Three Twisted Stories Part 8

They had called him skinny.

Mr. Salmeri was standing behind the counter when Charlie walked in. "Mr. Lam."

Charlie nodded. He'd seen the squad car in the parking lot. Part of him had wanted to turn around. The other part had told himself that he was being silly. He couldn't run every time he saw a woman in uniform. Nothing had really happened between him and Jo, anyway. It wasn't like she'd raped Charlie. She'd shoved her b.r.e.a.s.t.s in his face. She'd touched him in places he didn't want her to touch him.

So what?

Looking back, he'd probably started the whole thing anyway. Charlie had been drinking. He was worked up because of the fight with his girlfriend. And being completely honest, he'd found Jo attractive in a dirty kind of way. He'd gotten a little excited thinking about her kissing her friend. It had felt a bit dangerous when she'd commented on the way his suit hugged his shoulders. Obviously, Jo had picked up on his attraction. Charlie couldn't blame her for a.s.suming he wanted more.

Still, he was relieved when the toilet flushed and the cop who came out wasn't Jo, but the woman from the other day. The pretty one who would look prettier if she wore something other than a man's uniform.

"Thank you, Mr. Salmeri." She saw Charlie and stopped fiddling with her belt. "Mr. Lam."

He read her name tag. "Officer Lawson."

She stared at him. Charlie got the message. He ran over and opened the door for her. She took her time. Charlie pretended he didn't remember what had happened the last time he'd stood at this door. The glint of the blade arcing through the air. The smell of blood.

This is how you end it.

"Nice gal," Charlie told Salmeri. He wasn't going to make the same mistake twice. "I heard you had a suit for me?"

Salmeri finished filling in the boxes on his crossword puzzle. He walked over to the racks and pressed the b.u.t.ton that spun the clothes around. "You're looking good, Charlie."

Charlie pressed his hand to his stomach. He'd skipped breakfast this morning. It was idiotic to think he'd lost weight, but maybe. "Are you going to the game tomorrow night?"

Salmeri tossed him a glance over his shoulder. "No. You?"

Charlie didn't know why he felt compelled to make small talk. "I'll probably watch it on TV."

"Paper says it's gonna be on the national channel."

"I heard." Charlie looked down at his fingernails. They were finally clean. He couldn't believe a few days ago he'd stood here waiting for a suit, not knowing that there was a crazy man out there waiting to stab him.

"You wanna go with me?" Salmeri was looking at him. "To the game?"

Charlie felt his cheeks turn red, but he had no idea why. "I was ... I mean, my wife was ... I mean, you know I'm married, right?"

Salmeri shrugged as he walked toward Charlie. "Doesn't have to be a problem if you don't want it to."

Charlie put his hand on the door, easy, like he was just resting it there.

"You know, Charlie, I could give you a lot more money than you're making with Thevis."

Charlie laughed. He pressed against the door. It was locked. He twisted the thumb latch. Nothing happened.

"b.u.t.ton under the counter," Salmeri explained. He was standing close enough so that Charlie could smell his aftershave. He was taller than Charlie thought. When he stepped forward, his chest hair tickled Charlie's chin. He whispered in Charlie's ear, "You ever give a b.l.o.w. .j.o.b?"

Charlie felt his throat start to close.

"Pretty thing like you." Salmeri stroked the hair behind Charlie's ear.

"Please," Charlie said. "Please don't do this."

"Do what, darlin'?" Salmeri wrapped his arm around Charlie's waist. He pulled him closer. Charlie could feel the man's stiff c.o.c.k rub against him. "You got such a nice mouth. All I been thinking about since you walked through that door is how good it'd feel to cup your head in my hands and watch you suck me."

"No," Charlie whispered. This wasn't right. This couldn't be happening.

"Come on, sweetheart. You've been coming in here for months. I've seen the way you look at me."

"No," Charlie repeated. "I didn't mean to-"

Salmeri pressed his mouth against Charlie's. He tasted like Dentyne and gin. Charlie gripped Salmeri's arms, trying to push him away. The guy was solid muscle. Charlie couldn't move. He was trapped against the door. The gla.s.s was almost bowing from the pressure.

"I can't," he said. "Mr. Salmeri, I'm begging you."

Salmeri grabbed Charlie's shoulders and pushed him down. The man was so strong. There was nothing Charlie could do but kneel on the floor. Salmeri gripped Charlie's jaw, forcing it to open.

Charlie was screaming in his head, but the sound couldn't leave his throat. He didn't want to do this. He couldn't do this.

"Don't cry, sweetheart." Salmeri's fingers pressed into his cheeks. Charlie's jaw was going to break if he didn't open his mouth. "Nice and easy," Salmeri said. "Relax your throat."

Charlie squeezed his eyes closed. He couldn't watch it happen. He couldn't be here. He had to end this.

This is how you end it.

Charlie shoved his hand into his jacket pocket. The knife was still there. He didn't let himself think about it. He pulled out the blade. He held it a few inches away from his belly, and then shoved it in as deep as it would go.

Chapter Nine.

Charlie opened his eyes. He gasped. Salmeri was still hovering over him. He raised his arms to fight him off. He couldn't do it. He wasn't strong enough.

"Mr. Lam," a man said. "Mr. Lam, you're all right."

Charlie stopped fighting. Slowly, he lowered his arms. Salmeri was gone. Charlie was in a hospital room, lying in a hospital bed. Deacon was on one side of him. Sammy Davis, Jr., was on the other.

"You're in Grady Hospital," Sammy Davis, Jr., said.

Charlie stared openly at the man. "You look like-"

"Yes, I know. Skinny black man in gla.s.ses. We all look alike." He popped a cigarette into his mouth and flicked his lighter. "Mr. Lam, do you know why you're in the hospital?"

