Twisted Endings 2: 5 Acts of Vengeance Page 3

  “We’re not gonna talk about it.”

  “I still have nightmares,” Joe said. “I can’t sleep.”

  Tom threw back another Jager-Bomb. “So get a nightlight.”

  “Those people didn’t deserve to die.”

  Tom stood up and banged his fist on the counter. His face was blood red. “We’re not going to talk about this! Not here! Not now! Not ever!”

  Joe sat back and turned his head away. Tom could pretend it never happened. But it did happen. And the nightmares would never stop.

  “Look, man,” Tom said, sitting back down slowly, “forget about that.” He smiled. “You remember when we were kids? That one summer when we found that porn magazine in your neighbor’s yard, underneath the bushes?”

  Joe couldn’t help but laugh. “Mr. and Mrs. Thompson. They were some mean neighbors. Yeah, I remember. Best day of our lives.”

  “That’s right! We named every one of the women in that magazine. I was in love with Miss Big Boobs!”

  “Ha! I loved them all! I wish we still had that magazine.”

  Tom smirked. “I do.”

  “What? No you don’t.”

  “Mr. Jones didn’t need it. I probably saved his marriage.”

  Joe shook his head. “You seriously still have it?”

  “I make love to Miss Big Boobs every night!”

  Joe choked. “Thank you, Tom. You’re crazy but you’ve always stood by my side.” He put a hand on Tom’s shoulder. “You saved my life that day in the desert. I can never repay you.”

  Tom looked Joe square in the eyes. “I’m no hero. You’re the one with the Purple Heart.”

  Joe got that Purple Heart when he took a bullet in the back. No one could ever take it away from him. He belonged in a special club of men and women who fought their damnedest and could prove it. He nodded at Tom.

  Tom slapped him on the face, and shouted to the bartender, “Another drink for my brother!”

  The bartender shook his head.

  “Bartender!” Tom shouted. “Fill me up!”

  The bartender leaned over the counter. “Sorry, guys. I think you’ve had enough tonight. Let me call you a cab.”

  Tom grabbed the bartender’s shirt collar with his right hand and yanked the man across the counter. “Look, pal,” he said, his face less than an inch from the bartender’s, “I want another drink and you’re gonna get it. Understand?” He reached behind his back, pulled out a butterfly knife, fanned it, then drove its blade into the counter next to the bartender’s face.

  “You’re a maniac!” The bartender tried to swing his arms.

  To Joe, the event played out in slow motion. There was no doubt now that Tom hadn’t forgotten Mahmoudiyah. They had to get out of here before Tom exploded. He strained to read his watch. Two hours had passed since they got here. “Tom, forget it.”

  Tom gave him a sideways glance then smiled. “Yes Sir.” He shoved the bartender back behind the counter and yanked his knife out of it. “This place is crap.”

  Joe let Tom lean on his shoulder as they walked out the bar. Tom was smashed. No balance. His words were slurred. And he wasn’t funny anymore.

  Joe felt queasy. The world was blurry. But he was fine. He could still think straight. A little alcohol never hurt anybody. Everything would be fine.

  JOE PULLED into the Burtson Hotel half an hour later. It was a lavish place, meant for the upper class and people with money to blow. Myra would love to stay at a place like this, with fancy artwork and fountains in the lounge.

  Tom’s eyes were half open and a crazy smile was plastered to his face.

  “Let me help you to your room,” Joe said.

  “You’re such a good friend. Always there when I need you.”

  Joe scooped his friend out of the car, and half carried him into the hotel. The noise was ear-splitting.

  rat-a-tat-tat!

  boom!boom!boom!

  whirrr.....

  “My god! It’s after 7 PM. Are they serious?” It sounded like a war zone.

  “We’re sorry, Mr. Penn,” a voice cried out. Joe looked ahead to see the front desk clerk staring at Tom like a piece of candy. “They expect to be done in about 30 minutes.”

  Joe felt a screaming headache. He hated to leave Tom here tonight, but Myra would never let him stay at their place in his current condition. “What room are you in again?” he asked Tom.

