Authors: Bryan Smith
“That makes no sense at all.”
Dez stepped away from the open door to her apartment and turned fully toward him. “So what if it doesn’t make any sense? I’m sexy as fuck and you’re just a dude who worships me. Everyone knows that means you’re required to agree with everything I say. It’s a universal fucking law. Now tell me your name, fat boy.”
He sighed. “I guess my name is Stu.”
Dez pouted. “You guess?”
“All right, you win, my name is Stu.”
Stu sighed again, sounding even more put-upon now, but he was smiling too. Dez couldn’t believe it, but she was actually enjoying interacting with the guy. She would sometimes tell Shandi about his pathetic, fumbling attempts to engage her, making cruel fun of his unfortunate physique and the ludicrous notion of anyone who looked like him hitting on a chick of her caliber. But Shandi wasn’t around to giggle at this latest tale of goofy guy awkwardness. Her mood spiraled abruptly as she realized three full days had elapsed since the last time she had even seen her girlfriend.
A pinched expression of concern formed on Stu’s face. “Is something wrong, Anya? You look sad.”
“Motherfucker. If you use that name again, I will hit you.”
“Sorry.”
Dez sighed. “It’s all right. Sorry I snapped at you. You’re right, I am sad. I think my girlfriend is avoiding me.”
Stu snapped his fingers. “Oh! That reminds me. I saw her over here earlier.”
Dez frowned. “Shandi was at my place tonight?”
Stu nodded. “Yeah, it was just after you left for the club. I passed her going down the stairs as I was taking out some trash. I said hi, but she didn’t even look at me. She wasn’t in your place more than a minute. She was back in her car and driving away by the time I started back up the stairs.”
“Huh. That’s weird.”
Stu shrugged. “Maybe she was in a hurry and needed something from your place.”
“Yeah. Maybe.”
Shandi had a key to her place and a few of her things—mostly clothes—were stashed here. There wasn’t necessarily anything ominous about her coming by at a time when she knew Dez would be away. And yet a vague sense of unease took root within her just the same.
Stu’s expression was sympathetic. “Uh-oh. Trouble in paradise?”
“None of your damn business.”
Stu flinched at her tone. “Sorry.”
“Oh, fucking hell.” Dez heaved a weary breath. “Guess what, Stu? Tonight’s your lucky night. I don’t feel like being alone. You want to hang out with me for a while? Get drunk, do some fucking drugs. What do you say?”
Stu’s mouth was hanging open.
“Jesus. Close your mouth. You look like a fucking retard.”
Stu closed his mouth and cleared his throat. “Sorry. It’s just that that’s pretty much the last thing I ever expected you to say to me.”
“Well, you better give me an answer now, because this is a once in a lifetime opportunity, Stu, and I’m gonna be withdrawing the invitation in about five seconds. Five, four, three—”
“Yes!”
Dez laughed at the naked desperation in his voice. Guys like Stu could be amusing to play with at times. There was an eagerness to please that reminded her of dogs and small children.
But then his expression sobered some. “Oh. But I’ve gotta remember to call in sick to work by seven at the latest.”
Dez laughed. “Shit, that’s almost three hours away. Just how long do you think you’re gonna be hanging out with me?”
“Don’t know, but ain’t no way I’m going in to work messed up on drugs. Guys get fired for that shit all the time.”
Dez was struck by how very little she knew about this man. “What exactly is it you do for a living, Stu?”
“Drive a truck for UPS.”
“Oh.”
Stu nodded. “I know. Not very exciting.”
“It really isn’t.”
Dez had never had what most people would consider a normal job. She often forgot that the rules were different in the world she inhabited. All the girls she worked with drank to excess and did at least a little blow. Hell, it was practically part of the job description. She couldn’t relate to the dreary realities of life in the regular workaday world, which of course was the big issue that always came between her and Shandi.
She gestured at her open apartment door with a tilt of her head. “Come on, tubby. Let’s get this party started.”
Once they were inside, Dez seized him by the front of his shirt, startling him as she dragged him into the living room and sat him down on the sofa. He whimpered when she dropped to her knees in front of him and reached for the zipper to his dirty jeans.
She giggled as she took the zipper tab between a thumb and forefinger. “I bet you weren’t expecting this, huh, Stu?”
“Lord, no.”
She massaged his bulge through the fabric of his underpants. “It’s like I told you, baby. Today is your lucky day.”
She tugged his underpants down and took his hardness into her mouth. The high-pitched moan this elicited thrilled her. She didn’t get with men very often and when she did it was always in situations like this. The male of the species mostly repulsed her. This had been her emphatic impression going back as far as she could remember and it was no surprise given her traumatic early upbringing. But as sexual partners they could be fun whenever there was a high potential for humiliating them in some way.
Stu hadn’t been with a woman in a very long time. The way his cock twitched within seconds of entering her mouth told her that. He was already on the very edge of orgasm.
She pulled her head back and his cock popped free with a wet plop. She frowned as she stared up at him, an expression calculated to confuse.
Then she snatched her purse off the floor, got to her feet and walked into the kitchen. She took a baggie of cocaine from the purse and began chopping lines on the table. This was an act she’d performed countless times. It was as automatic as her daily hair and makeup routines. While she did it, an amused smile tugged at her lips as she imagined the confused thoughts that must be swirling through Stu’s head.
He belatedly wandered into the kitchen as she put a straw to her nose and snorted up a thick line of blow. “Have a seat, lardbucket. Do some fucking cocaine with me.”
His expression was the expected mixture of hurt and confusion. Seeing it gave her a little thrill of excitement. A sense of power. And power over others was a thing she always enjoyed. Her private delight at Stu’s wounded feelings was at least partially a byproduct of the escalating uncertainty in her love life. It occurred to her that as things stood Shandi was the one with all the power in their relationship. She got virtually everything she wanted and what did Dez get in return?
