Something_Violent

by Rufty, Kristopher

  He pitched them his idea for the book, and was delighted when he got their approval. “I don’t see how I can wrap this up in just one book.”

  “Then do a series,” Jody said.

  “I like the way you think,” Ron said.

  Jody beamed from the compliment.

  “I’ll also make sure you receive part of the profits,” Ron said. “We’ll split it down the middle after my publisher takes their cut.”

  “You better,” Seth said.

  Before the stocky killer could say anything else, Ron wrote out a simple contract. He signed it, then had Jody and Seth do the same. “I’ll put this in my safe,” he said.

  “Oh,” Seth added, “I almost forgot, we already got it approved for you to join Something Violent. Jody’s idea. She thought you could start your own board, and people could post questions. The webmaster agrees it’ll be a great addition to the site. Plus, we proved to him that you’re trustworthy. You never reported us to the cops, after all.”

  “Keep the answers short,” Jody said. “You don’t want to give away too much if it’s going in the book.”

  Ron laughed. “You should be my agent.”

  “Hire me and I will.”

  All of them laughed. The Covingtons left a few minutes later. After they were gone, Ron called his agent, giving her the same pitch he’d given Jody and Seth. She loved it so much, she phoned the editor at Repose Books on a three-way line so Ron could pitch it directly to him. Just as Ron had assumed, the editor loved it just as much. Within a week, the contract arrived with a hefty advance. When he got the first payment, he took a leave of absence from his office, sent the Covingtons their half, and got to work.

  The soft groans of the floor in the hallway snapped Ron out of his splendid recollections. He quickly saved the file and was closing the laptop when Judith knocked on his door again. By the time she stuck her head in, Ron was standing up.

  Judith smiled. “Look at you, already wrapped up.”

  “I promised.”

  “Good,” she said. “Let’s go to bed.”

  “Tell you what, why don’t we head out to the cabin tomorrow instead?”

  “It’s Thursday, I thought you wanted to wait…”

  “Nah, it’s fine. There’s a lot I want to catch you up on, and we’ll have plenty of time at the cabin.”

  Judith looked a little confused with a hint of anxiety. “You’re not coming out, are you?”

  “No. Nothing like that.”

  Smiling, Judith put her arm around Ron. “Thank God.” Smiling, she put her arm around Ron’s shoulders. “Fine, tell me later. For now, let’s hit the sack.”

  “Good idea.”

  They went to their bedroom. Judith had already folded down the blankets. When they were in bed, Ron gave her plenty of proof that he was not coming out of the closet. Yes, they slept, but not for a couple hours.

  31

  Jody

  I love the beach, especially at night. There’s a crisp breeze coming off the ocean, wrapping around me like a gentle, chilly hug. Wow, that was pretty good. Not great, but decent enough. Maybe I should write the next book, or at least co-write it with Ron.

  Nah.

  I’ll let him handle the books, he’s the real writer. Plus he knows all those fancy words I’ve never heard before. But one thing I did realize when talking to Ron McClure in the basement that night was that I need to express my thoughts. Whether by talking to myself in the shower or writing, I have to get them out. If I let them build up in my head, they turn into a cancer that rots my brain.

  That’s where this journal comes in handy. It makes it easier putting my jumbled thoughts into some kind of order by writing them down. Of course, I still talk to myself—long solo drives are great places for that. But most of the time, I just sit by myself at the table, drink some coffee, and write. It’s so soothing; no wonder Ron enjoys it so much. My favorite time to write is early in the morning, though a mild night like tonight works too.

  I checked in on Ron earlier. Looks like the book is coming along, which is fine. He can sit in front of the computer all he wants, and Seth and I will live it up at the beach.

  Not enjoying it as much right now, though. Just like the other times when we talked to Ron, I’m thinking about that night at Pappy’s again. Our final night.

  I wonder how many pages I’ve already filled in this journal about that night.

  A Memoir of Jody Covington’s Wild Adventures.

  Probably a lot. I don’t know for sure, since I never go back and reread what I wrote. So I’ll either write it again now, or write it for the first time. Either way, it’s new to me!

