Introducing Dickweed
Hazel
Wright peers out the windshield, eyeing the pale green front door of the worn-out house. “I hate to be the voice of reason, but this is a shitty idea, Hazel.”
“Hey, you go out fighting crime at night and getting stuck on fire escapes, you don’t get to question the sanity of my ideas,” I argue, even as my stomach cramps and hives break out on my skin.
Livi taps the back of the driver’s seat and waits for me to turn around before signing, “Do I get to?”
“You help her so, no, you do not.”
Wright grumbles that it was only one fire escape and flicks open her knife. “Fine. What’s the plan exactly and does it involve me finally getting to cut off dickweed’s dick?”
“Would he just be weed then?” Livi signs.
“Both of you stop it. And no, it doesn’t.” Their inane chatter calms my nerves a little, but I’m on edge and know if I don’t do this soon I won’t do it at all.
“Hazel,” Wright argues.
“You agreed to wait in the car,” I remind her, tearing my gaze away from the house to pin Wright with a stare that is at least somewhat stern. As much as I might want her to come with me, I know Tommy’s more likely to talk to me if I’m alone.
Wright twists her lips. She doesn’t like this and worry for me squirms in her eyes.
It takes me right back to the day she found the bruises on my wrist and I finally told her how bad things had gotten with Tommy.
I kept telling myself it wasn’t abuse because he never hit me, but I didn’t realize how shredded my nervous system was from always bracing for his anger.
It was Wright who sat with me on the floor of her dorm and told me abuse doesn’t always look like being beaten. It can be gripping your wrist so hard it leaves bruises. It can be throwing glass against the wall next to you. It can be forcing your jaw still when you try to turn away from a kiss.
My lips tingle, but for once I don’t think about Tommy taking my mouth, I think about Flynn. About how it would feel to have his lips on mine, to thread my fingers through his hair and draw him closer, tasting him because that’s what I want to do.
It doesn’t bode well that my relationship with my stalker is healthier than my one with Tommy. Flynn is nothing but protective and he would be furious if he knew I was here.
“Ugh,” I groan and lean against the headrest. Putting myself back into Tommy’s orbit is definitely a bad idea but hey, I slept with a serial killer last night so bad ideas are par for the course these days.
I put my hand on the door. “Just, wait here okay. I’ll go say hi, ask him about the society, and then we can leave.”
“And if he asks why you want to know about this society that’s supposed to be some big secret?”
I open the door. “I guess we’ll find out.”
“Hazel,” Wright calls after me but I’m already walking across the overgrown yard to the front of the house.
I don’t actually know whether Tommy will even be here. When he never answered my text, I got Detective Derek to look up his last known address but all that came up was his mom’s house.
I rap my knuckles against the flimsy door. A cascade of barks has me jumping and I take a step back.
The man who answers the door is barely recognizable, the boyish charm he used to have aging rapidly under the stained vest top and greasy hair. He shoves the vicious looking dogs back and turns to face me, a spliff hanging from his lips. Lines crease his skinny face. “Hazel?”
I brush my hands on my dress. “Um, hi.”
“What are you doing here?”
“Can we talk for a moment?”
One of the dogs jumps up, the rottweiler barking at me like I’m his next meal.
Tommy shoves him down again and steps outside, closing the door behind him.
“Come on.” He jerks his head and I follow him across the yard to a small trellis table by the back gate.
He taps his spliff against an empty can of Red Bull then leans against the fence beside me.
“Didn’t think I’d ever see you again,” he says, glassy eyes sweeping over my body.
I tug the skirt of my summer dress down, wishing I’d worn something a little less flattering. “That makes two of us.”
Tommy’s gaze snags on my hand at the hem of my dress. He smirks. “Still shy I see.”
I swallow down the urge to barf and try to think of a decent reason for turning up out of the blue.
“So, the thing is, I’ve been, uh, seeing a therapist lately and she got me thinking about why we broke up.
I think maybe part of it was that you were always so stressed trying to get into that fraternity thing. The Kings Society?”
And the improv award of the year goes to…
“Oh yeah?” Tommy puts out his spliff on the table, grinding the ash into the rusted metal.
“Yeah. So, uh, I was wondering, did you ever get in?”
He turns towards me, crowding me against the wooden fence. “Why do you want to know?”
I try to shrug but my jacket snags on the rough panels. “Just wondering.”
“No. I didn’t.” He jerks his chin at me. “No thanks to you.”
“What?”
Tommy runs his tongue over his teeth. “You ruined any chance I ever had of becoming a King.” He takes a step closer to me, the hazy glint in his eye a little too threatening.