Charlie heard the heart monitor over his head beeping like a warning bell. He didn't want Deacon to know he'd stabbed himself. His brother would never understand how terrified he'd been. All he would concentrate on was that Charlie had been on his knees ready to do whatever Salmeri told him to do.

Charlie asked the doctor, "Am I going to be all right?"

He blew smoke toward the wall. "Your renal artery was nicked. We managed to repair the damage in the operating theater. You subsequently developed an infection."

"An infection?"

"Your fever spiked. We were able to get it under control with alcohol rubs and antibiotics. I'm not going to lie. The last two nights have been touch-and-go."

"Two nights?" Charlie had been here two nights?

"And three days." The doctor tapped some ash into his hand. "Barring another fever, you should be ready to go home by the end of the week." He turned to leave. "I'll get the nurse to take out the catheter now that you're awake."

Charlie felt his eyes go wide. Catheter? He reached down and touched his p.e.n.i.s. It felt stiff and flaccid at the same time. He pulled at it-gently at first, then harder. "It didn't come off."

"Jesus," Deacon groaned. "Give it a break, Charlie. You want Judy to restrain you again?"

"Judy?"

"The day nurse. She already had to tie you down once so you didn't tug yourself raw."

Charlie tested his c.o.c.k again. The skin stretched, but it didn't unplug. He pulled a little harder and felt his b.a.l.l.s move. "It's connected."

"No s.h.i.+t." Deacon lit a cigarette. "Lookit, I don't want you to worry about that c.o.o.n who came after you. Salmeri took him out."

"What?"

"The guy who stabbed you. Salmeri blew him away with that shotgun he keeps under the counter. Blasted him right through the door. That's why you got gla.s.s all in your hair. Cut your chin pretty bad, too."

Charlie touched his face. There was a bandage covering his chin. The skin felt bruised underneath his fingers.

"They got no idea who that homeless f.u.c.ker was. Had a history of mental illness or something. Cops say they seen him around before, but n.o.body knows his name."

"Melvin Finkelmeyer."

"Finkelmeyer?" Deacon huffed out some smoke. "You mean the vegetable in the next room?"

Charlie tried to put the pieces together. Finkelmeyer was a patient next door to him. His doctor looked like Sammy Davis, Jr. The homeless guy who'd stabbed Charlie was dead by Salmeri's hands. Judy hadn't thrown him out of Davison's. She'd tied him down to keep him from touching himself.

Charlie asked, "Who's Mabel?"

"Mabel's the nurse who works the day s.h.i.+ft. Uptight t.w.a.t. No sense of humor. h.e.l.l, Charlie, they said you couldn't hear anything."

Hear anything.

Charlie strained his ears to listen past the beeping of the monitor in the room. " 'Ticket to Ride.' "

"Yeah, that's the vegetable next door. Been slipping in and out of a coma for years. Docs can't figure it out, but you ask me it's 'cause he's got six screaming brats always up here. His wife keeps playing Karen Carpenter over and over again. Say, have you seen her lately? She's gettin' kinda fat."

Charlie put his hand to his eyes. His head was pounding. "This is too much."

"I know it is, Charlie. You had us scared. That fever wasn't anything to screw around with. You were rollin' around, swearin' up a storm, trying to pull out the tubes. The doc said you woulda had permanent brain damage if they hadn't gotten your temperature down."

Charlie let his hands drop from his face. "I was stabbed."

"Right. By a homeless dude. Salmeri shot him before he could stab you again."

"I didn't stab myself."

"Why would you stab yourself? Jesus, Charlie, you're not a p.u.s.s.y."

Charlie laughed. It was some kind of fever dream. He was fine. None of that s.h.i.+t had actually happened. No, sir. If there was one thing Charlie Lam was not, it was a p.u.s.s.y.

Deacon narrowed his eyes. "What're you laughing about?"

Charlie wiped his face. He was weeping, he was so relieved. "Where's my family?"

"Sadie came by the first night."

Their baby sister. "What'd she steal?"

"Some cash outta your pants. I gave your wallet to Jenny to look after." He slapped his palm to his chest. "Hand to my heart, Charlie, I didn't take anything."

Charlie doubted that. This wouldn't be the first time they'd robbed him blind. "I meant where's my real family."

"Oh." Deacon tried to look hurt. "I been spelling them some at night, let 'em take a shower, grab some sleep. And thank Christ for that. I went for a walk the first night to stretch my legs, and I come back in here and what do I see? Carla in bed with you like she's taped to your side."

Carla. His girlfriend.

Deacon said, "What was that crazy b.i.t.c.h thinking? Sue or Jenny coulda walked in on her. How do you explain that?"

"What did you do?"

"I peeled her off you, told her to get the f.u.c.k out." He winked at Charlie. "Don't worry. I took care of her. Gave her a twenty to keep her meter running."

Charlie looked up at the ceiling. "I was stabbed. By somebody else."

"That's right. Stabbed in the back. You're lucky the guy didn't get your kidneys." He lifted a bag off the bed railing. It was filled with yellow fluid. "Just started running clear this afternoon. You were p.i.s.sing blood like a motherf.u.c.ker."

"p.i.s.sing blood," Charlie echoed. It was all making sense now. The memories were coming into focus. The fight with the homeless man. The struggle for the knife. Charlie fell to the ground.

But then he saw the truth of what happened.

Charlie tried to crawl away. He felt like a bolt of lightning shot into his back. He heard the explosion of Salmeri's shotgun. Saw the broken gla.s.s rain down like a sudden shower. And then the homeless man collapsed on top of him.

"Charlie," Salmeri had screamed. "Charlie, stay with me, buddy."

Charlie felt the world go wonky. His eyes rolled back in his head. Salmeri forced open his mouth. He pressed his lips to Charlie's.