  We left Ron in the basement so he’d be out of the way. If he died, that would’ve sucked, especially since he’d later helped make us a lot of money by getting our story out there. Plus, he’s kind of likable, underneath that posh, upper-class shell of his. I think it’s mostly an act that he puts on for his clients, to make himself seem smart and sophisticated.

  Wait, where was I?

  Oh, right—Pappy’s kitchen.

  Seth and I stood behind a protruding section of the wall. Seth lowered the twelve-gauge so he could peek around the corner. While he did that, I adjusted the knife in my left hand, angling the blade away from my leg.

  Then I thumbed back the hammer of Pappy’s .41. He’d given it to me to replace the one I threw away. Poor Pappy. Looking at the gun brought fresh tears to my eyes, turning my distorted reflection in the slick metal blurry.

  Then I noticed the smell of cigarette smoke. It was too strong to have been one of Pappy’s, still lingering after he’d smoked it. I noticed thin trails of smoke drifting into the kitchen.

  It was coming from the living room.

  Seth turned around, looked me in the eyes. He didn’t speak. He didn’t have to. We knew each other so well we could have conversations with just our eyes.

  They’re waiting for us, he said.

  I know.

  There’s no point trying to surprise whoever’s out there.

  I know that, too.

  Seth leaned down and kissed me. His lips felt soft, yet dry, against mine. He pulled away, ending the kiss too soon. He held out his hand. Reaching under my dress, I carefully slipped the knife blade behind the strap of my panties. The metal was cold and stiff against my leg. Then I took his hand, letting him guide me into the living room.

  Even without any kind of light, I still recognized Trish sitting in Pappy’s recliner, the footrest up. Maybe it was the dark, but she didn’t quite look like she did in the pictures she’d sent to Seth. She had on no makeup at all, which made her face look tired and pale. Her legs, crossed at the ankles, were stretched out, boots with three-inch heels nearly hanging off the edge. She wore skintight jeans that looked like denim paint on her legs. Her bright hair seemed to thin the darkness around her head as it hung around her bare shoulders. The straps of her black tank top made narrow lines on her shoulders that spread to thicker darkness around the jutting mounds of her breasts. I hate to admitI felt a pang of envy looking at those glossy hills.

  When she smiled, her teeth were a white block in the dark. “There you are,” she said. The cherry end of a cigarette lifted toward her mouth, then brightened as she inhaled. Her face was momentarily dabbed in soft pink hues. “Sit down,” she said. “I’m sure you’re exhausted after the day you’ve had.”

  “You killed him,” Seth said, starting forward. I held out my arm, stopping him when his stomach bumped my arm.

  “Killed who?” Trish asked.

  “Don’t play games with me,” he said. I could see the shotgun trembling in his hands.

  Trish smiled again. “Oh. The old man?”

  “Old man? My grandfather.”

  Trish winced as if she’d heard something vulgar. “Oooh, that bites.” She took another drag on the cigarette. “Though I’m sure his untimely death doesn’t sit well with you, I assure you it wasn’t me who killed him.”

  “You’re t
he only one here,” I said. Just as I finished uttering the statement, movement to my left caught my attention. Somebody tall emerged from the shadows and stood in front of the large picture window. With the thin white curtains pulled shut, it washed the person in a dim, wraithlike spread. The fluffy, bouncy hair gave away who he was. “Damn,” I muttered.

  “Surprised to see me?” Glenn asked.

  “A little,” I said, “I mean, we kind of expected to bump into you at some point. Then we, well, just…forgot all about you.”

  Glenn’s face was smudged in heavy shadow, but I could still see the anger causing premature wrinkles.

  “Where’s that sneaky sister of yours?” I asked, looking around the room. “I know she likes to sit back and watch.”

  “She’s close,” he said.

  “Never mind,” I said. “I see her over there by the fireplace.”

  “Shit,” Stacey whispered. Her milky skin was like moonlight as she walked over to the chair. She stood behind it, hands flat on the cushion above Trish’s head.

  “How’s that back of yours?” I asked.

  “Feeling better every day.”

  “Good to hear,” I said. “I bet it left a really nasty scar. Please tell me it left a scar…”

  Growling, Stacey started to make her way around the chair.

  Trish held up her hand. “Stop,” she said.