I try to duck away, but he cuts me off, bracing his hand against the fence.
“Now where do you think you’re going?”
I rear back, his breath reeking of weed.
“Let me go, Tommy,” I hiss but he just laughs.
“No, I don’t think I will.” Tommy leers down at me and I realize how stupid it was to come out here alone. He hooks a finger under the collar of my dress and for one brief moment it occurs to me how pissed Flynn is going to be and then Tommy drops.
He crashes to the ground with a cry, his right knee buckling.
Behind him, Wright stands like an avenging angel, baton in hand. “She’s going wherever the hell she likes. Which hopefully, is far away from you, dickweed.”
Tommy tries to spin around but Wright locks her baton across his neck, keeping him on his knees. “Nuh uh, you’re going to stay right there and answer Hazel’s questions.”
Tommy spits at me. “Like fuck I will, stupid bitch.”
Wright clucks her tongue, grabbing hold of Tommy’s straggly blond hair. I take the baton on auto pilot when she hands it to me then watch with bugged eyes as she reaches into her back pocket for her knife. She just winks at me.
“Maybe I need to be a little clearer,” she says, yanking Tommy’s head back.
“You’re going to answer Hazel’s questions or…
” She trails the tip of the knife down his chest until it rests against his groin.
“I’m going to cut off your tiny little dick and whiz it up in my blender until it looks like a strawberry milkshake. ”
Tommy goes green and honestly, I don’t blame him.
So let me get this straight, Ms. Halloway, you’re not only dating a killer, you’re also best friends with a woman who threatens grievous bodily harm like she’s exchanging pleasantries. The FBI agent in my head raises a brow of disbelief.
“Jesus, fuck. Okay,” Tommy blubbers. “Just tell me what you want to know.”
I point the baton at him because honestly, I have no idea what to do with the thing. “Tell me about the Kings Society.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he mumbles.
I press the tip of the baton into his chest. “Don’t be an idiot, Tommy, you wouldn’t shut up about them in college. What’s so special about the society? Why did you want in so bad?”
Wright twists the knife against his groin, and a wet patch darkens his gray pants. My adrenaline is racing but having Tommy on his knees in front of me is a power kick I didn’t know I needed. It’s hard to be scared of a guy when he pisses his pants in front of you.
“Okay, okay, Jesus. It’s just connections. If you become a King, then you’re sorted for life. Money, power, women, whatever the fuck you want they’ll get it for you.”
“How do you get in?”
Tommy’s gaze drops to the knife, the Adam’s apple on his skinny throat bobbing as he swallows. “You have to make a sacrifice.”
Wright looks over at me, the unease in her face matching the creeping feeling crawling up my spine. “What sort of sacrifice, Tommy-boy?” Wright asks.
“Just fucking let me go!” Tommy freaks, pushing the knife away and trying to stand but Wright hooks her arm around his neck and holds him tight. His face bulges.
“Any more questions?” Wright asks me.
My gaze darts up and down the street. We shouldn’t be doing this out here in the open and I could really do with no longer smelling Tommy’s piss, but I do have one more question.
If Flynn is targeting members of this society, then Tommy might be my best shot at figuring out which senator the message Flynn got was referring to.
I get up the list of male state senators I found earlier on my phone and show their photos to Tommy. “Were any of these men in the society?”
Wright pinches Tommy’s cheeks, holding his face steady as I scroll through the images. When I get to Senator Claren recognition flares in Tommy’s eyes.
“Him?” I ask.
Tommy spits at my screen.
I grimace, pinching my phone between two fingers as I wipe my hand on my pants. “I’m going to take that as a yes.” I catch Wright’s gaze. “You can stop uh, being all vigilante now.”
She pouts at me but lets Tommy go.
He scrambles away from Wright, pressing his back against the fence and screaming after us. “Fucking crazy bitch!”
Wright just smiles and wiggles her fingers at him.
“Yeah, because that makes you look totally sane,” I mutter as we reach the car.
Wright shrugs and flicks her knife closed. “Sanity is overrated.”
We get in the car and I let out a breath, my whole body trembling now that it’s over.
Olivia looks up from her laptop. She puts it to one side and signs “Did Wright go psycho on him?”
I laugh a little. “Well, he pissed himself.”
Livi grimaces.
“We got what we needed though.” I force in a few more calming breaths then grab a tissue to wipe my phone clean.
Senator Claren smiles up at me. He looks like your classic family man with neatly trimmed hair and pearly white teeth, but goosebumps prick my arms. If my instincts are right, then I’m looking at Flynn’s next victim.