  “Um, 21. Or 12. Wait, wait. Maybe it’s 13. 13 is a lucky number.”

  “Give me your key, Tom.”

  Tom fished in his right jeans pocket for more than 30 seconds before pulling out a keycard in a paper sleeve. The number 26 was printed on the sleeve.

  “Come on, buddy.” He led Tom to the elevator then straight to his room. The hall was lined with tools and ladders. A security camera dangled from the wall. “Call me if you need anything. I’ll catch up with you in the afternoon.”

  “Okay. You’re the best friend in the whole wide world.”

  Joe turned when two figures exited the elevator down the hall and walked in their direction. A black man and woman were all over each other. The woman was beautiful, scantily clad in a red dress with her double D chest heaving out. She was definitely a hooker.

  He laughed and slid Tom’s keycard into the hole. The man and woman stopped at the room across from them. The man slammed her body against the wall and ran his mouth over her neck.

  Tom stared at them and shouted, “Yeah!”

  The man turned and snickered at them.

  The room spun.

  Joe felt the need to vomit. It wasn’t his imagination. This was the man. The panhandler he had seen at the intersection. And the woman was the same hooker he had seen last night. He knew it!

  The man and the hooker disappeared into the room, slobbering all over each other.

  “Tom…”

  “I saw it. You were right. Son of a — ”

  Someone has to teach this man a lesson, Joe thought. They hadn’t spent two years fighting in Iraq so some idiot could pretend to be a veteran, homeless, and then swindle people out of their money just to live a life of luxury with whores.

  What a disgrace!

  rat-a-tat-tat!

  boom!boom!boom!

  whirrr.....

  Joe felt a surge of adrenaline. He kicked the man’s door open before it latched onto the lock. Tom was right behind him.

  “What the hell?” the woman screamed when they barged into the room. She was lying on top of the man, half naked.

  Tom yanked her off the man and shoved her against the wall. “Stupid whore. Shut up!”

  She swung her arms at him, but he blocked her and let her taste his fist. Blood splattered against the wall when her bottom lip busted open.

  “Let her go!” the man shouted. “I’ll kill you!” He shot straight up and swung his fists.

  Joe blocked the blows, and knocked the bum down with a left hook. He was twice the man’s shriveled size. “Don’t move! I’ll break every bone in your body!”

  The man’s eyes and nostrils flared.

  “You dishonor the men who make this country great! You’re the scum of the Earth!”

  “Please leave us alone,” the woman begged. "Take whatever you want." She started weeping.

  “I want my damn dollar back!”

  Tom turned and directed his attention to Joe. “You know what we should do? We should mess him up. I mean, REALLY mess him up.”

  Joe took a deep breath and waited for his heart to stop racing. What were they doing? They had taken this far enough. Probably scared the crap out of this man. He would never make the same mistake again. It was time to go. “Tom…”

  The woman turned to face Tom when he wasn’t paying attention and kneed him in the nuts. He crouched and screamed, “Bitch!”

  She ran to the man on the floor. “Albert, what is this? Who are these people?” The man mouthed the words ‘your purse’ to her. She nodded, reached for her purse on the desk, snatched something out of it, and
pointed it at Joe.

  Joe knew he was about to die. The hooker was sure to have a gun for protection. He watched as Tom stood back up, and reached for something behind his back. He raced up behind the woman, wrapped an arm around her neck in a choke hold, and fanned his butterfly knife.

  “No!” Albert shouted.

  rat-a-tat-tat!

  boom!boom!boom!

  whirrr.....

  Tom jammed the blade into her back.

  Her face turned blood red. She looked over at Albert, mouthed “I love you” then sank to the floor, motionless.

  “Velma!” Albert ran to her and hovered over her body, weeping.

  Tom stood back, blood dripping from the blade in his hand.

  Joe couldn’t move. This wasn’t supposed to happen. He and Tom were supposed to come in here, talk some sense into the man, and maybe rough him up.