  Stacey halted, then backed up, keeping her eyes on me.

  Trish patted the side of the chair, then pulled up. The footrest dropped with a bang, the heels of her boots clacking on the floor. “I told you two to sit.”

  “I told you to fuck off,” I said. “Wait, no I didn’t. Not yet. Fuck off.”

  I saw the pale splotch of Trish’s face tilt slightly upward into something like a smile. “I bet a lot of people think your sense of humor’s cute. I know I did, for a while.”

  “Your husband surely did,” Seth said. “Before Jody chopped off his head.”

  I silently commended Seth for his insult.

  Trish let out a long breath through her nose. “I don’t find your personality cute at all.”

  “Me neither,” said Glenn.

  “I call bullshit,” I said. “You were eating it up that day you picked me up.”

  “Please, it was an act. I was going to kill you.”

  “So how’d you wind up with Lady Platinum over here?” I asked.

  “Something Violent,” he said.

  “Figures.”

  Glenn shrugged. “Private message board Trish started, devoted to killing the two of you. At first I wasn’t sure if it was really you Trish was trying to assemble a crew to go after, but when she sent me the link to your profile, I couldn’t believe it. Finally, I was going to get to kill you.”

  Though Glenn was a doofus, I couldn’t help feeling a wave of unease move through me. There were three of them and two of us, now that Pappy was…gone.

  Sure, we had guns. But they did too. I could see Glenn clutching some kind of handgun. Stacey probably had one as well. Trish’s was on the coffee table, a chrome .45 within easy reach. This would get loud and action-packed any moment now.

  “All right, enough,” Trish said. “I asked nicely before, and I will one more time. Please, sit down. If I have to ask again, it will be without my manners.”

  “You’re in my house,” Seth said. “So if we want to stand, then we’re going to stand. If you have a problem with it, then leave. You don’t give orders in my house.”

  Hearing Seth talk like that made me quiver inside. He was becoming more and more like his old self each second.

  Trish nodded. “Fine. Have it your way.”

  “Come on,” I said. “I seriously doubt if we would’ve sat down, this could’ve been solved with some friendly chitchat.”

  Laughing, Trish held out her hands. “True. But you can’t blame me for trying.”

  “So what is this?” Seth asked. “Revenge?”

  Trish shrugged. “A bit. But not for what you think. Do you believe I really give a shit that Zach’s dead? Hell no. Jody killing him had been my plan all along. But I guess I gave Zach too much credit, because I had assumed he would’ve killed her too.”

  Now I was confused. I felt my face strain with a confused frown. “You hoped we’d kill each other?”

  “Yes. See, Zach thought that he was supposed to kill you when you two were done. That was the plan going in. I knew you wouldn’t go down without a fight. Zach wouldn’t have expected such retaliation. I figured neither one of you would’ve made it out of those woods. But…I guess I underestimated you. You came out of there just fine.”

  “Tell that to the gnarly scar on my leg,” I said.

  “You didn’t have enough wounds to kill you, anyway,” said Trish. “While you two were at the camp, I waited on Seth to show up at the bar, but he never did. My plan was for Seth and me to change our plans. Maybe swing by the hotel room I’d already paid for. I figured when news broke that you were killed, Seth would be devastated and I would be there to console him.”

  “Catch him on the rebound,” I said.

  “Right.”

  “You bitch,” I said. “You want Seth.”

  “Wanted Seth.” Trish looked at my husband. “Well, I guess I still do, if he’s willing.”

  Seth stared at her, his mouth open. He looked shocked. At least, I hoped that was what it was. For all I knew, he might’ve been impressed.

  “So you sent Seth those pictures,” I said, “knowing the whole time what you were going to do?”

  “Exactly,” Trish said, pointing at me. “I led you into the swinging stuff, while messing with Seth’s head all at the same time. And you didn’t just nibble at the line I dropped you, you latched on. I’m bad, I know.”

  “You’re a bitch,” I said.

  “Yeah, I’m that too, I suppose.” Trish laughed. “So Seth, what do you say? Ditch Jody and leave with me?”

  Trish and I looked at Seth. He’d hadn’t looked this uncomfortable downstairs with Ron. Rubbing the back of his neck with one hand, the shotgun pointing at the floor in the other, he stared at Trish. “You did all of that for…me?” he asked in a dumbstruck voice.

