Frank’s
text message said Hide.
I rushed around the room, picking up anything that obviously didn’t
belong to Frank: candy wrappers and my blue sneakers and the tuft of
blond hair I’d have to kill him for tearing out of my head this
morning. If I was being forced to hide that meant company, and
there was only one person it could be: Charlie.
Then
I remembered that not only did Frank never eat candy, wear blue
sneakers, or have white blond hair, he also wouldn’t throw his
clothes around the room like he was trying to reupholster the
furniture in black Armani. I did another quick sweep of our
hotel, tossed my dirty clothes into Frank’s duffel bag, took the
deadbolt off the door, and crawled under the bed to wait.
For
an hour.
By
the time I heard them at the door I had perfected my plot of revenge
on Frank for making me miss As
the World Turns.
I would leap out from under the bed with no clothes on, thereby
causing Charlie to die of shock on the spot. Then I would grab
the gun from under Frank’s pillow and shoot him in the upper arm
where it would cause more inconvenience than injury. He’d
naturally be so upset about the old man’s well deserved demise that
he wouldn’t even think to punish me for shooting him.
The
sound of Charlie’s voice dragged me kicking and screaming from my
fantasy when I remembered that as much as I would love to murder him
with my nude glory, I didn’t actually want to be in the same room
with the man, much less have him ever see me naked. “This
place is a dump, kiddo,” Charlie laughed.
I
scowled at his ankles. As if I hadn’t just spent five whole
minutes tidying up the place. It was
a dump, but a man who couldn’t even match his socks had no say in
quality.
“It
serves its purpose,” Frank said. “Was there anything else?”
“Let
me know when you want to do this thing. I can—”
“I
don’t need your help, Charlie.”
“You
expect to just walk away from it?”
Walk
away from what?
I took a deep breath, my heart starting to pound. Frank stepped
closer to the bed, as if to silently reassure me. “I’ll
manage, Charlie. I always do.”
“If
you say so. Call me as soon as it’s finished. I’d
hate to leave you stranded on the side of the road somewhere.”
“Will
do,” Frank said. I knew he would be moping at that comment.
Charlie may have been his father figure, but that didn’t mean
Frank needed to be babied. And besides, if he did
need help, I’d
be there for him. “I’ll drive you back.”
Drive
him back? That explained why I hadn’t heard Charlie’s beast
of a car. But why come to our hotel just to complain about the
decor? I waited several minutes after they left before crawling
out from under the bed. There was a set of car keys on the bed
near where Frank had been standing, along with an envelope full of
money and a photograph. The keys were for a Buick, and probably
and ancient one at that. I couldn’t imagine a Buick driver
being worth a hundred thousand dollars dead, and even if he were,
Frank wouldn’t have his car keys.
I
pulled some pants on and looked out the peephole just in case they
were hanging out in the parking lot. There was the white Buick
parked in front of our hotel room, but Frank and Charlie were nowhere
to be seen. I went outside with the key. The car wasn’t
particularly pleasing to the eye and it smelled like mothballs
inside, but it seemed to be in good working order when I started it.
Old lady car. Very low miles. The pink slip was in the
glove compartment, along with a prayer card. I went back
inside.
Charlie
had offered to help. He was concerned about Frank being
stranded on the side of the road. I counted our money.
Four grand short. So we’d paid for the car. The
weapon.
“Vehicular homicide,” I said to myself. The drunk who’d
killed my parents was charged with that. Two counts. I
set down the keys and turned on the TV. As
the World Turns was
still on. Maybe it hadn’t been as long of a wait as I
thought. I wasn’t known for my patience.
Frank
came home with a cheeseburger and French fries and a chocolate
milkshake the size of my head. I eagerly dug in, asking between
bites, “Are you bringing me a peace offering because you expect me
to be upset, or because I’m not going to get to do this hit?”
“You
figured it out then?”
“Have
you done this sort of hit before?”
“Yes.”
“Why
didn’t you mention it?”
“That
I’ve killed someone the same way your parents died?”
“You’ve
killed a lot of people a lot of ways, Frank. And besides, it’s
not
the same way. You’ll be in control of the car, not drunk.
And you were paid to do it.”
He
sat next to me on the bed, stealing one of my fries when it became
apparent I wasn’t upset enough to bite. “I’ll need you to
follow me in our car. The Buick probably won’t be drivable
when we’re finished.”
“Is
this why you made me learn to drive? For hits like this?”
“No,
I made you learn to drive because you love cars and I knew you would
enjoy it.”
“Not
all
cars. And Charlie got ripped off if he spent four thousand
dollars on that old thing.”
“Charlie
is not the one who
got ripped off.” He gave me a kiss, but I suspected he was
really after my ice cream. “Do you think the car’s okay?
It looks like a piece of junk.”
“What’s
the mark driving?”
“A
Corvette.”
I
laughed. “If you can actually catch it in that old Buick, the
‘vette’s toast.”
Frank
raised his eyebrows. “Really?”
“Yeah.
The Buick’s a boat. Nice and heavy. You’ll be all
right.”
“Hmm.
That’s good to know.”
Charlie
had probably told him the exact same thing, but Frank believed me.