Jack shit, that’s what.
Stu pulled a chair out from the table and sat next to her. There was a sour twist to his mouth as he eyed the lines of white powder. “I don’t know if I really want to do this. Cocaine is bad news. It killed a friend of mine.”
Dez inhaled another line. “That’s a sad fucking story, Stu, but let me ask you this—do you wanna fuck me or not?”
He gaped at her. “What?”
“You heard me. Answer the question.”
“I guess you’re saying you won’t fuck me if I don’t do a line.”
Dez laughed. “Wow, you’re a smart goobucket. You figured that out all by yourself. But you’re gonna have to do more than one line, bitch. It’s like they say—go big or go home.”
Stu’s expression was solemn. “I’d feel a lot better about doing this if you wouldn’t insult me so much. I mean…I know I’m lucky to even be in the same room with you and I shouldn’t complain, but I’m only human and that shit hurts my feelings.”
Dez kicked off one of her shoes and slid a foot between Stu’s legs, wedging the sole against his crotch, which abruptly began swelling again. “Does that help with your hurt feelings?”
Stu’s only answer was a groan.
She pressed her foot harder against him, eliciting the sound again.
Then she pulled it away. “Do the goddamn cocaine, Stu.”
Stu plucked the straw from her fingers, slotted it in one of his nostrils, bent toward the table and snorted up a line in a single, long inhalation.
Dez was surprised. “Wow, you did that like a pro.”
Stu shrugged. “I said I didn’t want to do it, not that I’d never done it before.”
“Good for you, fatso. Do some more while I open up some champagne.”
Stu frowned. “Don’t you have any beer?”
“We’re drinking champagne.”
“Okay.”
Dez kicked off her other shoe and stood up to pad across the linoleum floor on her bare feet. Before she could get to the refrigerator, she caught sight of something that made her heart flutter. A sealed white envelope had been placed at the end of the counter. Her name was written on it in a familiar script.
Stu glanced her way as he prepared to snort yet another line of coke. “You okay, Dez? Is something wrong?”
Dez didn’t answer.
She picked up the envelope in her trembling fingers. It was lightweight, but the ball of her thumb pressed against something solid inside it. Tears welled in her eyes as she realized it could only be one thing. She tore the envelope open and removed a single piece of folded copy paper. The extra key to her apartment—Shandi’s key—slid out of the piece of paper and landed on the counter with a little
plink
. Tears spilled down her cheeks as she unfolded the piece of paper and read the brief handwritten note scrawled on it:
Dez,
I’m sorry, but we’re done. Here’s your key.
Our time together has been an interesting experience, but it was just a phase for me. I’ve met a guy who makes me happy. He asked me to marry him and I said yes. I hope you can be happy for me.
Goodbye,
Shandi
The tears continued to flow as Dez read the note through several times. She heard a chair scoot away from the table as she began sobbing. A moment later, Stu’s hand was on her shoulder. The touch was tentative. She could feel his nervousness. It was a sincere attempt to comfort her. She felt that too.
But it didn’t matter.
Because suddenly all she could think about was how a
man
had taken away the woman she loved. It was a powerful reinforcement of a lesson she had learned long ago. This was what men did. They caused pain. They ruined things. Men were the ultimate root cause of all things bad in the world. These feelings were nothing new, of course, but now her bitterness was turning into true rage for the first time in a while. The most fucked part of it all was it had taken something like this to break through her barrier of denial and admit to herself that she was truly in love with Shandi.
Stu squeezed her shoulder. “Anya? Is there something I—”
Dez screamed.
There was an empty champagne bottle within reach on the counter, a leftover from the previous evening. She grabbed the bottle by the neck, wheeled around and smashed it across his face. The bottle made a loud thump but did not shatter as it struck his skull. He toppled backward and landed on the floor with a heavy thud. Dez fell atop him, straddling him before he could raise his hands in defense. She grasped the bottle’s neck in both hands and raised it high over her head. Then she slammed it down with all her might.
This time it shattered on impact.
Stu was unconscious for a while after that. Dez had a pair of police issue handcuffs. She also had a 9mm handgun. She used both these things to make Stu easier to handle once he finally regained consciousness.
The rest of that day—the brutal torture of Stu and her subsequent flight from Dallas—unfolded in roughly the same way Dez had described it to Echo.
3
Echo wasn’t sure what to make of this situation with Dez. She had an effortless way of captivating your attention that made you accept every word she said as true, at least at first blush. The story of her brutal rape at the hands of the man stashed in her trunk filled Echo with empathetic rage. She’d felt a strong desire to punish the man as symbolic retribution against all men for the ways they had wronged women over the ages.
But now that she was away from Dez and removed from the powerful influence of her “Dezsexuality”, some small doubts were beginning to creep in. The main thing was she couldn’t understand why Dez had kept him alive for so long, transporting him all the way from the heart of Texas to middle Tennessee. The risk of her live cargo being discovered by law enforcement at some point along the way had been enormous. Only sheer luck could account for that not happening.
She glanced at her rearview mirror and saw the headlights of the big black Impala. Dez was hanging very close, obviously out of fear of losing her in the early evening traffic. She continued to stay close as they hit the interstate and traveled the thirty-odd miles to nearby Rutherford County, which was where the empty house formerly owned by her late parents sat on a remote rural lot. The nearest neighbor was a mile away. The house belonged to Echo now. She rented it out as a way of earning a modest second income, but the last renter had moved out more than a month ago and she hadn’t gotten around to advertising the vacancy.