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Mom jumps up with the grace of a dancer, her glass not spilling a drop. “Let’s go. I’m hungry.”
As she walks out, she stops, pats Katrina on her shoulder and bends down, kisses her cheek, giving her a knowing, pitying glance. Shooting me a frown that would eliminate me if she could but doesn’t say anything.
Katrina opens her mouth to say something, I shake my head at her saying, “it’ll be okay. We’ll get through this day. Hey, how ‘bout after dinner we go and get a Christmas tree. Go up to that farm up on seventh and have it cut and bring it back. We can spend the rest of the day decorating.”
Her blue eyes brighten to sapphires with how happy I have made her with such a simple gesture. To be still young enough that decorating will be the brightest part of your day instead of jaded like I am. I’m glad I thought of it. To see her face bright with the holiday spirit.
I think of what will be happening tomorrow to the fucker who ruined her teenage years and almost her whole life. Ways of torturing him and making it last will run through my head all day.
I reach out my hand, wait for her to decide to take it. She looks to the dining room, biting her bottom lip, I assume imagining what Mom will say with us coming in holding hands. Back to me, slowly reaching out and grasps mine into hers. Her hand small and sweaty with her nerves. She chose me. If I were any other kind of man I’d be throwing my fist in the air, I’m the kind of man who holds important shit close to his chest. Like what will happen to the shit head Buddy Ross. Can’t wait.
We walk to the kitchen, finding it empty and continue to the dining room. I’d rather eat in the kitchen since it’s only the three of us, but my mother prefers to do things more elegantly. In the dining room we find everything already set up. Mom is sitting at the table, a glass of champagne in her long, elegant fingers. Her gaze out the floor to ceiling bank of windows overlooking Bay Lake.
She slowly turns her head to us, her gaze on our intertwined fingers and I wait for her to comment sarcastically. Instead she stands and goes right to the feast. “Come, come. Let’s eat. It’s getting cold while you two play around.”
I say, “sorry, Mom.”
Katrina’s soft voice is right behind mine, “sorry, Auntie Angel.”
“Well, sit.” Her tone irritated and rushed.
“Let me help.” Katrina offers, she leans over the table to take a bowl, but Mom waves her away.
“No. Sit. I’ve got it. What do you want?” Mom picks up a plate and with a raised, perfectly manicured eyebrow she waits for Katrina’s choices.
“Um. Turkey. Of course,” Kat giggles nervously. “And I don’t know. A little of everything, I guess. It all looks so good I can’t decide.”
“Breast or dark.”
“Thigh?” Her voice raises at the end, the way my mother is acting all prissy which isn’t her normal way makes Kat nervous as hell. She’s normally a take you on type of woman but I think with what we’re doing together and the fact my mother is here she’s out of her element and doesn’t know what to make of everything. I like keeping her on her toes and Mom had mentioned staying at her friend’s for the night. I think that’s a great idea. I want more play time with my play toy.
Twenty-four hours later I’m standing in the basement of a warehouse my cousin owns. It’s where he does his dirty work. Buddy Ross is tied up by chains naked, tears and snot and blood stream down his face, tiny dick shriveled to the size of a peanut. He continuously snivels about his father being a senator and how we’ll regret this. What he doesn’t seem to realize yet is he’s pissed on the wrong people. The American portion of the Italian mafia is nothing to sneeze at. We’re just as merciless and ruthless as the Italian side.
The skin on my knuckles are bruised and split from the hits I’ve given him. I mostly stay away from this part of my heritage wanting to keep my business legal and separate from this part of my family. We meet for weddings and other family functions but this is the first time I’ve become involved in something like this. I need this. I can’t have Katrina involved, I can tell her she’s been avenged. I can’t tell her how.
“Please. My dad can pay you anything you want if you let me go.” Buddy whines and wails like the baby he is. “Why are you doing this?”
I step close to him, he flinches as if he’s going to be hit again and he might. Even if I want to make this last as long as I can, I need to get back. Katrina has been alone most of the day while I’ve been here having fun. Glad I’ve kept up with my workouts in the boxing ring.
“Well, Buddy boy. You’ve been bad, assaulting women. What would your daddy senator think about that? Huh?” I roll back onto my heels, my hands in the front pockets of my slacks. I pull out my coin, tossing it in the air and running it through my fingers. A habit I have and still appearing loose and calm. I’m far from it, I don’t want to let him know it. I want him to think he can get away. That he can talk himself out of his mess.
“No. No, you’ve got it wrong. They’re lying sluts. You know what those whores are like. Want to pretend they’re getting raped but they want it. Ask for it. They like it rough. You know what I mean. Right?” He rushes through his words as if what he says is true. He believes it anyway. He probably believes all women want it that way and it’s their fault. Sack of shit that he is.
I run my tongue over my upper teeth trying to get control of myself before I kill him too soon. I want a confession. “So, they deserve it? Asked for it even. Please rape and beat me?”
“Yeah, yeah they did.” He’s nodding his head like a manic bobble head, “they wanted it rough so I just gave them what they wanted. So, we agree? You’ll let me go now right?”
I nod my head at him, letting him still have hope he’ll go free. I would like this to go on a lot longer but this has to end. “Yeah, you can go.”
He grins at me, his body sags in his chains as much as he can. He winces at the pain in his arms being held high for two days. He’s covered in piss and shit. “You can go but it’ll be in pieces and you’ll be buried where no one can ever find you.”
His eyes widen as he takes in my words and they sink in. “No. No. You said you’d let me go. We can pay you lots of money, whatever you want.”
“You can’t ever give those women back what they lost to you. Do you remember Katrina? Katrina Harris? When you were sixteen?” I grind out the words through my teeth, I take steps forward until I’m in his face, my hands around his throat. Chocking him as tight as I can without breaking his neck. That will be too easy for him.
“Sixteen? How can I remember that far back? I’m sure she was just another needy bitch. Let me go.” He rasps through the hold I have on his throat, he shakes his arms, chains rattle but he can’t get loose, trying to scream with my throttling him.
“Yeah. Well this is for her.” I grab his tiny dick and balls in one hand, a sharp knife in the other, his look of horror turns to high-pitched shrieks as I slice through both tossing them away like the useless garbage they are. “Your turn.” I turn to my cousins who each want a piece of him. They don’t like what he’s been doing and want his reign of terror to end for women throughout the country.
