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All it took was a pistol he bought on the street, and a tip off from his reluctant neighbor, Benji, to make it all happen. James busted through the door and went into the bedroom, where his wife, Suzanne, was making it with some guy.
“What the Hell?” Suzanne yelled, “You’re supposed to be at work!”
James blew the guy away, making him fly off Suzanne, and over the side of the bed, onto the floor, brains half exposed.
I knew it would come to this, she thought – her last thought – and then it was all over with her. James fired two shots at her; one in the chest, the other in the head.
It was all over. No police would be coming around anytime soon. A couple of gunshots in that part of town was nothing. James, still holding the pistol out in front of him, heaved, almost vomiting on the floor. But nothing came up. He wiped his lips anyway and looked at the two he just murdered. So sad, just slumped, wherever they were, silent. From ecstasy to death within a moment.
The whole apartment was decorated with things that belonged to them: pictures, figurines, every memento you can imagine. They were no longer his, or anyone’s. They were just dead items, waiting to be pawned off someplace by the police, or whoever. Because he would never be back there again.
James locked up, then went to the next apartment and knocked.
There was no answer.
James knocked again.
Then came Benji’s voice: “I want nothing to do with it.”
“Come on. Let me in.”
“No. You should get out of here.”
James knocked again, but no answer.
He stumbled down the stairs and out into the sidewalk, stuffing the pistol into his pants and covering it with his shirt. James walked about three blocks, until he stopped by a cinderblock wall and slid down it, sobbing.
“This is no way to be,” he said to himself, and got up. He ambled down the street, headed nowhere.
Nothing would be the same again. No hello kisses from his wife. No hot meal waiting for him. No television tuned in to their favorite show. Nothing. But it was all for nothing anyhow. Seeing that guy in top of her, pumping away, made him sick, even sicker than the feeling of killing someone. Two people.
Sometime later, he heard sirens in the distance. Probably responding to the shooting. It was a warm night, and plenty of things could be going on. Well, he didn’t care much if the sirens were about the shooting, or something else. There was nothing to care about anymore.
For a time, at least, he had absolute freedom. He pulled a bunch of money out of the bank, as much as he could, and he had that tucked away. A few thousand, give or take. For the purchasing of the gun and whatever aftermath would come. And now was the aftermath. A lonely, quiet street, where people were sleeping in the warmth of the evening.
James went down a few streets, then turned onto a main one. There were some women standing against a wall and he passed by them. None of the women said anything to him, except one. They all thought he was some low life scum, but one of them sought him out to be of particular interest.
“Need some company?” she said, whipping her blond hair around and stepping out from the shadows. She had a nice body, but she was poorly and provocatively dressed. Nobody could mistake her for anything but a prostitute.
“Maybe.”
“How about we go someplace private.”
“I don’t have a car. At least right now.”
“That’s okay. I know a place. There’s an alleyÉ”
“No. How about that place over there?”
“The hotel? You got money for that?”
“I have plenty of money.”
“Okay.”
They ran across the street and went into the place. There was an old man behind thick glass with a hole to talk through.
“How much?” James asked.
“Twenty dollars an hour,” the crusty old man said, trying to watch a sitcom on a tiny television set.
“Okay. Here’s for the whole night.”
James pulled out some cash and handed through the talk hole. The old man took a key off the wall and passed it back through the hole.
“Don’t fuck up the place.”
The two, James and the prostitute went up several flights of stairs and came to the room. It opened and they went inside. James locked the deadbolt. Chained the door. The prostitute sat on the bed. James turned on the light.
There was silence for a moment, until the prostitute became uncomfortable with James just leaning against the wall the way he was.
“Wha-what’s your name?”
“James. What’s yours?”
“Jamie.”
“Is that your real name?”
“No.”
“What’s your real name?”
“Why should I tell you?”
James sat on the bed beside her. “I don’t know. I have a gun, but don’t worry,” he said, taking it out of his waistband, “I’m not gonna use it again tonight, I don’t think...” He set it on the nightstand.
