Reggie and Floyd are in the hot tub, oblivious, and my scope is good enough to see that they’re sipping Jaume Serra Cristalino Brut Cava. She whines and pouts. I read her lips. She’s pissed off that Rachel got upset and my dad kicked her out. “How am I going to be a star at this rate?”
There’s always porn.
Floyd puts his arm around her and kisses her temple. “I know, baby, but I’ll take care of you no matter what.”
For sex. I don’t need to be able to read minds to know that’s what he’s thinking.
“Thanks, love. In spite of all the crap, it was so satisfying to see that bitch’s cake land on her.” She tilts her head back in a raucous laugh.
My earlier rage returns, tightening my skin.What’s gonna be satisfying is seeing you shit your pants. I drag a black balaclava over my head, bend back down to the sight and pull the trigger on my cheetah.
Bullets puncture the hot tub without hitting the trashy couple. Water begins to spew out through the holes. Reggie and Floyd look around, their wide eyes wild. The silencer muted the sound, but they know what just happened.
There is the usual moment of paralysis. Then Floyd flings a hairy arm like a panicked one-winged chicken, his elbow knocking the bottle of the bubbly over. The laser sight on my rifle puts a red dot on Floyd’s chest, causing Reggie to scream, and he slides under the water, like the rapidly plummeting water surface will stop the next bullet. Reggie continues to screech, but nobody’s going to hear her. The only occupied house in the area is full of drunken teenagers, partying to music loud enough to permanently damage your hearing.
I fire more shots. She scrambles out of the tub. Floyd finally seems to realize that water isn’t Kevlar and heaves himself over the edge to land in a heap on his wooden deck. I rise from my position and walk toward them, rifle by my side.
“Oh my God, don’t kill me!” Reggie says. She’s scrambled off the deck and into the yard; now she puts her hands high above her head. “I’ll do anything!” She rips her bikini top down, displaying her tits.
Agh, my eyes!Why do women like her think guys want to see them topless? Or that showing their tits will make a difference?
I pull out a pistol from the back of my waistband with my left hand. My ambidexterity is something not even my brothers know about, but I can shoot more accurately with my left hand.
Floyd tries to get up but stumbles. Tears drip from his eyes. “Please. Don’t kill me. I’m too young.”
“My name is Reggie Hopkins. Short for Regina. I’m only twenty-nine.”
“Why the fuck do you think I care?” My voice is distorted from the little chip on my neck. The government spends a lot of money on things like that, calling them “toilet seats for the Pentagon.”
“Doesn’t knowing my name humanize me?”
She’s watched too many movies. “Naming a rat doesn’t make it a human.”
“What?” The blood drains from her face, making her appear ghostly.
“You’re lucky I’m not that good with knives. Otherwise, I’d skin you both.” Mom did that once. The other guy deserved it.
Reggie and Floyd scream, their eyes so wide with terror the white shows around their irises. Then they sob. From the smell, one of them definitely peed. Or maybe they both did.
Still not enough.
I raise the pistol and fire twice.
Chapter Thirty-One
Bobbi
Sometime in the night, the mattress dips. I stir as Noah slips in and puts his arm around me.
“Hey, you’re back. What time is it?”
“Like midnight?” He kisses me. “Sorry I woke you up.”
“I wasn’t really sleeping. Sort of dozing. It took you a while,” I say, turning and burying my nose in his chest and inhaling the fresh shampoo and body wash. His skin is a little damp from a recent shower.
“A fender bender. And it rained a little, too.”
I sigh. I can only imagine what the traffic must’ve been like with rain. One drop of water from the sky and all of L.A. turns into a parking lot.