  Trish sat forward, putting her hands together. Her fingers poked under her chin. “Yes, baby, I did. Every bit.”

  “I can’t believe it…”

  I felt my heart starting to sink into the bubbling ache of my stomach.

  “Believe it,” Trish said. “All for you, my love.”

  “You did all of that, just to get me with you…” Seth shook his head. “Wow…you’re really going to be disappointed when I blow your goddamn head off.” Seth raised the shotgun.

  As I smiled, I realized Trish would never get to her gun in time. But Glenn, he was already swinging his arm up, aiming his gun at Seth.

  I dropped to my knees, thumbing back the hammer on my gun. Like an idiot, Glenn turned away from Seth, aiming his pistol at where he thought I was standing. His face went slack when he saw I was gone.

  I fired.

  The room lit up from the flash of the launching bullet. I saw Glenn’s expression in the bright blast. He realized his mistake.

  Then the bullet punched into his stomach, throwing him against the wall. As he slowly slid down, leaving a bloody smear on the wallpaper, I turned sideways. Glimpsed Seth’s finger squeezing the shotgun’s trigger just as somebody pounced on his back. Seth, knocked sideways, fired the shotgun.

  A chunk of chair cushion beside Trish’s head was blown away. Screaming, Trish slunk to the floor, her lemon-colored hair lashing.

  Seth spun around, smacking at the person on his back. I assumed it was Stacey, but I spotted her clambering out from behind the chair, the machete from her video grasped in both hands like a sword.

  A quick flurry of gunfire erupted near Seth’s head. Rapid flashes ignited his flailing arms as he tried to dislodge the person on his back. In a quick burst of light from the gun, I saw Ruth hanging on his back. She had an arm wrapped
around his throat, the other holding a small .22-caliber pistol. She only had one eye. The other was covered with a patch that looked a lot like Goober’s.

  Seth hadn’t killed her, after all. Just gotten her eye. I bet that was Goober’s patch she used to cover it.

  “Get her off me!” Seth screamed.

  I started to stand. From the corner of my eye, I noticed Trish bringing up her gun. Turning sideways, I dived for the couch. Bullets whacked the cushions under me as Trish fired, throwing up thick clumps of padding. I rolled up the back cushion as more bullets ripped through below me. I felt one graze my shin, a flurry of stings spreading across my leg. Then I was on top, still rolling, and dropped down to the other side.

  Glenn, back against the wall, stuck in a squat, jerked as Trish’s bullets made juicy red holes in his chest and stomach.

  “Shit!” I heard Trish yell over the gunfire. “Damn it, Glenn!”

  “Glenn!” Stacey screamed. “I’ll kill you, bitch!”

  More gunshots, but these didn’t touch Glenn. He dropped on top of me, sliding across my chest from his blood. Wiggling my way out from under him, I felt the warm stickiness painting my skin. Finally, I was free, though plastered in blood.

  Sticking my head up above the couch, I caught sight of Stacey and Trish struggling over the gun. Trish’s arm was bent to the side, her finger squeezing the trigger. Bullets destroyed the walls across the room.

  Seth, on the other side of the room, repeatedly slammed his back against the wall, crushing Ruth between him and the wall. Finally, she dropped her gun. Seeing this, Seth dropped his. Then he reached up, grabbing her wrist with both arms and pulled.

  He didn’t notice the knife in her left hand, but I did, as he tossed her over his shoulder. She landed in a squat at his feet, quickly rising.

  “Seth!” I screamed.

  But I was too late. Ruth punched her knife into Seth’s belly.

  Or so I thought.

  When Seth twisted her arms, I saw the knife fall from her grasp. Seth’s stomach looked fine. And the knife was clean.

  Thank you, I thought.

  Then winced when Seth slammed the little girl’s skull against the corner of the fireplace mantel. When he stepped back, Ruth hung from the blunt tip, feet dangling above the floor. A shoe dropped off her foot, landing on its side on the floor. This time, I felt no repulsion for Seth’s actions. I felt zero remorse for Ruth’s demise. She’d brought it on herself by coming here.