing off. Could leave him alone in the darkness.
The Bad Ones Page 15