  “I had to do it,” Tom said, wiping the bloody blade on his shirt sleeve. “We did the right thing.”

  “Not like this,” Joe said. “What the hell did you do? We’ll never get out of this. I’ve got a wife. A baby on the way. This can’t be happening.”

  “She was gonna kill you! I saved your ass! Again!”

  There had to be a way out of this. Joe looked down at Albert weeping over the whore. That’s when he saw the black object Velma had been pointing at him. It was a wallet. She was going to pay them to leave. Tom saw it, too.

  “We’re in this together, Joe. You’re supposed to be there for me, man.”

  Albert jumped up from the floor behind Tom, grabbed a lamp, yanked it off the bedside desk, and smashed it into the side of Tom’s head.

  Tom dropped to the floor, unconscious, maybe dead.

  Joe stared at him. His heart raced again. This couldn’t be happening. This was supposed to be a simple conversation with Albert.

  The panhandler.

  The animal.

  “You’re gonna burn in hell.” Albert reached down and grabbed the blade Tom had been carrying, then lunged for Joe with the blade aimed at his chest.

  rat-a-tat-tat!

  boom!boom!boom!

  whirrr.....

  Joe sidestepped the blade, and swiveled around Albert’s body. He grabbed the arm with the blade from behind, and drove the blade into the panhandler’s chest.

  “Oh God, no.” Joe took two steps back and stumbled over Velma’s body. Her dead eyes stared up at him with hatred. He wanted to tell her that he was sorry. It had all happened so fast that he had no way to stop it.

  The room shook when Albert’s lifeless body crashed on the floor.

  Joe backed up against the wall. He looked around at the three bodies lying on the floor. He ran a hand through his hair, and tried to think. He tried to reason. The blade was in Albert’s chest with his hand wrapped firmly around it. Velma had been stabbed in the back. A clear case of murder-suicide. He could drag Tom’s body across the hall to his own room. And then…and then…and then what?

  And then he wept.

  He looked up and saw movement from the man he knew so well. “Tom! You’re alive!” His friend, his brother, began to stir. Joe rushed over and helped him to his feet.

  “Yeah.” Tom flinched when he touched the side of his head. His eyes were unsteady. He couldn’t balance himself. “I’ve got one hell of a headache.” He looked at Velma and Albert’s lifeless forms. “Just leave me, man. You’ve got a wife. I’ll take care of this.”

  “Shut up. I’m not leaving you behind.”

  Tom looked at him and nodded. “Then you know what we have to do.”

  Joe didn’t know.

  “Remember Mahmoudiyah?”

  Joe would always remember that terrible day in the rural city of Iraq. They had raided a village to flush out Sunni Insurgents. An innocent 14-year-old girl and her family had died right in front of them. To cover it up, they set the bodies on fire and blamed it on the insurgents.

  “Burn it,” Tom said.

  “I’m not doing this. Not again.”

  Tom reached for the whore’s purse and shuffled through it. He stopped and stared at something in his hand.

  Joe could see that it was shiny. Metal.

  Tom shoved it back into the purse and pulled out a lighter. He faced Joe. “Go wait outside.”

  “Tom…”

  “Go! That’s an order.”

  “There’s got to be a better way...”

  Tom stepped up and shoved Joe. “Get out of here! It’s the only way! Let me do this!”

  He knew Tom was right. This was all an accident. Just like Mahmoudiyah. It was no one’s fault. He hesitated, then nodded and headed for the door. “I’ll be waiting for you.”

  Tom nodded back.

  Joe stepped out and closed the door. He looked at Albert’s door for a minute and shook his head. Tonight was a disaster. But Albert was a bad person. He didn’t deserve to die. But he didn’t deserve to live the life he was living. The world would be a better place without men like him.

  He got on the elevator and held his breath. He knew he would never sleep again. He needed to see a doctor. He had to tell someone.

  He entered the lobby and raced for the exit.

  The desk clerk said, “Have a good night. I hope Albert didn’t bother you.”

  “What’s that?” Joe asked.

