“What the fuck, man?” Thing Two groaned, wincing. “What’s your malfunction?”
Thing One poked him in his scrawny chest. “You’re my malfunction, you dumb sonofabitch!” Spittle flew from his mouth, landing amongst the stain on Thing Two’s dirty wife beater. “This is my mother’s house, and if she sees it like this, she’s gonna kill me. And if she kills me, I’ll come back from the fucking grave and skin you alive.”
Thing Two scowled at him. “Dude, maybe if you took half the effort to go for a fucking walk every once in a while you wouldn’t have a goddamn heart attack making a bowl of cereal,” he said, chuckling. “And you need to back the fuck up. Your breath is fuckin’ nasty. Whisky already?” he scoffed, shaking his head.
Thing One looked like his head was about to burst, his eyes wide, teeth gritted, but he said nothing. He had no time to.
Thing Two continued, manic from the coke he’d snorted not ten minutes before. He failed to see the irony. “It’s ten in the goddamn morning and you’re fuckin’ drinking whiskey like a fuckin’ alky. That’s probably why you can’t remember that your mama’s been here exactly two times in the last fifteen years and she’s on a fast track to goddamn dementia.” He scoffed, turning away from Thing Two. “I think we’ll be alright.”
Thing One glared at him, sweat beading on his brow line, the veins in his neck bulging. He quickly snatched up his much smaller counterpart by the neck, yanking him up from the shitty sofa, and snatched a pistol from a holster in his waistband, shoving the cold steel into Thing One’s temple.
Thing Two’s bravado quickly drained, his face going ashen. “What the f—”
Thing One smacked him upside the head with the barrel. “Listen to me, you meth-mouthed piece of worthless shit. You’ll keep my mother’s name out of your fuckin’ mouth, you hear me?”
“I didn’t say her name,” Thing Two whined, and he caught the end of the barrel again. He hugged himself, whimpering.
“Clean this house while I’m gone, or your brains end up as just another fuckin’ stain on that wall. If you want to live to get your next paycheck, to get your next hit, you’ll do as I say, you hear me?”
Thing Two didn’t even take a second to hesitate before he nodded his head. “Okay, okay, dude. Chill the fuck out. C’mon.”
Thing One pressed the gun just a little harder into the man’s scabby cheek, bringing out another pathetic whimper, before returning the gun to its holster. He stared coldly at Thing Two, his broad shoulders heaving up and down with each heavy breath, and then turned and walked toward the door.
He glanced back momentarily, his hand on the door handle, and he barked, “You keep away from them girls, motherfucker! I’m not kidding. The bosses wanna keep that new girl relatively clean for the members.”
“What about the other ones?” Thing Two asked, his brows high, his tone hopeful.
Thing One narrowed his eyes at the rail thin meth-head on the couch. “Don’t fuckin’ touch ’em, Terry. You got a house to clean.”
Thing Two held up his hands in surrender. “Alright, alright, fine.”
Thing One stared long and hard at the man before he made his way outside, slamming the squeaky door closed behind him. He scowled at some Lululemon bitch walking her dog as he dug the keys out of his pocket. She hurried on, and then he stopped, tilted his head, and watched her tight ass walk away. He bit his bottom lip, shook his head, and continued on to the beat-up van.
Thing Two made sure to watch him leave through the cracks of the tattered blinds, and once the van pulled out of the driveway and drove off, he yelled, “Fuck you!”
He smiled wickedly, a dark change in his eyes as he turned back toward the living room, eyes finding the door that led to the basement . . . to satisfaction . . . to control.
He knew he had a few hours to play. Thing One had business with their bosses and that was never a quick ordeal. Plenty of time to have his way with a few of them.
Everyone held their breath in The Cell. The silence was jarring. Orion could hear her own pulse rattling between her ears as she watched Jaclyn standing on Shelby’s back, with a hand cupping her ear against the ceiling. Shelby, being The Cell’s newest tenant, still had innocence in her eyes. She still had her youth. And, of course, the fear. But she was bigger than Patricia had been, and much bigger than Allison was, so she made for a good base. No matter that Orion had to pretty much threaten violence if she didn’t participate.
Jaclyn’s forehead crinkled as she focused hard on the sounds, the silence. Waiting for a cue. The sound panels and concrete kept their screams in, but they still let some sounds through: heavy footsteps, doors closing . . . they even heard a crash once.