The restorer announced in its sexy porn-star voice that the pizza was now perfectly restored … no cold spots, no dried-out crust. It was, once more, as fresh as the night it had been brought to his doorstep. Gingerly, he removed the hot slices from the appliance and dropped them onto a plate. He then proceeded upstairs, helping himself to the top slice as he mounted the stairs.
They were in the master bedroom, the three of them. Ollie’s wife, Beatrice, lay on the bed, clad only in a low-cut purple nightie that barely covered her lap. No doubt she’d been in bed getting off to one of her weird erotica novels when Gideon and Junior had walked in on her. He wondered what it had been this morning? Aliens with phallic-like tentacles? Shapeshifters or werewolves to titillate those forbidden bestial desires? Vampires to satisfy her need to be seduced and controlled? Who knew? Who cared?
Her hands had been duct-taped to the bedposts on the headboard. Her lower lip was cut and bleeding, and her left eye was purplish-black, swollen nearly shut. Her head lolled back limply against the pillow as she sobbed uncontrollably. Gideon, naked from the waist down, was between her legs. It was a sight that Ollie could’ve done without. He appeared done with whatever deviancy he had been perpetrating upon her. His manhood was semi-erect and slick, but deflating rapidly. He was rubbing the back of his right hand gingerly. When he saw Ollie enter the room, he grinned a yellow-toothed sneer.
“Your missus sure has a hard noggin!” he cackled. “I think I might’ve busted a knuckle.”
Ollie shrugged and held up the plate. “Pizza?”
“Thankee there, friend! Don’t mind if I do!” The old hood grabbed a slice from the plate. “All this has kinda got my appetite worked up.”
Junior had been sitting in Ollie’s favorite real-leather armchair by the window staring out the window, utterly uninterested in watching his old man rape a defenseless woman. The last few days had caused him to change the way he thought. Just a few nights ago, he’d eagerly participated in trying to do this very same thing to that animal girl. Rayford had gotten his hand shot off for it. Then his dick.
Maybe it was justice, after all. Maybe Rayford got what he deserved. Listening to this pitiful lady scream and beg and cry out in pain, it no longer seemed right. A man ought not to be able to do this whenever he felt it like his Old Man had taught him growing up. What the fuck was wrong with that old bastard? Why did everything he did have to involve someone else suffering? Why did he feel he had to abuse a woman to lay with her?
Of course, Junior was sure there was some Bible verse the old bastard had memorized to justify it. He always did.
“Pizza, Junior?” Ollie offered, interrupting his troubled ponderings.
“Yessir, thank ya, sir!” Junior rose and made his way over to claim a slice for himself. “Much obliged.” He decided to use this moment as a convenient excuse to escape this scene. “Gonna grab a beer from the fridge. Be right back.”
“Grab me one too, boy!” Gideon yelled after him, but Junior acted as if he didn’t hear.
“Ollie …” Beatrice, her voice low, racked by sobs, called to him. Slowly, he turned to her, his face emotionless. “Ollie, please. I’m sorry. Whatever I did … I’m sorry.”
How long had it been since he’d heard his wife speak in such a subdued tone? Years? Ten years? Where was that arrogant, hateful voice now? The one that never missed a chance to demean him. It was more of a pathetic whimper. He felt the rage boil inside him. How dare she, after all these years, attempt to play the sympathy card now.
As he stood there staring at her, he fought the urge to hit her himself. But, secretly, he feared to do so. The truth was, he’d never hit anyone in his life. That’s why he’d paid Gideon to exact his revenge. What if he did it wrong? What if he slapped her and looked like a nutless little cumdrip doing it? Would these two real thugs laugh at him? Humiliate him? Even Gideon was complaining of sore knuckles. Hell, he might break his whole hand. He couldn’t risk that … not right now.
Instead, he knelt down in front of her, and a cold, reptilian smile crossed his face. “Ah, my lovely bride! Last night you sure were singing a different tune out there on the pool deck. Don’t you remember? You seemed to enjoy kicking me when I was down. Talking about how you were going to leave me and take what was rightfully yours.”
“Listen, Ollie. I kno—” Her one good eye was wild and panicked, but Ollie cut her off with a forefinger to her crushed lips.
Shhhhh!” he shushed her. “You done had your say. Now I’m gonna have mine.” He made a show of scratching his chin thoughtfully. “So ... you wanna leave me? After all, I gave you, huh? A house. Kids. The finest clothes. The best hovercars. Jewelry.”
“I wasn’t thinking straight!” she interjected desperately. “I realize now how wrong I was!”
Ollie sighed and shook his head. “No, I think you meant what you said last night. And you know what? I wholeheartedly agree with you. It is time we part ways. I think a fresh start will be best for both of us.” He patted her knee comfortingly. “And I’m even going to help you fulfill your wildest dreams.”
“What do you mean?” she asked, immediately suspicious. She knew him well enough to sense an impending double-cross.
He jerked his head to his left shoulder, indicating Gideon. “See your ol’ lover Gideon here? I
