Bryan Smith - The Killing Kind

The man shook his head again. “No. She killed Clyde.” His mouth twisted in a scowl. “I know. I always listen to you, Lulu. But this cunt has to die.”

Lulu?

Julie almost laughed. This deranged, sick fuck was hearing voices. Voices telling him not to kill her.

Hooray for mental illness!

The man’s shoulders sagged. “All right. Yes. Okay.”

Julie summoned a smile. “It really is okay. You’ll see. I’ll-”

She didn’t get to finish the thought.

The man cocked a fist and slammed it into the side of her head, turning out the lights for a while.

March 22

Chuck needed some time away from Zoe. She was giving off a weird, standoffish vibe. That coldness was nothing new. It’d been going on for months, but had become worse recently. She didn’t always refuse his advances, but getting her to shed her clothes took a lot more work than it once had. And it was getting to be pretty goddamn frustrating. It didn’t take a genius to see where things were going. They were almost over. It bummed him out. They had been together a long time. It wasn’t the end of the world, he guessed. He was young and good-looking. There would be other girls. Hotter girls, even. The idea of exploring all that fresh meat once he and Zoe were finally, really through had its appeal.

Still.

Here they were. Probably on their last vacation together. They should be having one last good fling, along with a lot of wild vacation sex. He couldn’t help thinking of Christmas break at his parents’ house. Zoe had been insatiable that week. The frequency. All those different positions. The crazy experimenting. Hard to believe that was only a few short months back. Now he was lucky if she let him fuck her once a week. He’d probably been stupid to hope she would knock off the frigid routine for vacation.

He knocked on the bathroom door. “Hey, babe. I need some fresh air. I’ll be back in a bit.”

A muffled voice answered from the other side. “All right.”

The monotone reply made him linger at the door a moment longer before departing. He wondered how she would have sounded if he’d said, “Hey, babe, I’m going outside to step in front of a bus.”

Would he hear that same dead voice say “all right” to that as well?

He thought he would.

Fuck.

This was crazy. The situation was starting to get to him. He felt like he was on the verge of a genuine depressive episode, which was way unlike him. His eyes misted a bit. He knew he had to get out of there before he had some kind of embarrassing breakdown. He left the motel room without another word, barely resisting the impulse to slam the door on the way out.

Damn her, anyway.

He wanted to be all macho about this. All blustery and don’t-give-a-shit, the way he was with everything else. But that was turning out to be harder than he’d imagined.

His thoughts turned back to earlier in the day and that incident with the goth chick. He’d given her a hard time for no good reason. Oh, he sort of half-believed the bullshit explanation he’d spewed earlier, but the real truth was more pathetic. The girl was just a victim of his frustrations. He was upset about the way things were going with Zoe and so he’d vented some of his anger on a stranger. The girl had just been unlucky enough to line up in his sights at exactly the wrong time. Thinking about it now, he felt bad.

Sorry, whoever you were.

He lit a cigarette and leaned against the second-floor-balcony railing. The rental van was parked directly below. A neon vacancy light blinked and fizzed at the other end of the motel’s half-full parking lot. The original plan had been to make the trip to Myrtle Beach in one long day of driving. But there’d been too much fucking around and drinking going on for that to happen. The numerous lengthy pit stops to drain overinflated bladders hadn’t helped matters. Chuck was a little bummed about not being able to wake up in Myrtle Beach the next morning, but in truth he was grateful for the opportunity to get off the road. He was looking forward to a good night’s rest. Hell, who knew? Maybe a fresh sunrise would wash away all the bad feelings of the day and allow for a fresh start. Probably not, but a guy could hope.

He stubbed the cigarette out and flicked the butt over the side. Just as he was turning away from the railing to go back inside, a door to his left opened and Emily Sinclair stepped outside. She saw him and smiled. That was a little odd. She didn’t spare a smile for him too often. Never, in fact. She left the door to her room partly open and joined him at the railing.

She tapped the cigarette pack in his hand with a glossy nail. “Give me one of those.”

Chuck laughed. “Well, as long as you’re asking nicely…”

He passed the pack to her. She tapped a cigarette out and placed it between her plump lips.

She stared at him.

Chuck laughed again and lit her cigarette. She turned her head slightly and blew a stream of smoke just past his face. She smiled again. “Thanks.”

“No problem.”

Chuck leaned against the railing again. No point going back inside now. Zoe was probably still in the bathroom, hiding away from him. And Emily was actually being sort of friendly toward him, an extremely rare thing. As long as she didn’t mind his company, he would stay out here.

Emily leaned over the railing and stared in the direction of the malfunctioning neon sign. “So…Chuck?”

He glanced at her. “Yeah?”

She exhaled more smoke and still didn’t look at him. “Wanna fuck me?”

Chuck’s jaw dropped open. He turned fully toward her and stared at her in astonished silence for several moments. If she’d suggested he join her in a conspiracy to assassinate the president, he would not have felt this flabbergasted. After a while, he managed a nervous laugh. “You’re fucking with me. Right?”

She smiled, but still didn’t look at him. “Nope.”

He frowned. “But…you’re Zoe’s best friend.”

“That’s right.”

His frown deepened. “What kind of friend comes on to her best friend’s boyfriend?”

Emily dropped the half-smoked cigarette and extinguished it with the tip of a high-heeled shoe. “The horny kind, Chuck.”

“This is crazy. What about Joe?”

Emily indicated the partly open door behind her with a jerk of her head. “Take a look in there. But be quiet about it.”

Still frowning, Chuck stepped past her and peered through the small opening. Joe was on the bed. He was naked. His wrists were tied to the brass headboard. He was blindfolded. A pair of red panties had been stuffed into his mouth as a gag. Loud snoring indicated unconsciousness, which wasn’t surprising given the amount of beer the guy had consumed. Chuck’s pulse ticked upward and his face reddened. Seeing his best friend like this was embarrassing as hell. He became aware of a presence behind him and gasped when Emily pressed herself against him and reached around to grab his crotch. The erection was immediate and painful. She squeezed it through his jeans and gave it a hard twist, eliciting another gasp.

Her breath was hot against his ear as she whispered, “Get your keys and meet me down at the van.”

Then she was gone. Chuck turned away from the door and stared after her retreating form. She cut an amazing figure in that tight black dress, with curves much more pronounced than Zoe’s. She started down the stairs to the first floor, disappearing from view within seconds.

Chuck stared at the empty space where she’d been a moment longer.

I shouldn’t do this. It’s not right.

But then he thought about Zoe and how cold she had become. It’d been more than a week now since they’d last had sex. Hell, wasn’t it possible they’d already fucked for the last time?