“Amazing how you’re not so tough now. How all of a sudden you want to strike up a deal.” I shake my head in disgust. “Yourbuying people offdays are over.”
“All your days are over, fucker.” Python pulls his gun out of the waist of his jeans.
The loose sand and shale shift under Graham’s feet. “Money, villas, yachts on the Mediterranean,” his words fall over each other, “I’ll give you any of it. All of it, just let me go.”
Mamba and Python exchange a look. “Now, what the fuck would we do with a yacht in the Mediterranean?” Mamba jerks his thumb at Python. “Don’t you know this fucker gets seasick?”
“Funny how a week ago you called all of us a bunch of dumb fucks.” I move closer to Graham. “What did you call us . . . uneducated morons? Yeah, I heard it all, but I guess we’re not so stupid after all.”
Graham zeroes in on me. “How did you . . . where did you hear me?”
“Bragging to all your stick-up-the-ass friends at a party at your mansion.”
“But you weren’t there. That party was in my Beverly Hills home, so how did you?—”
All eyes turn to me, and I laugh it off. “Guess you could say I saw it in a dream.” I move in front of Graham. “You got a lot of people here who want to see you dead ‘cause you’ve done a lot of shitty things in the name of your business. From what I understand, you’ve been pulling shit like this for a while. Your service isn’t promotion; it’s blackmail and extortion, but you fucked with the wrong people this time.”
“You don’t understand,” Graham whines. “Sometimes I had to?—”
“Had to threaten defenseless women. If you think I’d let what you did to Cheryl slide, then you’re fuckin’ crazy.” I throw Graham an evil smile. “Your biggest mistake was that you underestimated us, but that’s what happens when you’re out of your league.”
“I’ll renegotiate the deal on Wicked. Let you stay rent-free, give you my promotion service for free. Plus, I’ll throw in Cheryl’s business for free just to show you I meant no harm. Anything, just please don’t do this.”
He grabs on to my arm, and I shake him off.
“Shit, let’s get this done,” Python grumbles. “I got some double chocolate brownies waiting for me.”
“You don’t want to listen to reason, fine. All those women you think I wronged were nothing but a bunch of whores, including your precious Cheryl. If I had more time with her, I would’ve had her on her back too,” Graham screams, spittle flying from his deranged mouth. “The only way women know how to do business is with their legs open.”
“There’s the sick fuck who’s been hiding behind his father’s money.” My blood surges through my veins. “Your days of getting away with shit ‘cause of privilege are over, fucker.”
“I just changed my mind.” I turn to Python and hold out my hand. “Yeah, this is gonna be sweet.”
Python flips the gun in his hand and holds it out to me.
Mamba steps aside, and Python loosens his grip on Graham’s arm. I lower my gaze to the gun, then heft it in my hand. A split second later, Graham lunges forward. He grabs Python’s knife out of its sheath, and the thick silver blade slices through the air, shimmering under the sun.
A second later, a burning heat radiates through my gut. I pitch forward, and the gun slips from my hand. Graham stumbles against the dry, crumbling ground, desperately trying to regain his footing.
Mamba grabs my shoulder. “Fuck, man, what happened?”
I double into myself, dropping to my knees, but the searing pain won’t stop.
In slow motion, Python grabs up his gun, pivots, then sweeps Graham’s legs from under him. Graham flounders, groping at the air seconds before he falls backwards into the shallow hole. Python empties a round into Graham’s prone body, and my eyes water as the sharp scent of gunpowder fills the dry air.
I shuffle over the dusty soil, but my legs won’t cooperate. I grip my gut harder, and all the air leaves my lungs. “Fuck!” I mumble.
My head pounds as the scrubby grass and even the shack spins out of control. I blink a few times, and a vision of Cheryl and Portia appear before me. Her tiny face is all scrunched up like she’s trying not to cry.
“Shit!” I yell out with what little strength I have left.
My hands are covered in my blood, too much blood, way too much blood. The ground shifts and meets me halfway.
Frank’s face hovers over me, yelling words I can’t make out. Voices echo around me, and I force myself to focus, butit all swims in front of me. Colors mesh together; sounds are distorted. Everything’s moving way too fast, like being sucked into a whirlpool.
Python and Mamba hoist me up, and an electric bolt of pain charges through my limp body. My head lolls to the side, and my eyes slide shut. Doors slam, more yelling, then pressure against the middle of my body.
“Fuck!” I scream out. My eyes spring open as Mamba presses a gauze pad to my stomach. The pain consumes me, and blessedly, my eyes close again.
