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The gunshot nearly took his leg off. The second shot hit just inches above his head. The old man was reloading when Curt tried his best to get out of the room with his bag. He got no further than the linen closet when he was fired upon again. These people were insane.
The buckshot hit him in his ass. Christ almighty, he felt like they’d set his ass aflame. Holding his ass and his bag, he slipped twice in the kitchen trying to get away when he was shot a third time. This one hit him in the back of his legs, as well as his ass again.
Running and limping, he was out the door when he realized that at some point he’d dropped his bag. Turning back to get it, he heard the snap of the gun being loaded again. Heard the man scream at someone named Betsy to call the police for him. Turning around again, he decided that there was nothing worth what it was going to cost him to get someone to dig the buckshot out of his ass.
Limping back to his hotel, he was stopped by the hotel manager. He didn’t have time for this shit and told him that. As he was turning to leave him standing there, the man started screaming. Whatever he saw around his buttocks area, it was making the manager green with sickness. Curt ran up to his room as best he could with all the pain taking his breath away.
Turning on the bathtub faucets, Curt stripped off his clothing. He needed to cool his ass off right now. Sitting down in the almost cold water, he cried out when it felt like he was being shot up again. Where the hell had that old man gotten that shotgun?
Sitting in the now pink water, he thought about what he’d just failed at. No goods to trade off. No cash to put anything down on the sure thing he’d seen at the racetrack listings. And nothing at all to get his butt cleaned out and stitched together. They were going to have to stitch him up, Curt just knew it. Because as badly as he hurt right now, he was sure that it was going to take major surgery to get himself better.
“I’m going to sue them bastards.” Curt was starting to feel better now, so he made plans. “I don’t know how long that’ll take, but someone will surely put me up when they figure out how I’m going to get millions.”
The longer he sat there in the reddening water, the more extravagant his plans got. By the time someone was pounding at his door, he had a mansion, a limo driver, as well as sixteen brides to help him ease his nights away.
Getting out of the tub, he could feel each little cut again. Yanking the door open, he was greeted by not just the manager of the hotel, but the police too. He asked him what he could do for them.
“There’s blood leading up to this room.” Curt told the cop that he didn’t know what he might be talking about. “There is also a great deal of blood on your legs, and the towel that you have is nearly soaked with it.”
“I cut myself shaving.” The cop cocked his brow at him. “Yes, I cut myself shaving. I bet you’ve never done anything like that before.”
“We also have a description of a man that broke into the Manning home. You fit the description to a tee, including the buckshot you currently have in your ass.” Curt told him that he didn’t know what he was talking about. “We’re going to match your DNA with the evidence that you left behind when you ran slipping and sliding in your own blood trying to get away from Mr. Manning.”
“Yeah? I still don’t know what you’re talking about. I’m busy now, so I’m going to close the door and leave you to whatever you have.” The cop put up his hand just as he was trying to close the door. “I didn’t invite you in. Get the hell out of my room.”
“He’s also not paid anything on his bill, Officer. He keeps telling me that his children are going to pay it. But Lord Bryson said that he wanted nothing to do with this man. And Lady Blaze, she said that she isn’t paying either.” The cop asked if Bryson was the man who had married Blaze. “Yes, that’s him. What a nice man he is too. Very generous.”
“He’s not fucking generous to me, and I’m his old man.” The cop told him to shut his trap. “I will not. Why does my son get to be lord this and that when I’m told to shut my trap? That’s not right at all.”
“Why don’t you go and clean up yourself so I can run you downtown to ask you a few questions? Oh, and by the way. I have no desire to have your naked ass anywhere near my nice clean cruiser.” Curt just stared at the man. “Go on now. You don’t want your hiney sweat to make you stick to it like it was a hot summer day, or to those cheap plastic chairs. Especially your balls. Damn, but that would hurt.”
“I’m much too busy to be traveling downtown. Why don’t you ask me your questions now? That way I can have my dinner and get to bed. It’s been a very long day.” Curt could feel the blood as it ran down his legs. Glancing down to see what the officer was looking at, he realized that he was standing in a puddle of his own blood. “I should be more careful when I shave, don’t you think?”
“I think I’m going to have to insist that you come with me, Mr. Williams.” Curt started to shake his head and started to get lightheaded. “Sir, are you all right?”
“No. No, I don’t think I am. Just a little rest and some ice to put on my balls. Nothing too bad.” Gripping the door tighter, Curt thought that he could easily puke on himself. “You toddle on away and I’ll get things taken care of here.”
“Your balls are going to fall off.” Curt asked him what he said. “I said that your balls are up and around your neck. You should really get them down where they belong before you shit yourself.”
“What are you talking about?” The cop looked at the manager, then back at him. “You’re speaking gibberish, and I think that’s just mean. Go away.”
“I’m going to take you to the bathhouse and then strip you down to your bones.” Curt held his head while the cop kept talking about how he was going to make a meal out of him. “Sir, you have to come with your Santa.”
“You’ve made me sick. I just know it.” Falling to his knees, he felt the bite of all the places on his ass that had been shot. “I think that I need to lay down for a while.” The next thing Curt saw was someone standing over him. “My goodness, you sure are tall. What are you, a giant man? Do you have to climb your beanstalk every night after work?”
Giggling at his own joke, he heard the man over him speak. Curt wasn’t sure, but he thought that he was telling him that he was going to kick his ass. Something like that. Curt told him that he wasn’t in the mood to fist fight him today. His ass hurt.
“I’m sure that it does.” He felt sick all of a sudden when the angel told him to lie still. “I’m going to give you something, Curt. You hold onto it, and I promise you that you’ll live forever.”
“I think that old man killed me. He had a shotgun.” There was a question or two asked of him, but he couldn’t understand it. “Jesus, I think that you need to speak English to me. I can’t understand angel talk.”
“You’re off your rocker.” He didn’t think that was any way for Jesus to talk to someone, and told him that. “Jesus? I don’t think that anyone has ever called me that before. Thanks, buddy. Okay, I’m going to give you something for pain, then we’re going to put you in the ambulance.”
Curt was still having a hard time understanding the man. First he was tall, then he was shorter. Twice he’d been dressed in white, then he was that policeman again. Closing his eyes, his balls began to feel less like someone had them in their grip tight enough to make him shit himself. Feelings that he’d only gotten, he realized, when he was high.
“I need to get me some of this shit. My dealer, he never sells me shit this good.” Someone, Jesus or the cop, asked him what his dealer’s name was. “Jesus smokes weed? Well, hallelujah. I guess a man in your business needs to be able to chill out once in a while. It must be a real bitch trying to make the world a better place. You just give everyone pot and I tell you, they’ll all be too stoned to be pissed off about anything.”
The bump, or whatever it was, shook him out of his nice buzz for a moment. Then there were loud noises and flashing lights. At some point someone touched his balls and Curt screamed, but after that, he didn’t have any more pain. At least nothing like he’d had at the house.
