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…
down
It’s just a rat…
more scratching.
long enough into an abyss, the abyss
Who said that?
Nietzsche?
Depressing bastard…
the abyss comes equipped with teeth and whiskers. I come equipped with fists
*****
you know what
Interest flickers over her eyes. She takes something from her lunchbox, unwrapping one of her usual dainties from a
the label for a psychological condition where, in a kidnap or hostage situation, the
saying you're getting attached
misread me...” Her head tilts. She pretending mockery, but I have her attention. “… But there's a reverse condition. It's
“So?”
I your only
her lips. “Friend? You think you’re my friend?” The napkin produces a brigadeiro. A flake of chocolate cracks off the small round cake, dropping back into the napkin and she
why do you keep coming
in her chewing, mouth hanging
If all you wanted was to watch me rot, you have your camera there.” I jerk my chin
me to
do. But if that were the only reason, you could leave me a bag of potatoes and come once a week. Or even, once a month.
I your only friend, Sola? Is that it?
her head, giggling. “So, you're my friend are
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
arms, sits back in her seat, arches her brows. “I am making you
otherwise? I'm not claiming to have changed. Who ever really changes?” I raise my gaze
“Solana…” she hisses.
rancid concrete, some of it dropping just this side
her heel, she stalks
discarded meal from the filthy concrete, scrabbling to grab broken fragments of meat in one hand, a cake with the other before, with
green blink of the camera. It hardly
almost untouched, only a single bite taken from the corner. And I have
eaten anything like this for…
For how long?
My sense of time is out of the
had
of empanada, then another, I ram the food into my
Too soon. Half-chewed pulp goes down the wrong way and suddenly
scavenged meal, I barf it up, where
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