“My real name is Rebecca.”
“That’s a beautiful name.”
“Thanks. You in some kind of trouble?”
“Does it matter?”
“Did you justÉkill somebody?” she asked, not really wanting to know. But there was something about him. She knew he wasn’t going to hurt her.
“Two people.”
“Oh.” They sat for a while, then she said: “Well, who?”
“My wife and her lover.”
“Oh.” And it seemed that she couldn’t find anything more to say than just “oh oh oh”. “Well, it seems that you’ll be a wanted man in a few hours.”
“Try a few minutes. Maybe.”
Rebecca reached out and touched James’ arm.
“I’m sorry it all happened.”
“This has nothing to do with you.”
“Well, the way I see it, it has a lot to do with me because right after the fact, you came falling into my arms.”
“You’re a strange prostitute.” James flipped out his wallet and paid her for the whole night. “You didn’t even ask for the money yet.”
Rebecca tucked the money away in her purse. “I guess I’m new to this whole thingÉ”
“I’d say you are.”
“Well, I could go proÉyou wanna fuck me, or what?” Rebecca leaned back and pulled her top down, exposing her breasts. James didn’t even look at them.
“Or what.”
“You might as well. You’ll probably going to be away for a while.”
“Not if I can help it.” James looked at the pistol on the nightstand. Then he put his head in his hands. “Why don’t you just take the money and get out of here?”
“If you’re not up for my pussy, then maybe I could suck your cockÉ?”
“Stop that! Stop talking like a whore!” James said into his hands.
“Okay.”
They both sat there, not knowing what to do next. Rebecca thought about leaving, but James looked so sad, and he had paid her for the whole night, room and all.
James brought his head up from his hands. “Just take the money and leave.”
Rebecca thought about that for a second and then said: “No. I’ll say with you tonight. You already paid enough. More than enough.”
To look at her in the light, James found she was not dried up and wringed out of all her youth. Her breasts were plump and her face didn’t have a sag on it.
“You’re quite pretty.” He stared at her, a blond halo of hair surrounding her thrown back head.
“Thank you. You’re not bad yourself.” She sat up. “You wanna tell me what happened?”
“Not really.”
“But you can. I won’t tell. Promise,” she said, kissing her hand, then touching each of her nipples.
After a long while, James began to talk, “I have this neighbor. He told me on the sly that he had heardÉsex noises from my place. When I wasn’t there. So, I told him to phone me next time he heard them. And he did. And there I was, plugging two people with that pistol over there.”
“That simple, huh?”
“It’s never that simple.”
“Why don’t you come lay down with me.”
“Take off those clothes first.” Rebecca took off her clothes and laid there naked. “Now get in and pull the sheet up over your breasts.” She did so and James curled up next to her. “This is the most warmth I’ve received in years.”
“What do you mean?”
“Never mind.” James just curled up next to her.
The next thing she knows, Rebecca is being thrown out of bed.
“Get the fuck up, you cheating bitch!” James yelled, holding the pistol out in the darkness. He turned on the light. Rebecca, dazed, tried to stand in her sleepiness.
“What’s wrong? What’s going on?”
“You’re a cheating slut! That’s what’s going on!”
“I’m not your wife, you fool!”
“What? What?” James was confused. “But you were just there, with that fucking guy. And he was fucking you! Slut! Whore!”
Rebecca started to grab for her clothes, but James aimed carefully.
“Don’t. Please.”
“I don’t need another one of you! I don’t! I don’t deserve it!”
Rebecca grabbed for her purse.
“Please, James. Don’t do it. Please. I have nothing to do with this!”
“You said it! You said you had everything to do with it! That I fell into your arms. You said that!”
“That was just talk, James. Talk!
James put the pistol into his mouth and fired a shot that sprayed brain and blood all over the wall. Rebecca screamed and cowered for a minute. Then she crept over to the corpse that was James. She pulled the wallet out of his coat pocket and pulled all the money out, then dressed and hurried back out onto the streets.
