Hot Revenge Box Set 4

Chapter 52

Klempner

What's the obsession with potatoes?

I called her Potato Face when she was a kid.

What does she look like now?

Jenny was no looker at that age…

… But she matured. Bloomed.

Juliana... Never the same twice.

I scratch at my beard. I’ve never liked facial hair in hot climates, but I don’t have a choice right now. Even so, the flourishing colony of lice that has stowed aboard adds an extra edge of irritation.

Lice…

Where the fuck did they come from?

Can rat lice live on humans?

Having a fucking good go at it…

I catch one, squeezing the revolting thing between my fingernails. It bursts with a Pop!

Only another 999 to go…

*****

The boredom’s the worst. Endless hours. Endless days and nights. I’ve no idea how long.

The only breaks in the monotony are Juliana’s visits: just long enough to sit, eat something at me, toss a potato at me.

No, not Juliana: Solana.

Why's she so obsessed with the name?

How many names have I used over the years? Worn like a suit of clothes to be discarded when the weather changes and something different is needed.

I’ve never been defined by my name.

But she sees it differently…

Something skritches and I jerk a look sidelong

It’s a rat…

Just a rat…

faced down

It’s just a rat…

openings, more scratching. And

say if you gaze long enough into an abyss, the abyss

Who said that?

Nietzsche?

Depressing bastard…

teeth and whiskers. I come equipped with fists and feet. Between us,

*****

know what

takes something from her lunchbox, unwrapping one of her usual dainties from a napkin. “What is

a psychological condition where, in a kidnap or hostage

“You saying you're getting

“… But

“So?”

your only friend,

napkin produces a brigadeiro. A flake of chocolate cracks off the small round cake, dropping back

you

pauses in her chewing, mouth hanging

watch me rot, you have your camera there.”

you. I assume you do want me to feed you? We can always change that

of potatoes and come once a week. Or even, once a month. But, so far as I can reckon, you're here every

regarding me. I continue. “Am I your only friend, Sola? Is that it? You've

giggling. “So, you're my

there who thinks you're worth it? The daughter you had slated as a sex-slave when she was a kid? That middle-aged hooker? You've not changed, Larry. I can see right through you. The same heartless bastard that shipped me out

back in her seat, arches her

my voice mild. “Did I say otherwise? I'm not claiming to have changed. Who ever really changes?”

“Solana…” she hisses.

over the rancid concrete, some of it dropping just this side of that painted line, now less than white. Even under the

her heel,

the discarded meal from the filthy concrete, scrabbling to grab broken fragments of

of the camera. It hardly matters. My attention

bite taken from the corner. And

eaten anything like this for…

For how long?

My sense

I had a

mouthful of empanada, then another, I

wrong way and suddenly I’m no longer eating,

barf it up, where

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