“Much better grandpa. Make this easy for us, okay.” Roland, laughing as he bolted the front door, shouted, “Fucking grandma must weight twenty pounds. I barely laid a fucking hand on her and she went flying.”
“Please,” Nicolae pleaded, “take what you want and leave.”
“What I
Nicolae sat up and Jack dropped down and slammed his fist in Nicolae’s face, two, three times, before the old man fell back, unconscious.
“Some people just don’t fucking listen,” said Jack as he reached inside Nicolae’s jacket and pulled out his wallet. He flipped the wallet opened and whistled, “Mother-fucker is carrying nothing but hundred dollar bills. Must be a couple thousand here.”
“Fucking foreigners. They come over here and take our shit and they’re rich to begin with,” Roland said, looking down at Nicolae. “Damned, dude, you did your Ranger thang on his ass. He’s out cold.” Jack stood, ripped the money out and shoved it in his jean pocket, and then rummaged through the wallet, pulling out a handful of credit cards.
“Man, this old fuck is loaded.” He threw the wallet over to Roland, laughing.
“You’re into wallets. Tuck that baby in your pocket, you might like it.”
“Fuckin’ A, man, looks like real leather,” Roland said while he looked through the wallet, dropping papers and cards, and then shoved it into his back pocket. “Nothin’ like a souvenir to take home.” Jack looked into what looked to be formal dining room and eyed a huge pair of silver candlesticks and a set of gold flatware. He whistled, then snapped at Roland, “Check in on granny, then let’s spread out. As old as this fucking place is they have to have shit we can hock.” As Roland turned toward the parlor, Nicolae grabbed at his ankle.
“You leave her alone!”
In a panic, Roland turned, and bam, bam, shot Nicolae in the chest.
“What the fuck? People’ll hear that shit,” Jack shouted just beneath Steliana’s scream. She was standing at the parlor door, clutching her heart, screaming.
“Motherfucker grabbed me, man, what was I supposed to do?” Roland defended. “We gotta pop their asses anyway. Can’t have no witnesses, right?”
Steliana ran for Nicolae and Roland grabbed her by her hair and proceeded to pistol-whip her down to the floor. “Stay down, bitch, or you get two in the head.” Steliana didn’t move. She lay looking at Nicolae, crying, trying to reach out to him.
Jack grumbled something and then grabbed Nicolae by the ankles and dragged him down a long hallway to the kitchen. “Take care of grandma, asshole, and no more fucking shooting. Fuck, before you know it the cops will be breaking down the fucking door.”
Roland protested in his defense as he grabbed Steliana by the ankles and dragged her down the hallway. As she moved, her jacket opened and her dressed hiked up and Roland froze. “Mother fuck! Look at this bitch. She’s got the fucking body of a thirty year old...” He looked at her legs, thighs, and then his eyes rested on her crotch. She had the best-looking body he had ever seen. Her thighs were milky white and shone of silk. Her stomach was flat, her crotch, tantalizing. “Damn dude...” He gasped and licked his lips. “She ain’t wearing grannie panties...” In the heat of the moment he dropped down to his knees and ripped open her blouse, and drew in another deep breath.
Her full breast looked firm and inviting. He had never seen anything that looked like this that wasn’t on the screen or in a magazine. He straddled her and groped her breasts with both hands. He wanted her so badly he couldn’t stand the moment.
He then looked up at her face and jumped up, wide eyed. She looked twenty, thirty years younger than she did five minutes ago. “I gotta break me off a piece of this before we leave,” he whispered, drooling. He dry-washed his face as he couldn’t believe what he was seeing. He had taken a few hits from the crack pipe while sitting in the Mustang and had one helluva buzz but he had never had anything like this happen to him before, the bitch had to be real. She just had to.
“Have at it butthead; if you like old meat. But first the money and jewels. And those fucking candlesticks, knives, all that shit.” Roland knelt down and squeezed her breasts, and immediately got an erection. He put the pistol beneath her chin and dug in. “You stay here nice and quiet and you live. You move...”
Steliana nodded, then moved as if inviting him down. She then looked at his crotch as he stood and a shiver went down Roland’s back. He uttered,
“What the...”
“Ro! Quit fucking with her,” Jack shouted. He opened a door and looked in. It was pitch black. The reflection from the kitchen lights disappeared at the door and Jack hesitated for a long breath before he took a cautious step to the door. He felt the left wall, looking for a switch all the while thinking he’d lose his hand if he didn’t hurry. He felt the switch, flipped it on, and a soft glow appeared at the bottom of the steps. “All right!
Fucking basement.” He lifted Nicolae and dropped him down the steps—
boom, boom, boom—echoed as Nicolae went down and then rested at the bottom of the steps. Jack turned the light off, shut the door, and when he turned, Roland was standing over Steliana as if in a trance, mumbling and licking his lips, rubbing his crotch, playing with himself.
Jack grabbed Roland and slammed him against the wall. “Wake up asshole.”
Roland blinked as if he was coming out of a trance, and when he looked back down, he was looking at an eighty-year-old woman. “What the...” He looked at Jack. “Something ain’t right here, man, let’s bolt.”
“What?”
“We got his wallet man. Let’s get the fuck outta here!” Roland shouted in a manner that almost resembled a scream. Somehow, she had taken his badass attitude. He knew it. She was doing this to him.
“I ain’t leaving until we clean this place out, got it!”
“Nah, man, shit, this place is fucking with us!”
“It’s all in your fucking head. I told you not to toke on that pipe,” Jack said while pushing Roland down the hall in the direction to the staircase they saw when they came in. “If that old fuck had that kind of cash in his wallet, you know he has more upstairs.”
Roland armed beads of sweat from his forehead, and when Jack grabbed his arm to pull him up the steps, he stopped. “What the fuck is with you, Ro, get your ass upstairs.”
“I don’t want to… man, I want to get out of here... It ain’t the dope, it’s this place, it’s her, she’s fucking with me.” Jack didn’t answer, he merely stared at Roland as if he could do him now. “I’m cool, Jack... I’m cool,” Roland said, holding up his hands. He looked back down to Steliana and mumbled, “I’m cool...”
Jack pushed passed him and took two steps at a time. Suddenly scared out his mind, Roland ran up the stairs, catching up with Jack at the top. He turned and looked down, half expecting to see granny standing at the bottom looking up at him and beckoning him to come back down.
He exhaled a sigh of relief. He knew if she were standing at the bottom of the steps he’d have a heart attack.
“Ro, man, you look like you seen a fucking ghost, get with it man,” Jack snapped, bringing Roland back from another trance.
Roland then followed Jack into a room that looked as if it were an office. A huge mahogany desk stood in the middle of the room. Behind the desk were shelves lined with books, and off to the right was a safe. The picture that typically hung in front of the safe was on the floor and leaning against the wall. The door to the safe was left open. Inside were stacks of what looked to be money.
Jack bounded to the safe and when he looked inside, he couldn’t believe his eyes. There were stacks and stacks of hundreds and fifties that filled the back half of the safe. The front half contained a wooden box and when Jack opened it he exclaimed, “Fuck me, dude, we hit the motherfucking mother lode.” He looked back to Roland and paused.
Roland’s eyes were wide as if he had just met the Grim Reaper. Jack pushed him on the shoulder, “Dude, did you hear me? There must be thousands of dollars in cash and jewels, go find me something to dump this shit in.” But Roland didn’t move, couldn’t move, it was as if rigor mortis had settled in.
“Jesus-fucking-Christ, Ro, get a fucking grip.”
“He ain’t gonna help us,” Roland mumbled in a hypnotic tone. “We’re fucking dead men.”