  “The man across from Tom’s room. My boss has a soft spot for him. They grew up together. Gives him a room free of charge for the weekend once a year for his service to the country.”

  “Excuse me?” Joe said.

  “He got a purple heart over in Afghanistan. His wife flashes it every time I see her. Proudest woman I know.” He chuckled. “Most people think he’s crazy, but he got shot in the head saving some people. He hasn’t been the same since. Can’t support himself.” He stopped and shook his head. “I’ve seen him on the streets asking for money.”

  Joe couldn’t breathe. It wasn’t possible. That’s what Tom had found in the purse. The Purple Heart. Joe had to get out of here. The man needed to shut up.

  “His wife won’t leave him, though. She loves him more than anything. She dresses all sexy for this weekend and they go away at it. Sorry if you had to see that.” His eyes got wide and he smiled. “She really is a nice person. Baked me a cake for my birthday.”

  Joe bent and retched. He didn’t know how to live his life from this point forward. He would never forgive himself. He couldn’t stop shaking. He stood back up and said, “We need more men like Albert.”

  Feels Like Family

  FAMOUS DAYTIME actress Debra Chandler stared at the house of the woman who claimed to be her mother and wiped her sweaty palms on her three-quarter-sleeve printed dress. It was a modest concrete home. Maybe two bedrooms.

  “We should have contacted the detective first,” her husband Jason said. He had accompanied her on four trips like this one. He was here for her protection—physical and emotional. All of the women who said they were her mother had been phonies. He shook his head.

  She knew he was right, but her heart had to know the truth. She was tired of living life like a soap opera. She had spent 17 years searching for her mother. She was abandoned at a fire station at 3 days old. She had to know why. The woman inside claimed to have the answers.

  Debra knocked on the door. She held her breath. It had taken more than a million ‘likes’ and ‘shares’ from her fans on social media websites to reach this point. She wouldn’t be here without their support.

  A large man her age opened the door. His body filled the doorway. “Yeah?”

  She hesitated. Maybe this was a bad idea.

  Jason touched her shoulder and nodded.

  She knew what he had done to the other women who falsely claimed to be her mother. It was horrible. It couldn’t happen again.

  “Is this the home of Denise Jacobs?” she asked.

  “Who’s asking?” the man said.

  “My name is Debra. I think Denise Jacobs is my mother.”

  He stared at her for a mo
ment then turned his head. “Ma! The woman the detective told us about is here!”

  “I don’t want to see her!”

  Debra’s heart stopped. She couldn’t move. Could that be the voice of her mother? And could her mother really not want to see her?

  The man sighed and shook his head. He bit his lower lip. “I’m sorry.” He stepped out and closed the door behind him. “Let’s talk outside for a minute.”

  Debra looked at Jason and shrugged. She could see the look in his eyes that said, “I told you so.”

  “My name’s John,” the large man said. “If all of this is true, then I’m your brother.” He held a hand out.

  Debra shook it. It was calloused and dirty. Could this man be her brother? She had no idea what to say to him.

  “That’s a nice dress,” he said. “We don’t exactly come from the same part of the world.” He motioned to his jeans and tee-shirt. He looked over at Jason and nodded.

  “You’re the lucky one,” John continued. He stared at his hands. “It’s been hard here.”

  “I’m so sorry. I’ll do whatever I can to help.” If he did prove to be her brother, she would make sure his life was no longer hard. But first she needed to see her birth mother and get some answers.

  “Mom’s not doing too good.” John leaned against the concrete wall. “A couple of years ago she started getting bad headaches. We went to every doctor.” He paused. “She’s got a brain tumor.”

  Debra couldn’t move. She had just found her mother. Maybe. She couldn’t lose her. “How bad is it?”

  “She’s not the person she used to be. She doesn’t know who she is or even where she is half the time. She screams and says horrible things.” He ran a hand through his hair. “She can’t walk. She’s only going to be here for a few more months. That’s why she started looking for you.”

  Jason tapped Debra on the shoulder and shook his head. They both knew what was coming next.