I smiled to myself as I looked over the photo of the Corvette
driver. He was a walking mid-life crisis; earring, sports car,
a leathery tan and highlighted hair. He had the same cheesy
smile as a lawyer I used to live with who liked to smack me in the
face with his cock.
“Are
you going to be okay with this job? It might be difficult to
watch.”
Teeth
meet dashboard. I handed him his new car keys. “I’ll
manage.”
Guy’s
night out was at a three story mansion turned brothel in the middle
of nowhere. There was a forty mile stretch of road to get
there, which Mr. Corvette took at a speed that reflected his
eagerness on the way there, and his satisfaction on the way home.
We’d get him on the way back when he was slower.
I
sat in Frank’s BMW, waiting on the shoulder with my headlights
off. Frank was fifteen miles up the road doing the same thing
in the Buick. As soon as I heard the Corvette’s engine
rumbling through the night I called Frank and started the car.
Our
mark came tearing up the road and I peeled out behind him, keeping my
distance with my lights off. I was going forty so the mark had
to be going at least fifty-five, and I switched on cruise control,
tucking back my feet so I wouldn’t instinctively slam on the breaks
when he slammed into Frank. We couldn’t risk skid marks from
a third vehicle and have the cops out looking for witnesses to the
accident.
The
Corvette flew past the mile marker and I turned on my headlights,
flashing my high beams and honking my horn to get his attention.
The darkened back of the Buick suddenly came into view and he braked
hard, swerving to the other lane to avoid hitting it. Frank
swerved along with him and I switched off my lights so I wouldn’t
see it, my whole body clenching as I braced for impact.
The
sound was horrific, like the death cry of a huge metal monster.
With all the accidents we’d caused during my driver’s education
classes, it never sounded like that. I turned my headlights
back on just in time to see Frank stepping out of the car, no blood
on his face and only metaphorical blood on his hands. I slowed to a
stop beside the wreckage and ran to him, reigning myself in so I
wouldn’t jump in his arms and kiss him all over. He set his
hand on my shoulder, but I didn’t know whether it was to steady me
or him. “Are you okay?”
“I
am fine. Is he dead?”
I
bit my lip and turned back to the Corvette. I’d run right
past him to get to Frank, but I was right about the ‘vette being
toast. It looked like a snake that tried to swallow larger prey
and choked on it, the front torn open around the rear of the Buick.
I’d disabled his airbag while he was inside playing with Vietnamese
youth, and the mark’s forehead was caved in from the steering
wheel, blood pouring out his ears, nose, and mouth. His smile
was no longer cheesy. It wasn’t there at all. I glanced
back at Frank to make sure it was okay before gently resting my
fingers against his neck. “He still has a pulse.”
Frank was already getting the gas can from the trunk of the BMW. He
was walking a little slower than usual, but he seemed to be all
right. I turned back to our mark, realizing that he was staring
right at me. “He’s awake.”
Frank
came up beside me, affectionately resting his hand on my ass and
peering into the car.
“What
should I do?”
He
shrugged, which looked like it hurt. “Break his neck.”
I
hesitated, not actually sure how
to break someone’s neck. “Just...twist?”
Frank
smiled and said, “Sometimes I forget that you’re new at
this.” He held my hand and guided it from our mark’s pulse
to his jaw, turning his head to the side. Then he took my other
hand in his and gripped our mark’s shoulder, pulling him slightly
forward away from his seat. The guy watched us the whole time,
his eyes glassy and his pupils slightly different sizes. “Push
hard and fast.”
“Hard
and fast,” I repeated with a slight grin. “Just how I like
it.”
He
rolled his eyes. “Push.”
“Urrrrrr,”
the guy mumbled. I shoved his head while Frank yanked his
opposite shoulder, then POP and he stopped mumbling.
“There
you are then.” Frank poured some gasoline on the grass, then
splashed it up the side of the Buick.
“Can
I light it?”
“You
can throw a match from the car.”
I
followed him back to the BMW, keeping an eye on him just in case he
wasn't fit to drive after crashing the other car. Then of course I
tripped on my shoelace and skinned my poor little knee.
Frank
smirked and held open the passenger side door for me. “I've taught
you to murder, shall I teach you how to walk?”
I
rolled my eyes as I got in the car, unrolling the window and grabbing
the book of matches. “You have to kiss it better.”
“As
soon as we stop,” he said, as if he knew ahead of time that my knee
was just the beginning and he didn't have time to really
kiss it better.
He
drove close to the car and I lit a match, practically bouncing with
excitement when I tossed it out the window, eager to watch a fireball
the size of and atom bomb explode as we drove into the sunrise. But
the match went out before igniting everything. Frank stopped the
car, turning his face a little so I wouldn't see his smile. I lit
another one. That went out too.
“Shall
I teach you how—”
I
lit the entire book and tossed it, leaning my head out the window
while Frank drove away. “Where's the fireball?” I pouted.
“You
watch too much television. And speaking of, what happened on our
show?”
“As
the World Turns?”
He
smiled. “Yes.”
I
glared at him. “Gee, Frank, shall I teach you
how to text?”
