especially not to Jim. He was such a stickler for the rules. How could I explain about the clandestine meeting that never happened? Besides, come the morning, I wouldn’t need to waste an ounce more of energy on the rules or Brixton. The world of
It was fucking bizarre. They’d strung a sign above the entrance to the chapel that read GOOD LUCK IN THE BIG APPLE. I didn’t have the heart to tell them that New Yorkers never called New York the Big Apple. There were handshakes, a kiss or two, beers-lots of beers-and even a goodbye cake. The cake part of the festivities felt more surreal than shooting ever had. At least there was no pinata, nor was anyone suggesting we play Pin the Tail on the Donkey.
Once the cake was dispensed with, they began passing my Christmas present around. I was relieved to have their focus shift away from me and to the Python. They were loading it up and taking pot shots into the mattresses at the back wall. Fine by me. I half-hoped one of them would break the thing so I’d have an obvious excuse to leave it behind. As it was, I had arranged for Renee to keep it at the house in Brixton for me until I figured out what I was going to do with it. I knew that stalling for time wasn’t much of a strategy. I figured if I procrastinated long enough, the situation might take care of itself.
Jim brought out a bottle of Laphroaig Single Malt-Kant Huxley’s favorite scotch. He poured a round of thimble-sized shots for everyone. I thought there was some chapel rule against shooting and drinking alcohol stronger than beer, but who the fuck cared? The minute the bottle came out, Renee’s demeanor changed again. No longer just tense or sad, she looked undone. She literally grabbed my forearm, urging me to leave.
“Please, Kip, let’s go home. I don’t know how much longer I can hold myself together in front of other people and I want time alone with you.”
There was palpable desperation in her voice, and although I kind of dreaded the heartache coming once we got home, I agreed to leave. But as we made our move to exit, Jim stepped between us as if cutting in on a dance.
“Come on, Kip,” he said, taking my arm as Renee had. “They want to see you fire the Python, then you can split.”
I shrugged my shoulders at Renee and went with Jim.
Someone had set up a row of beer cans on a plank at the far end of the chapel. The deputy sheriff, who’d just finished loading the big Colt, handed it to me. “Go for it,” he said.
“Go! Go! Go! Go!” the rest of them chanted. “Go! Go! Go!” It was the same thing the cop had shouted as my students escaped from the classroom after I grabbed Frank Vuchovich’s gun.
I went, nicking the first can, then obliterating the rest, beer soaking the mattresses behind them. I opened the cylinder, dumping the spent shells to the ground. They clinked like off-key wind chimes against the concrete floor. There was a round of applause as I handed the Colt back to the deputy, but someone wasn’t clapping.
“You’re pretty fucking good with beer cans … for a cunt,” Stan Petrovic snarled, the near-empty bottle of scotch in his hand. He had mean-drunk eyes and a red, feral face.
I didn’t say anything and walked away. Once I was out of there, I thought, I would never have to deal with the asshole again. But it wasn’t going to be that easy. He stepped directly in my path, putting himself halfway between Renee and me.
“What’s wrong, cunt? Your bitch in heat? Gotta go home and fuck her in the ass before you leave her to the rest of us? I heard she likes it in the ass, the same way Jim’s momma used to like it.” He growled, hurling the scotch bottle at my head. I ducked just in time and it smashed against the chapel floor behind me. I bit down hard on the inside of my cheeks and tried to think of anything else.
Stan wasn’t close to finished. “Come on, faggot,” he taunted. “Not so brave when you can’t sucker punch me in the nuts, huh? You didn’t think I was going to forget that, did you?”
“Shut up, Stan. Just shut the fuck up!” I heard someone screaming. It took a second before I noticed it was me.
“Shut me up, cunt!” He came up to me, put a gnarled hand on my chest and shoved me back. It wasn’t hard enough to knock me down, but hard enough to let me know my leaving was going to have to go through him. “Shut me up.”
I looked around and noticed no one was willing to get involved. Stan was trouble. I was going in the morning, but they would still be here and so would Stan. I knew better than most that he wasn’t the kind of man you wanted angry at you.
“Shut me up,” he repeated.
“You’re not worth it, Stan.”
Apparently, that was precisely the wrong thing to say. He shoved me again, only this time hard enough to send me sprawling backwards.
“Show me you got some balls, faggot. Shoot with me and this will all be over for good.”
“You’re fucking crazy,” I said, scrambling to my feet. “You know that?”
“Crazy, huh? I’ll show you crazy.”
And almost before he got the last word out of his mouth, he turned and bulled his way through the crowd. There was a collective gasp, and by the time I had made my way through the wall of bodies, I saw what the gasp was all about. Stan had Renee, one thick forearm tight around her neck, his other hand twisting her arm behind her.
“Shoot with me and I’ll let her go.”
“You
He didn’t even answer, just smiled that ragged, saw-toothed smile, and twisted her arm so hard she screamed.
“Let her-”
She screamed again, tears pouring down her cheeks, and she went limp.
“Next time, her shoulder comes out of the socket, faggot. What’s it gonna take? You wanna watch me fuck her? That it? Is that what it’s going to take? ’Cause I’m all in for that: fucking her and killing you. Talk about hitting the daily double. She’s so young, I bet her pussy’s as tight as Jim’s mom’s asshole was.” He moved his paw so that it reached Renee’s right breast and squeezed it hard enough to make her wince. “Nice firm tits. I bet she’s wet for me.”
I looked at Jim, wondering why he hadn’t reacted to any of this. He was frozen, an angry little boy, powerless and confused, a scowl on his face. He wasn’t going to be of any help at all. I wasn’t the only one looking at Jim. The rest of them were looking to him as well. Sheep, they took their cues from him. He was inert and so they were inert. There I was in a room full of people, all expert shots, and not one of them worth a good god damn. Not even the sheriff’s deputy made a move. I was on my own.
“No, Stan, that won’t do it,” I said.
“Then let’s try this.” He let go of Renee’s neck, reached a hand behind his back, and came up with a.40 Beretta. He made a show of thumbing off the safety. He released Renee’s arm and she melted to her knees. He racked the Beretta, then got down beside her. He grabbed a fist of her hair and yanked it hard. When she reflexively opened her mouth to scream, he forced the Beretta’s barrel between her lips and teeth. Her eyes were wide with terror and the crotch of her jeans turned dark with urine. “How about now, faggot?”
“That’s it, motherfucker! I’m gonna fuckin’ kill you. Let her go!”
“Not yet, cunt. Not until I see you step out there.” He nodded to the place in the center of the chapel where we shot. “Get out there and stand ready. Then I’ll let her go.”
“Give me the fucking Python,” I screamed at the deputy.
“Here,” he said, handing me the Colt. “It’s fully loaded.”
“Good.” I wasn’t going to let Stan go with just one shot. No, once I knocked him over with the first shot, I was going to punish him. I was going to walk up close to him and empty the other five bullets into his vest. He wasn’t going to have one or two broken ribs, but a chest full of them. Then, when the Python was empty, I’d kick his teeth down his throat. “Where’s my vest? Get me a fucking vest.”
“No vests!” Stan barked. “Let’s see if you got any real balls in your shorts for doing anything but sticking your cock in this bitch.” He yanked her hair again.
“But-”
“No buts. We both know the rules. One of us walks out of here. The other one gets buried out there in the
