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 gunmen,
It’s just a rat…
openings, more scratching. And
long enough into an
Who said that?
Nietzsche?
Depressing bastard…
my case, the abyss comes equipped with teeth and whiskers. I come equipped with fists and feet. Between
*****
do you know
her eyes. She takes something from her lunchbox, unwrapping one
in a kidnap or hostage situation, the prisoner forms an attachment to
“You saying you're getting attached to
She pretending mockery, but I have her attention. “… But there's a reverse condition. It's called
“So?”
I your
flake of chocolate cracks off the small round cake, dropping back into the napkin and she dabs it
why do you keep
mouth hanging
you keep coming? If all you wanted was to watch me rot, you have your camera there.” I jerk my chin up to the
you. I assume you do want me to feed you? We can always change
were the only reason, you could leave me a bag of potatoes and come once a week. Or even, once a month.
continue. “Am I your only friend, Sola? Is that it? You've
her head, giggling. “So, you're
when she was a kid? That middle-aged hooker? You've not changed, Larry. I can see right through you. The
arms, sits back in her seat, arches her brows. “I am making
keep my voice mild. “Did I say otherwise? I'm not claiming to have changed. Who ever really changes?” I raise my gaze again, look into her
“Solana…” she hisses.
no more. Instead, she stands, the lunchbox tumbling from her lap. The contents spill and scatter over the rancid concrete, some of it dropping just this side of that painted line, now less than white. Even under the heavy make-up, her
on her heel, she stalks
snatch up the discarded meal from the filthy concrete,
of the camera. It hardly matters. My attention is on the
is almost untouched, only a single bite taken from the corner.
anything like this for…
For how long?
Weeks? Months? My sense of
had
another, I ram the food
way and suddenly I’m no longer
barf it up, where it plops
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