watching
the living area.
Weston turned to Hayden.
“Hayden.”
The young man kept flicking
the knife, twisting it and making it dance open and swing shut in a blur.
“Hayden.”
Hayden was absorbed, looking
at a spot on the wall while the knife twirled over and over.
Weston leaned forward. “HAYDEN!”
The loud voice made Hayden
jump and the blade sliced open one of his fingers. “AAHH! What the hell,
Weston? What did you do that for?”
Hayden glared at the old man
who calmly returned the look.
“Something wrong?” Weston
asked. Hayden slowly shook his head and grabbed one of the restaurant napkins
to cover his finger. “Good. Did you order the girl some food?”
Hayden nodded. Weston turned
to Crow. “Mr. Crow, will you make sure our guest has her lunch?”
Reddish water began to spill
from the disposal as Punchy removed the plate. He watched the water pool into
the sink and slowly disappear down the drain. For a brief second, the water
returned him to the cold locker room and the drops of blood collecting in the
sink as he rinsed his bruised face off. He shook away the memory quickly and
continued his task. Punchy worked his fingers into the disposal and began to
clean the teeth.
He watched as Crow grabbed
two containers of Chinese and opened the door to the bedroom. There was a young
woman sitting on the edge of the bed, crying silently. Crow towered over her
and she looked at the floor. He sat the containers on the bed with a small pack
of utensils. As he walked from the room, the girl looked out at Punchy. She saw
him staring. Her lips moved and the handyman could barely make out what she was
saying. But he knew.
Please.
Crow closed the bedroom door
and returned to his seat on the sofa.
Punchy’s fingers gripped
something wet and solid in the disposal. He reached in and pulled out a mangled
mess of grapefruit, coffee grounds, and something else: a twisted piece of
plastic that turned out to be a driver’s license.
Punchy turned the license
around in his fingers. One half of it had been twisted up by the disposal but
the other half, the part with the picture, was readable. It belonged to a woman
and Punchy could see it wasn’t the girl in the bedroom. Where the one on the
bed had short blond hair and was college aged, the picture woman was a bit older
with long black hair and wore glasses.
Punchy could make out the
first name. Meredith. This license belonged to Meredith. She obviously was not
in the suite. So where was she? And why was her license in the disposal? Punchy
looked up to see Weston watching him.
“Everything okay, friend?”
Weston asked, his lips moving in perfect fashion.
Punchy nodded and reached
into the sink. He held up the mangled grapefruit mess. Weston nodded.
“Russell ate that shit,”
Billy quipped as he stepped back into the suite. “He screwed the damn thing
up.”
Weston nodded, still watching
Punchy. “I’m sure it was very accidental.”
What the hell is this?
Deftly Punchy slid the
license into his pocket and then threw the pulped fruit into the trash. He put
the disposal together as quickly as possible. The men began talking about
hiring a car for the afternoon, and who was going to stay at the suite. It turned
out it was Billy’s turn to hang around and the youth groused loudly about the
bum deal.
“I don’t know why we just
can’t get the money today. You said Vladimir wanted the girl pretty badly,”
Billy whined.
Weston turned to him
seething. “Shut your stupid mouth, you useless little worm.” Billy recoiled as
if slapped hard in the face. Punchy acted like he did not see or understand
this exchange. He slapped the disposal back under the sink and tightened the
fittings. Weston was looking at him again.
He flipped the switch on the
disposal and the machine churned to life. He could feel the heavy vibration
through the counter and knew it
the living area.
Weston turned to Hayden.
“Hayden.”
The young man kept flicking
the knife, twisting it and making it dance open and swing shut in a blur.
“Hayden.”
Hayden was absorbed, looking
at a spot on the wall while the knife twirled over and over.
Weston leaned forward. “HAYDEN!”
The loud voice made Hayden
jump and the blade sliced open one of his fingers. “AAHH! What the hell,
Weston? What did you do that for?”
Hayden glared at the old man
who calmly returned the look.
“Something wrong?” Weston
asked. Hayden slowly shook his head and grabbed one of the restaurant napkins
to cover his finger. “Good. Did you order the girl some food?”
Hayden nodded. Weston turned
to Crow. “Mr. Crow, will you make sure our guest has her lunch?”
Reddish water began to spill
from the disposal as Punchy removed the plate. He watched the water pool into
the sink and slowly disappear down the drain. For a brief second, the water
returned him to the cold locker room and the drops of blood collecting in the
sink as he rinsed his bruised face off. He shook away the memory quickly and
continued his task. Punchy worked his fingers into the disposal and began to
clean the teeth.
He watched as Crow grabbed
two containers of Chinese and opened the door to the bedroom. There was a young
woman sitting on the edge of the bed, crying silently. Crow towered over her
and she looked at the floor. He sat the containers on the bed with a small pack
of utensils. As he walked from the room, the girl looked out at Punchy. She saw
him staring. Her lips moved and the handyman could barely make out what she was
saying. But he knew.
Please.
Crow closed the bedroom door
and returned to his seat on the sofa.
Punchy’s fingers gripped
something wet and solid in the disposal. He reached in and pulled out a mangled
mess of grapefruit, coffee grounds, and something else: a twisted piece of
plastic that turned out to be a driver’s license.
Punchy turned the license
around in his fingers. One half of it had been twisted up by the disposal but
the other half, the part with the picture, was readable. It belonged to a woman
and Punchy could see it wasn’t the girl in the bedroom. Where the one on the
bed had short blond hair and was college aged, the picture woman was a bit older
with long black hair and wore glasses.
Punchy could make out the
first name. Meredith. This license belonged to Meredith. She obviously was not
in the suite. So where was she? And why was her license in the disposal? Punchy
looked up to see Weston watching him.
“Everything okay, friend?”
Weston asked, his lips moving in perfect fashion.
Punchy nodded and reached
into the sink. He held up the mangled grapefruit mess. Weston nodded.
“Russell ate that shit,”
Billy quipped as he stepped back into the suite. “He screwed the damn thing
up.”
Weston nodded, still watching
Punchy. “I’m sure it was very accidental.”
What the hell is this?
Deftly Punchy slid the
license into his pocket and then threw the pulped fruit into the trash. He put
the disposal together as quickly as possible. The men began talking about
hiring a car for the afternoon, and who was going to stay at the suite. It turned
out it was Billy’s turn to hang around and the youth groused loudly about the
bum deal.
“I don’t know why we just
can’t get the money today. You said Vladimir wanted the girl pretty badly,”
Billy whined.
Weston turned to him
seething. “Shut your stupid mouth, you useless little worm.” Billy recoiled as
if slapped hard in the face. Punchy acted like he did not see or understand
this exchange. He slapped the disposal back under the sink and tightened the
fittings. Weston was looking at him again.
He flipped the switch on the
disposal and the machine churned to life. He could feel the heavy vibration
through the counter and knew it
Similar Books
